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| October 2008 | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: May 1 2010, 05:17 PM (3,208 Views) | |
| golden_trillium | May 11 2010, 01:03 PM Post #196 |
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Author: Starbelle Date: Tue Oct 21, 2008 2:15 pm Tatiana and Jols
Jols, after hearing her reply laughed in return but was unable to turn down that type of a dare as it sounded just too good for him to resist. "You do, huh? I think that I'll just run that new title of yours by Tristan and see what his opinion is on it." He replied playfully teasing her, and then laughing heartly once more before deciding to hang around the two women and see what other little tidbits that they would discuss.
"No, not exactly. She really wanted me to follow in her path of becoming a Healer, like she and my Grandmother are. I just couldn't see myself doing that as I had other desires, dreams and wishes which were quite different than the ones that she had planned for me." Tatiana replied to her new friend. "I did pick up enough of the training to be able take care of colds and little things like that just nothing major." |
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| golden_trillium | May 11 2010, 01:05 PM Post #197 |
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Author: LadyCastus Date: Tue Oct 21, 2008 6:54 pm Neeria Despite that the fact the cell was freezing cold and Neeria lay her head against Arthur's armor, somehow the armor itself was warm. Leaning against Arthur like that, Neeria felt exhausted. She wanted to just close her eyes and sleep. The commander gently pushed her off of him and the woad felt a twinger of disappointment. She straightened a bit and sneezed, then wiped her nose with the dirty tunic again. Arthur held her steady as Neeria regained her composure and until the strength came back to her legs. When she was completely upright, she looked back up at the commander's face, shadows still dancing there, adding even more mystique to his strong features.
“That’s not true, Arthur. I have suffered a great deal. Mikel is dead and my people have turned their backs on me. I told Tristan that my fight is not with the Sarmatians. It is with Rome.” The commander's lips were drawn thin and his brows slightly knitted as he took all of her in. She could tell he was thinking about something as he regarded her. He seemed to weighing her words - trying to determine if she was telling the truth or not. Would he send her out with nothing? Leave her to fend on her own in her condition? As if reading her mind, Arthur finally spoke.
Neeria sniffed again and realized that Arthur still had a hand on her shoulder. Without a reason why, Neeria reached out and touched the breastplate that covered the commander's large, broad chest. She traced the rivets and curves in the armor with her finger, awed by it's thickness and smoothness. She ran her fingers across the golden crest and touched the chainmail on his sleeves. She'd never examined anything like it up close before. Then Neeria touched the hand that rested firmly on her shoulder and took it in hers. She looked up at Arthur, wide-eyed, but said nothing, hopefully assuring him with her eyes that she meant him no harm. The small woman looked at Arthur's big hand and turned it over, palm side up. Again she traced a line with her finger over the calouses and healed-over cuts. Then finally, she raised Arthur's hand and brushed her cheek with the backside of it. Letting it linger for a brief second on her burning skin. Neeria latched eyes with Arthur again. Her dark eyes searching his for the truth. "Merlin is headed back to our village," she said, swallowing hard.
Neeria anxiously looked around Arthur at Lancelot, Tristan and Neeve for a brief second, but kept talking. The two knights glared at her, each with a hand on the hilt of their swords. She knew that look in their eyes well. They wanted to kill her. "Tristan can lead you to the other camp - he will remember the way,” throwing daggers at the scout with her eyes. She would cross paths with him again. Of that she was sure. “Keep going north until you come to the river. The sun should be on this side," Neeria continued, pointing to her left side, "go past the mountain, through the forest, following the river. You must cross the river. Look for the bridge – there is a bridge where the tree open. After you cross the bridge, you will come to a valley just after that. That is our village. You should be there before midday if you ride hard. It is only 3 days’ walk. They will see you coming long before you cross the bridge." Neeria dropped her head as tears filled her eyes for what she'd just done. "Arthur," she said softly, looking back up at him who towered over her, with water-rimmed eyes, "please don't....please. Please don't kill them. I cannot return to them, at least not today." Neeria was glad that Arthur had given her an opportunity to stay behind the Wall for a while. She wanted to find the man she'd seen with Mikel's knife. She wanted to taste his blood. "When I heal, I will go back. I must make amends with Merlin - that is if he will hear me. Most likely he will want me dead. I was as close to him as Guinevere," she said softly. "I will stay here until the time is right to meet with him." The woad fell into a fit of coughing and dug in her head while she waited for Arthur to digest it all. Then she looked up at Arthur one last time. "I'm sorry, Artorius. I know now that my fight is not with you either." |
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| golden_trillium | May 11 2010, 01:06 PM Post #198 |
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Author: Darya Date: Wed Oct 22, 2008 6:57 am Darya
“Careful, Jols…or I’ll use the time with the hawk to teach it to go after cheeky squires instead of mice and rats…”, Darya quipped and gave the older man an almost challenging glance…even though she truly didn’t feel like joking around. Some really serious things still lay heavy on her mind…but since those were deeply private matters, the dark-haired was wearing her almost perfect mask again. A mask usually only Arthur could see through. For everyone else, it was just general concern about the mission and the men’s well-being. However, Jols' teasing was a welcome distraction…for herself and for everyone else who might get the idea of asking her private questions…
Darya listened quietly to what Tatiana was replying to her earlier questions. Some of the girl’s words sounded almost painfully familiar. The Sarmatian, too, had been supposed to follow in her mother’s path. But other than in Tatiana’s case, the new path in Darya’s life had neither been chosen by herself or her parents, nor had it turned out to be really good. At least not for a long time…and even these days, the dark-haired didn’t know where it would lead. Especially not now…considering the latest development in her life. The Gods apparently decided to test her…her and maybe Arthur, too. But why now? Darya had no idea… Blinking a few times, the female Sarmatian forced herself to stop those thoughts and to focus on Tatiana instead. This was the girl’s story…not hers. “I see…”, Darya said and licked her lips stiffly, “…then what are these desires, dreams and wishes of yours, Tatiana? I find it hard to believe that it is working in a stable… And what did you find so bad in the idea of becoming a healer?” With that, the woman gave Tatiana a wry smile. |
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| golden_trillium | May 11 2010, 01:07 PM Post #199 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Wed Oct 22, 2008 9:18 am Brendyn Tyranus had waited patiently for his master to finish whatever business he had with the two fighting humans, but enough was enough already. The horse shook his head and snorted in impatience, and in doing so, had undone his reins form the post it had been loosly tied to. The horse noded his head up and down a few times, then turned and walked at a slow, deliberate walk, to get the young soldier who was standing next to the other human who had been so kind to him (Malcus). The smell of blood sort of unnerved him, but then, he was a war horse and had gotten use to the smell...sort of. The short walk brought him to stand in front of the two men, and Brendyn reached out a hand to take the reins, while Tyranus reached out his soft muzzle to inspect the other man. Brendyn prayed to god that the Captain would understand , and not yell at the animal for wondering if he was alright. Horses normally did that to their young or their companions after a fight or in an unexpected injury of some sort. Animals just had that instinct. "He said he was fine, Tyranus," the soldier said as he looked from the horse to the Captain and back. The horse was worse then his aunt had been: always wondering if Brendyn was alright, or where he was, or if he was hurt, or whatever. If Malcus did not need help or assisstance then Brendyn would take his beloved horse and go back to where he had waited before. He waited a moment more, before saluting the Captain, and taking the reins, led Tyranus back to the place where Brendyn had loosly tied the horse up before. The fight had broken the momotaniny of waiting, but it had not been a fun thing either. With Malcus's temper, the Stable master was glad to not be getting a good lashing. He had never seen such insolence in a civilian toward a superior officer! The horse playfully laid back his ears, and turned his head to nip at the soldier's cloak, and Brendyn had to laugh softly, 'Aye, y' old mother hen you...always curious and concerned eh?' he whispered to the animal... |
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| golden_trillium | May 11 2010, 01:09 PM Post #200 |
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Author: Elessars Girl Date: Wed Oct 22, 2008 11:50 am Arthur
As anticipated, Lancelot was instantaneously at Arthur’s side the moment Neeria had collapsed against the Commander’s chest. Arthur briefly ticked his eyes to Lancelot and silently conveyed that he had Neeria well in hand…for now. But if the young woman persisted in crying…..he released a deep breath between slightly parted lips while still working to steady Neeria on her own two feet.
All three of Arthur’s ‘protectors’ had immediately reacted which had the Commander inwardly sighing. He knew that he was in no danger from Neeria, however he did appreciate each of them for their concern. And….both Neeve and Tristan had a point. Arthur knew not what Neeria’s motives were. While Malcus had brought her back to Badon by force, she may very well still be capable of causing Arthur trouble. And then Neeria did something unexpected….she reached out and touched Arthur’s cuirass; her tiny dirty fingers traced random patterns over the tooling and moved upwards until Neeria’s hand had found Arthur’s at her shoulder. Arthur had remained silent while allowing the girl to familiarize herself with his dress. Her movements were slow and curious and certainly not alarming to the Commander. But when Neeria took Arthur’s hand in her own, his instinct was to pull away – not allow such an intimate contact. Yet…he recalled Guinevere’s similar reaction upon their first close encounter….and thus looked upon the action as a way of silent communication and openness. However, Arthur’s expression remained neutral even as Neeria’s tearful eyes widened up at him as if she begged for his attentions….perhaps she asked for his protection from the others present…perhaps Arthur should heed Tristan’s council….but Arthur needed information and was willing to give Neeria her chance….
Arthur listened intently while Neeria divulged the information on Merlin’s location. He pulled his hand from her grasp – albeit gently still – the moment Neeria had brought his fingers to her cheek. Arthur had no intention of allowing any further intimacies to occur. He nodded once in acknowledgement as Neeria continued…..
Arthur frowned in mild concern while the girl coughed and recovered her composure; again speaking to him with apparent openness. His wounded side slightly twinged and thus a hand went to carefully rest over the location of the stitches. But Arthur gave no outward indication of any discomfort. He bit back the inclination to ask just who was this girl’s enemy if she was professing to not fight Arthur now? Curious, but not important at the moment for Arthur. “I have no intention of killing anyone,” Arthur clearly stated before continuing. “I thank you for the information, Neeria. And in return, you have my word that no one will harm you here. You are free to return to your people when you are willing and able to do so,” Arthur said with a slight tilt of his head and a small gesture with his free hand towards the opening of the small cell. Lancelot still stood close enough that Arthur’s fingers brushed over the knight’s shoulder in the movement. “Neeve,” Arthur called to the healer while he took a step to the side so that he could turn enough to see the Briton’s face. “I am placing Neeria in your care for now. See that she is given clean clothes, food and access to the baths…I will compensate you when I return,” Arthur said with an expression that held his gratitude for what he had just requested of Neeve. “Neeria, I thank you for your cooperation and I will accept your word that you will be of no trouble while you remain within the walls of my fortress, hm?” Arthur said while once again turning to look down into the teary dark eyes of the Woad before him. Perhaps it was a weakness that Arthur held compassion for the women caught up in the battles of men. Perhaps he had been too indulgent to allow any of Merlin’s people to take shelter at Badon over the years….but that was the sort of man Arthur was…..he would give quarter to those in need no matter their bloodline. He would always protect those unable to protect themselves. And at this moment - despite the fact that this girl had once held a knife at his throat – Arthur saw only a frightened, hungry girl in need of his help. He stood firmly before Neeria while awaiting her word….then Arthur would go forth in search of Merlin and in search of peace. The fingers of his free hand slowly opened once and then closed into a loose fist at his side. Excalibur hung proudly at his left side and despite the dimly lit dungeon, Arthur appeared bright and strong and noble effortlessly….completely confident and completely concealing the maelstrom of pain both physical and emotional that continued to rage within that calm steely exterior. |
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| golden_trillium | May 11 2010, 01:12 PM Post #201 |
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Author: Pinkie Date: Wed Oct 22, 2008 12:34 pm Mari
Mari took the proffered sheet with a small smile, inclining her head in gratitude. Now that she knew Linnette was a real lady she felt obliged to defer to her, to almost genuflect to her. It was not every day that she met someone who owned their own Villa now was it? She was just about to continue into the tavern when Linnette tossed out a most generous offer that Mari was at first unable to articulate a response to for better or worse. Her eyes bugged and her mouth dropped open in astonishment, the prospect of being taught any of those things, but especially things like reading and writing, was ... incredible. She felt her cheeks blush and she snapped her mouth shut, looking down to the ground as Linnette proceeded to comment on Kolya.
The young woman didn't take offense. In fact she found herself giving an impish grin that her father had made such an impression in such a short time. She gave a weary shrug of her dainty shoulders and breathed a laugh. "I know." she assured Linnette, feeling for the first time in her life, like a proper grown up, finally feeling like she had come from under her father's thumb and was making her own mark on the world. TO be able to speak about him without jumping to his defense immediately was strange. But it was also entirely foreign so Mari found herself adding, just as they passed the pretty red-head behind the bar named Vanora who Linnette threw a greeting towards - "But he's not all bad you know. He's quite knowledgable about horses. And all kinds of animals. It's his best skill." she said, turning to give the woman behind the bar, Vanora, a brief wave as she tottered onwards after Linnette, not realising that she was in a part of the tavern she would not normally be admitted to until it was too laet. She stopped in the doorway and looked around with wide eyes, tipping forward to look all the way around the little office but not crossing the threshold out of politeness. Where she had gleaned such a polite nature was anybody's guess. "Did you really mean it? That you'd teach me to read? And write? I would be so greatful if you would... Obviously, " Mari became serious now, her brown eyes dropping in respect for teh dead and the sorrow of the situation she was about to recall - "Obviously in due time, when you've properly grieved for your husband." Galahad Galahad took a long time to cross the courtyard. His pace was slow and deliberate. His curly black hair was tousselled by the breeze, then plastered in an odd array by the sleet-like rain. It was not a heavy downpour but it was chilling, making the young Sarmatian shiver more than once. He looked up a moment and thought he saw Alina skirting towards the infirmary but wasn't sure as a splattering of sleet decided that moment to attach itself to his eyeball. With a muttered curse, the knight half-turned away from the breeze and used the edge of his cloak to wipe his eye, leaving it bleary and red... more bleary and red than his other eye that is. The bruises on his face were slight, quite alot hidden beneath his dark beard. He had a lump across his forehead and was a little pale from the loss of blood from the wound on his side, but other than that he was not looking all too shoddy. Turning back to the stables, the Knight narrowed his blue eyes to those in the doorway, giving a nod to those he knew best - Bors, Jols, Darya, Malcus and Quintus. The others he gave a distracted harumph to as he sidled past them, head bowed, muttering something about 'morning', 'horse', 'scrub', 'manure' and 'hay'. He was hoping against hope that no one would be bothered stopping to talk to him because he was feeling much too sorry for himself to do anything but whine. At least Lancelot and Gawain weren't there... Catherine Catherine had not reacted in a noticeable way to the sounds of commotion from the stables. She had her back to it and so when she heard the noises she had resolved not to look back, not to seem too eager. Her back straightened and had she been a dog, her ears would have been pricked. Her eyes were very still, her breathing very shallow as she tried to hear what was going on amongst the soldiers. It was not unusual for fights to break out amongst the men. Especially when things were so uncertain... Once there was quiet and the shuffle of feet dissipated the blonde slowly tilted her head to the side, looking over her shoulder with a puzzled, worried look on her pretty face - the face of a woman looking for comfort. Of course she was not as alarmed about what had just happened as she appeared to be - but it never did any harm for burly men like those near the stables to think a fragile flower like she was anguished by their squabble. Delicately the woman trailed a strand of blonde hair across down her nose to touch her lips as she rested her chin on her shoulder, watching the men without pretending she was not - though she did not meet anyone's eyes more than the next man's. |
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| golden_trillium | May 11 2010, 01:13 PM Post #202 |
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Author: Starbelle Date: Wed Oct 22, 2008 2:33 pm Tatiana
Listening to Darya, she thought about it before choosing to answer the second question first. "It wasn't that it was a bad idea..I just didn't feel that it was quite right for me or that I wasn't quite suited for it, really. I don't know..I just felt more drawn to the animals I suppose, than I was to the plants. Being a healer is an ok profession, it just..didn't..fit or feel right to me.." "I suppose that I'll find them out for myself later..Since I've got plenty of time to decide that, really." Tatiana replied with a little shrug. |
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| golden_trillium | May 11 2010, 01:15 PM Post #203 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Wed Oct 22, 2008 8:05 pm Linnette
Linnette glanced up at Mari from behind the desk, where she had ducked around to search for her best paper in the drawer while Mari stood in the doorway. Her eyes were saddened- sadness being so very, very close to the surface for her, any mention would do it- but as she met Mari's tentative, under-the-lashes gaze, a little, sad smile settled on her face. She took a deliberate breath, once more pushing down the tightening of her throat. "I may need a distraction long before that, Mari. I'd be happy to teach you whatever you want to know." Her smile twitched bravely a little higher, her eyes solemnly blinked back a hint of moisture, and then she dropped her eyes to the desk drawer, continuing to rummage in it while with the other hand she belatedly beckoned Mari to cross the threshhold. "Come in, come in. I think I have some paper here..." Exasperated by her inability to find it, Linnette dropped to a crouch and dug deeper into the drawer, gritting her teeth against the aching of her hand- and finally, there it was! On the bottom of the drawer, several fine sheets, a higher quality than were in her ledgers- the nice stuff she used to write official reports to Arthur twice a year. Well, that were supposed to be used for that- truth to tell, Linnette had only written one of them, having been in the fort only- what was it? Eight months? But anyway, that was what they were supposed to be used for, but Linnette didn't think one sheet used for another purpose would matter too much. It was the very best possible purpose, after all. "Is that good?" Linnette separated two sheets of the fine stuff from the rest, straightened up, and pushed them across the desk to Mari, their surfaces almost shining white, so well-bleached were they. Very nice quality, that. Shutting the drawer, Linnette reached for some ordinary paper from the stack on top of the desk, separating off several sheets of that and handing them over, too. "That can be for practicing...I assume you might need to practice first?" She looked at Mari, puzzled, realizing she didn't really have any idea about how the artistic process went. What else would Mari need? How much time would it all take? "And then a good sheet for the final picture?" Linnette asked uncertainly, looking questioningly at Mari to see her reaction, to see if this was considered adequate. What else might she need? "Do you need pencils? Ink?" Linnette looked about her desk surface, aimlessly grabbing at an ink bottle, moving it a fraction, then setting it down, before pointlessly adjusting the position of a scrap she had been doing some figuring on, too. Last time she had sat at this desk, she had had to take frequent breaks to keep from getting tears on her ledger- so this frantic drive of activity was an improvement over that. "I'll get you anything you need," she added, a hint of her former desperation now showing in her voice- but eagerness, too, eagerness to get this started, while all was still as fresh as it could be in her mind. |
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| golden_trillium | May 11 2010, 01:17 PM Post #204 |
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Author: Lancelot Date: Wed Oct 22, 2008 9:58 pm Lancelot The First Knight still kept a tight grip on the hilt of his sword; he didn't care what Arthur thought about this girl - yes, she was tiny compared to the hulking giant Roman that Arthur seemed in contrast, but Lancelot himself had seen what that 'tiny girl' could do with a weapon. And then...she stepped even closer to the commander, despite the three well armed folk standing around the two figures in the cell. And she touched him - as if she knew him. Lancelot's brain immediately screamed two things - danger! and the more surprising get the fuck off him, girl. Jealousy suddenly reared its head and the Sarmatian found himself staring at the almost intimate way the chit was rubbing her face on Arthur's hand - fucking Woad! Their enemy and she was practically kissing Arthur's skin. Without realizing it, Lancelot stepped closer and a small growl echoed out of his mouth, the bruises on his face and the residual dirt making him look almost feral - the torch light played on his angular features, and his angry red eye still wept tears of physical pain.
No, fool, no! Lancelot shook his head, making to speak, but the Roman continued on, seemingly oblivious to Lancelot's obviously annoyed reaction - even though in gesturing, Arthur's hand brushed Lancelot's leather clad shoulder.
Oh, therein lay the rub. "Arthur," Lancelot spoke, before anyone could stop him. "Can you not see through this? She is fooling us! Just because one is tiny and 'helpless' does not make one trustworthy - she is a Woad. Do you not remember what they did to me the last time?" He held up his right hand, and spread his fingers, the crookedness showing easily. "Do you not remember it was a 'helpless' woman who did this?" He turned narrowed, darkly glittering eyes on the small, seemingly pathetic figure in the cell with them. "Girl - it's Commander, by the way." He cocked his head and took one step forward. "You may have him blinded, but I am not so easily swayed. I saw the knife in your hand; I saw you leap onto his horse," he jerked his head toward Arthur, "and I saw you try to murder my ala commander and my friend, just as easily as I see the blue paint that still stains your skin." He spat and cursed in his native tongue, and realized he'd pulled his sword halfway out of the sheath. Slamming it back, his leathers dragged at his thin hips dangerously as he backed away from the damned Woad and the confines of the horrid, claustrophobic room. He turned his injured eye on Tristan. "You remember where to find the magician?" he asked. "Otherwise, I think I'd say take this girl back to her 'family' and let them fucking sort it out." His gaze found Arthur, the Roman's uniform and his presence outshining them all. "I am making this known, as your second, Artos, that I think this is a very bad idea. But, as always," and by the gods, but Lancelot had to swallow back the bile that threatened, "I will...abide by your decision." And now I need to vomit. |
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| golden_trillium | May 11 2010, 01:19 PM Post #205 |
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Author: Kayla Date: Wed Oct 22, 2008 11:56 pm Micah Micah knew that the fact that he was practically sulking, watching the interaction between Kayley and Smith, the woman he loved and the man that she was talking with when it could have been him, was unbecoming of a seasoned warrior such as himself. He was quiet in nature and sensitive, never one to do anything to disturb whatever peace was set upon himself or his fellow woads and as such, he had never fully admitted to the fact that he was in love with the woad woman. Letting things stew inside of him was much more something that Micah was prone to doing, rather then speaking out of term or when he thought that he had no reason to be speaking. His energy went into the fighting that he did for Merlin, for the cause that all his people fought for and for the things that he believed would set his people free. Never spoken aloud, though, he only demonstrated this with his intense loyalty to his leader and the way that he fought, which was brutal and perfected to what would almost be considered an art, if that's what killing enemies was. Pressing a hand unconsciously to his neck, where one of his worst scars was placed, he rubbed it gently, his expression practically a glower as he turned away from the spectacle that was making him want to turn territorial and if that happened, going up to the two woads was almost inevitable, even if it was just to join in the conversation. Love could be an awkward thing, especially when the person that you wanted had no clue of the feelings that were going on. Which wasn't necessarily all Kayley's fault, since his emotions tended to be fairly wrapped up unless he was on the battlefield, when the good-natured man turned into the warrior that he truly was meant to be since birth. His parents, like most woads, had been warriors and from a young age, even before he was typically ready to be trained, they had been strict about drilling their ways into his head and he had never let go of them, even when his mind had been other places, such as Kayley and looking out for her as much as he possibly could. "By the Gods, quit sulking!" His hallucinations never seemed to leave Micah and they had the tendency to pop up at the worst times - like now, for instance, when Garrett spoke up to him. Micah knew that he should have been focused on the burial that was about to take place, one of their fellow woads having shown her disloyalty to Merlin but his mind strayed. It wasn't hard, either, with the scene being played out right in front of his eyes and taking away an attention from other matters that he should have been dwelling on. Snapping to attention, however, he turned away from Kayley and Smith and started getting prepared to leave, not letting anyone see the jealousy that had become quite clearly shown in the passing minutes through his expression and in his eyes. If he had been too embarrassed to tell her that he loved her all this time, then by the Gods, he didn't want anyone seeing the way that he was looking at the two of them. Fiona Worrying was not something that Fiona was good at nor was it something that she did often. Being young as she was, she knew that things could probably get a lot harder for her as she got older, when the real trials started, instead of at her tender age of just seventeen, which was why she was almost never seen worrying about anything. It wasn't in her nature to be stressed out over every tiny thing, like how she was curious with almost everything that she came across. The only thing that had ever really gotten to her and made her worry was when she had been living with her family, the woads and all the fighting that she was having to do went against what she actually wanted to do. It had been something she had always been adamant about, the fact that she didn't like the wars and the fighting that was having to do, each killing like a mark of some sort on her soul. But this time, it was a different situation all together that was making Fiona worry and she knew she had every right to. Her encounter with Tristan and Neeve the previous night had lead her to this point, where she was biting her lip and wearing an expression that one would not usually see on the young woad. The scout had managed to think of what she didn't think anyone would figure out - that it had been her to help the little woad Eala to escape from that horrible prison she had been placed in. Of course, the dark haired girl had denied it but the suspicions were still there and it made her anxious about what would happen. He knew that she lied about not having anything to do with Eala, since he had said so himself and before leaving, Tristan had said that Arthur would be hearing about it. She didn't even want to contemplate thinking what would happen once the Commander was told of Tristan's suspicions. She'd been here at the fort for only over a week, and was already managing to get herself into trouble, in the one place that she had wanted to be for some time, if only to get away from the fighting and the wars. She was away from it alright but had found herself in another mess, one whose outcome Fiona wasn't sure of. She could only imagine and concoct a few thoughts of what might happen, always one for thinking big and not always reasonably. Whatever happened, though, she knew she couldn't stop it from taking place. The woad knew that she couldn't exactly go to Tristan and ask him not to tell Arthur, since it would be an admittance that she had done something wrong and as for now, she was keeping up with the lie that she hadn't. Fiona knew she needed to get her mind off of this and the next morning, after a night of restlessness, she headed for the baths, having not been there in a matter of days. She took a pair of her pants and a tunic and went there as soon as she woke up. The warmth of the water that was in front of her as she peeled off her dirty clothes looked inviting and as she slipped into the bath water, she felt herself relaxing slightly. The baths were empty of any people and she took the time to just sit there and enjoy herself for a few minutes, letting the water soak into her limbs and warm her from head to toe, a relief after being out in the cold. Everything that had bothered her in the past few hours was momentarily forgotten, even as she finished scrubbing herself with the soap that was available and got out of the warmth, drying herself off with a clean towel and slipping into her pants and tunic, her cloak placed on top of her shoulders to help a bit with the coldness of the outside once she was back out of the bath house. Fiona was calm for the time being as she walked back to Bors and Vanora's house to distribute her dirty clothes and take off again, knowing not where she would go. Wandering around the fort had become something that the young woman had started to enjoy, just taking in the sights that were so different from what she was used to. And the size of the place seemed to go on forever, which made her exploring spread out over a few days and then, she planned to try and memorize where everything was, so that she wouldn't get lost. All of this was distracting to her, so when the woad was moving by where building repairs were being made and tripped over something that had managed to get in her way and escape her attention, she let out a rather loud cry of "Gods!" when she fell to the ground. She landed on her hands and the feel of a stray upturned nail that had been on the dirt going through her hand made her whimper slightly. Fiona sat back on her bottom, cradling her injured hand with her free one and taking a closer look at it, trying not to let the sulking expression on her face drift into a cry like she was tempted to, both from the pain and the sheer fact that if this was a sign of how things were going to start going for her, she wasn't in for anything good. The nail was lodged into her hand, not as deep so as to pierce through the back of her hand but still painful and not something she would have wanted to take out by herself. The ache in her wrists from landing on them only added to what she was feeling and she sat there for a moment, shivering from the cold and almost despising the fact that she had no idea what she should do, before the idea of the infirmary came to her. She had been in it yesterday, after coming across Galahad, Gawain and Lancelot, all looking bedraggled after a fight and the woad had stuck around for a while, to help. And while it wasn't a place that she was too keen on being, at least not when she herself had gotten hurt, Fiona knew that there wasn't anyway that she was going to get the nail out of the center of her hand without some assistance. A slight pout on her face, Fiona got up slowly, working her way towards the infirmary, the place that everyone seemed to dread but she herself was somewhat grateful for in this moment. It didn't take long for her to arrive and once she entered the building the young woman, still clutching her injured hand with the one that wasn't injured, looked around for someone to help her. |
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| golden_trillium | May 11 2010, 01:21 PM Post #206 |
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Author: Darya Date: Thu Oct 23, 2008 8:50 am Neeve Neeve couldn’t believe what she was seeing and hearing. Everything seemed to be so wrong about the scene in front of her. Yes, Arthur was a compassionate man…but the Woad girl had almost killed him! Was he refusing to remember this? Or had he forgotten about that already? And again the Briton wished she had never come here…or had just poisoned Neeria when she had had the chance. It would have been easy to make it look like a natural death…and no one would have missed the Woad. Of that Neeve was certain. The woman’s fingers drummed on the hilt of her small knife…
What? The healer’s mouth dropped open for a moment as all her instincts told her to protest against this…and her whole expression remained rather annoyed; yet the woman closed her mouth again without saying anything at first. What have I done to deserve this…this punishment? She pressed her lips into a thin line and just stared at Arthur. No, Neeve was not happy about this request. On the contrary, it was only increasing her anger, the general anger and hatred against the Woads. But this was hardly the time to argue about it with the Commander; he didn’t know what had been exchanged between her and Neeria before…and he didn’t know why the healer had such…issues…with dealing with Woads. At least dealing with them so directly. Now I am a Woad-sitter…can it get any worse?, the raven-haired thought and lowered her gaze for a moment “I…”, Neeve began but then bit her tongue. Gods, she so felt the urge to reject Arthur’s request. Every fiber of her heart was screaming to do just that…and her blue eyes were clearly reflecting this. “As you wish…Commander”, she then murmured slowly, yet unable to suppress the still present chill in her voice, “…though I don’t think this is a good idea…” It was the first time in a long while that the healer was anything but consenting with the Roman…and she didn’t even try to hide her annoyance.
Now this made Neeve roll her eyes. She glanced at Lancelot and hoped to find the same angry confusion in his face that she was feeling. And indeed, the First Knight definitely seemed to share her anger…and he voiced it clearly…
The Briton’s gaze shifted towards the Sarmatian’s hand and she frowned at what she saw. Those fingers had been broken and not been taken care of by a healer afterwards. No surprise, actually…since Lancelot had always been the last person to be seen in the infirmary. However, the knight’s words partly reflected her own thoughts, thus Neeve just nodded slightly in agreement. “Plus that a Woad walking about the Fort freely in the currently tensed situation and atmosphere will definitely become the target of the people’s anger…and I am no bodyguard…nor am I willing to risk my own life for someone who has tried to kill you, Arthur”, the healer stated and dared to address the Roman in a less formal way, “…I can only agree with Lancelot. Woads are not to be trusted…” When the knight then addressed Neeria, Neeve could not help but smirk slightly. Maybe she could talk Lancelot into 'assisting' her in baby-sitting the prisoner.
Amen to that, the raven-haired thought with a Christian quote that she had picked up a long time ago and glanced from Lancelot to Arthur to Tristan and back to the First Knight. If even he could not convince the Commander to rethink his plan…no one could. |
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| golden_trillium | May 11 2010, 01:25 PM Post #207 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Thu Oct 23, 2008 1:39 pm Tristan
Tristan shifted very uncomfortably, his fingers gripped ever-tighter around the hilt of his sword, as the prisoner spoke her piece. She described the location of the village in unexpected, meticulous detail, and Tristan, for his part, carefully memorized every word- but a large part of him did not believe them. She would give away the location of Merlin's village so easily? Just tell them exactly where to find it? It had to be a trick or a trap. Neeria might not have had a happy night, but she wasn't broken yet, and she was a Woad, which meant she was devious and tough. And she had tried to kill Arthur. That stood out in Tristan's mind still as the damning evidence against her- she had tried to kill Arthur. And she was a Woad. And Arthur, for his part when he spoke, was still being far too kind...
"Arthur..." Tristan exclaimed in exasperation, almost motivated to spill his whole suspicions about Fiona right then and there. Arthur was letting Neeria out? Letting her have the freedom of the fort, or close enough to it? Trusting her word? Fiona, who had been allowed to stay at the fort because she supposedly had no stomach for fighting, had still be extremely willing to help the little prisoner escape! How much more damage could Neeria, who was a proven warrior with demonstrated murderous intentions towards Arthur, do if she was free? Could not Arthur see it? Tristan's hand tightened on his sword hilt so much that his knuckles went white and his hand muscles cramped, but Lancelot, ever more glib, was speaking too, now, voicing much what Tristan was thinking, and the scout fell silent, letting the First Knight do the talking for now. This time, though, Tristan didn't take his eyes off Neeria for a second. He stared at her, projecting all his hatred of Woads in that gaze, pinning her beneath it and not letting her go. If she was to be let loose in the fort, at least she would know that Tristan watched her. And he would- he would never sleep again if he had to.
"Aye," Tristan murmurred, upon realizing that Lancelot had asked a question of him, but still not taking his eyes off Neeria. He remembered the way to the camp, that was a given. He had been there, so he remembered. But that was not what preoccupied him now. Dark thoughts were beginning to form themselves in his head- thoughts of slicing his blade across Neeria's throat, of how the blood would smell when it ran, of how she would choke and gurgle as her life drained away. Thoughts of how much pain he could cause her, how he could take on her some measure of revenge for all that had befallen him in his life. Oh, he knew so many ways to do it. So very many ways...Tristan hardly realized it, but he was leaning ever so slightly towards the prisoner, swaying towards her as though just barely keeping his black urges under control- but quietly. Very, very quietly. Never a noise from the scout as Lancelot ranted on.
"You should slit her throat," Tristan near-whispered as Lancelot fell silent, but though he said 'you'- he wanted to do it himself, that much was plain. His mouth caressed the words, and he found himself moving forward a step, drawn in by the intoxicating prospect of painful, bloody revenge. |
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| golden_trillium | May 12 2010, 09:40 PM Post #208 |
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Author: sabor ice Date: Thu Oct 23, 2008 4:25 pm Ash Ash had never meant to accept responsibility for Eala. He was far from the warm brotherly type, or the guiding light of a parental figure. He had always had his people, so in that sense, he was never alone, but aside from his extended kin, Ash had always been a loner. He led the life of a warrior, and had never wonted for any other life. There was a part of him that was very much resistant to the idea of prolonging a protective hand and care over another human life, especially one as fragile and impressionable as Eala. She would need him, look to him for direction and advice. She already did. Ash had never wanted to be that sort of constant in her life, and yet somehow, it was exactly what he had become. Now that he was apart of her life, and she his, he felt compelled to make sure he kept it that way. He had never been good socially, with human relations and the like - perhaps that was why he preferred his solitude. He didn't know how to express emotion without becoming almost territorial. He'd never been presented the opportunity before to try. Selfish of him maybe to think he had the right to claim possession over Eala like some piece of land, but for Ash, it was the only way he knew how to keep something he thought was 'his.' Damn any soul who would challenge otherwise. Perhaps that had been why he had been so intent upon rescuing her from the Romans. Not just because she was one of his people, but also because he didn't want to lose her - not to the Romans, not to anybody. She was all he had.
With a stifled groan of discomfort, Ash pressed his free hand to his achy abdomen and slowly rose from his crouched position, his other hand encompassing Eala's as he gently tugged her to her feet with him. With an unconscious sweep of his fingers to her cherubic cheeks, he wiped away her fallen tears, and rested a hand on her shoulder then as she looked up to him. Her black eyes were always so deep with wonder, wonder of things she didn't know or understand and wanted to. Just then he caught sight of Merlin - and shortly after Nolan - approaching. He dropped his palm away from his ribcage and turned slightly from Eala to offer them a cordial nod in greeting. "No worse for the wear, I assure you," Ash answered. "Juna has treated me well. She is truly gifted in her work." Kayley
"Gods willing, not the same thing that possessed Mona to turn on her own leader," Kayley intoned. She glanced over her shoulder and swept the area over with her eyes, but Guinevere was now nowhere to be found. He was not the only one that surely found Guinevere's behavior lately to be odd. Kayley frowned in concern, wondering what might have ailed the warrior princess. Surely she was well - Merlin would have seen to that if it were otherwise. The old leader seemed to be speaking privately with Nolan and Ash now, Eala by Ash's side. Kayley couldn't help but smile to herself to see the two spending time together. Surely with her brother gone, Eala welcomed having a friend. As for Ash, well, the company probably benefited him even more than it did her. "Mona apparently attacked Guinevere whilst on return from the mission at the fort, for reasons still unclear. Then, she endangered Merlin's life just this morning and had to be disarmed and restrained. After that...well..." She let her voice trail off, glancing from Smith toward the brush that was Mona's final resting place regrettably. Of course Merlin couldn't have allowed her to live after making an attempt on his life. She had been a liability, a threat, and above all things else, a traitor, and for that she had paid a heavy price. "It was just."
The corners of her mouth quirked, her mood severely uplifted by Smith's teasing. "Maybe he thinks you're going to steal me away," Kayley mused, with a dramatic roll of her eyes. The very idea made her shake her head dismissively; her gaze momentarily fell on Micah's back. The way he had sharply turned away had seemed rather deliberate. She turned on Smith then with a light, playful slap to his cheek. "Be nice," Kayley chided him. |
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| golden_trillium | May 12 2010, 09:42 PM Post #209 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Thu Oct 23, 2008 4:57 pm Merlin
"She is, isn't she?" Merlin allowed himself a fond gaze and a reminiscent smile over in Juna's direction- she was standing with her back to him, examining someone's bump or scrape, and as Merlin watched, the sound of her voice giving some insistent, blunt directions for something came over to them, the substance of them torn away by distance and the chilly wind, but the tone remaining, the very essence of Juna's personality distilled down to the minimum. Yes, she was gifted- by the Gods, Merlin would venture to say. Sent by the Gods to him- he was sure of that, at the least. "Well, Ash..." Merlin turned back to his warrior, businesslike once again. "Don't overdo it on the way back- there's always the litter if you need it. Eala- keep an eye on him." Merlin shifted his gaze to the girl with a paternal smile. He was proud of her- despite her disability, she had the potential to be one of his very finest some day. "Both of you did well. The Gods acted through you." Merlin assured them both of that with a confident nod, then shifted his attention to his second, who stood by. "As they will act through you and the others today, I hope...when you find our fallen." Merlin bowed his head briefly, letting a silent plea go up to the Gods for that- for the safe finding and laying to rest of the two warriors they had lost yesterday. |
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| golden_trillium | May 12 2010, 09:46 PM Post #210 |
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Author: LadyCastus Date: Thu Oct 23, 2008 8:32 pm Malcus Barbattus Malcus was still massaging his jaw and watching the blond beauty across the way when she turned slightly and looked over her shoulder. The captain, as she turned, saw the softess-looking tendril of her long locks fall against her cheek. she's ripe for the plucking...or fucking ...Malcus thought wickedly and chuckled out loud. Yes, it was time to make his move so he could slip off with her before Arthur and the rat showed up. He certainly didn't want to see Amadeus as he still didn't trust himself around the other man. Just as he was about to take the few short steps toward paradise, the captain was practically knocked over by a big, over-friendly stallion. "What the?" Barbattus said as he turned around. "What is it, man? Alright, alright!" he laughed. The horse obviously smelled the oats soaked in apple juice in the captain's pocket. He'd put them there for Falco's, his own mount, treat. "Here you go, fella," Malcus said as he reached in his small purse and gave some to the horse just as Brendyn grabbed the horse's reins. "He's a fine animal, Brendyn," the captain said and turned back around just as Quintus approached. "Quintus, I'll be leaving for a while. God speed to you Brendyn, and to you Quintus...and to you too, Titrus," he said loudly for Titrus to hear, "I'll buy all the ales you can drink when you return." With that, Malcus struck his chest at the three of them and left the stables, making his way over to where Catherine still sat. "Lovely morning it is," he said walking around to stand in front of her, taking her hand in his, "but not nearly as lovely as you," he said, kissing the soft skin on the back of her hand. Neeria Neeria still looked at Arthur as he gave his orders to Neeve. Neeria was to be in her care and given an opportunity to bathe, eat and get clean clothes. Neeve didn't seem to be too happy about the whole order and needless to say, neither did the Dark Knight.
Neeria, shifting her weight once again, thought about the Roman soldier she'd seen with Mikel's knife. She knew she would kill him, given the opportunity. "You have my word, Arthur. There is no fight left in me," she said. It was true, for the most part. Neeria meant no harm to anyone as long as they left her be to heal herself. But looking at those gathered around her, she knew that would be difficult - for them as well as herself.
Neeria looked wide-eyed at Lancelot's slightly crooked fingers. She'd been there the night it happened....how much pain he had suffered. She had not been a part of that night, but she had been there, watching. But the woad stayed silent, not making eye contact with Lancelot and the black storm that raged on the knight's face, even as he ranted on.
Neeria moved slightly to the right, standing a little closer to Arthur so that the commander's large frame blocked her view of Lancelot. Despite all of her bravery, his anger frightened her. The dark knight's hand still gripped the hilt of his sword and Neeria was unarmed with little room in the small cell to attempt escape. What if he struck out? Would Arthur be able to stop him? Would he stop him?
Neeria peered around Arthur and stared at Neeve who seemed to be much taller than she was a few moments ago. The hatred and anger was clearly streaked on her face, even in the shadows. Do we (the woads) hate them as much as they hate me? the thought popped in her head. This was the first time she had seen the faces of hatred so close up and aimed directly at her. Neeria felt extremely small next to them all. She wished Merlin was with her. He would know what to do. She didn't know what to do, what to say and she was becoming more frightened. She took a step closer to Arthur again, wanting to hide her face against his cuirass.
The voice was low and guttural. Animalistic, scratchy, like a growl. It sent chills down Neeria's spine and she suddenly realized her teeth were chattering. The small woman peered around Arthur once again to see who spoke in the voice of a demon. Neeria cringed when she saw it was the scout. It was Tristan that appeared to harbor the most hatred toward her. The icy coldness in his eyes was the most chilling thing Neeria had ever seen before. He seemed to be in a trance, a bloody, murderous fantasy in which Neeria was on center stage. Tristan looked possessed by a dark force. He looked grisly as shadows from the flickering flames danced on his face, making the tatoos on his cheeks look eerily demonic. The braids dangling on either side of his face swung like limp nooses. Tristan was glaring at her, almost maniacally, when he took a step forward. Neeria shrieked loudly and without thinking, pressed her small body against Arthur, grabbing him tightly, as though she was trying to melt into to him so as not to be seen. But she was only seeking protection from the scout who seemed to have gone mad. Nolan
"Good," Nolan said and nodded, pleased that the young warrior was well. Ash was strong and determined, a good man to have on their side.
Nolan noticed the softness that crossed over his master's face when he spoke of Juna. He was glad that Merlin at found at least a little piece of happiness.
"Merlin," Nolan said, holding down his head, "I do not deserve your blessings. I have failed you, my leader. Mona got next to you without me seeing or hearing her. If she had harmed you, it would have been my fault. I should have killed her long ago. The gods were surely with you that you awakened in time. She should have never gotten that close." Nolan snorted up contents from the back of his throat and spat them violently on the ground. "May she burn in the hottest fires of hell," he said angrily. Then he turned his brown eyes back to Merlin, "I will make it up to you with whatever sacrifice you wish," he said and waited for his due punishment. |
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