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| October 2008 | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: May 1 2010, 05:17 PM (3,217 Views) | |
| golden_trillium | May 4 2010, 01:07 PM Post #61 |
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Author: LadyCastus Date: Tue Oct 07, 2008 7:18 pm Karl Karl ached to take a drink from the flask tucked neatly beneathly his hauberk. But he thought better of it with so many people around. He'd get a sip as soon as they rode out. He licked his lips in anticipation. Just as he rounded Brutus to get him warmed up, Karl picked up pieces of a conversation, between the female Sarmatian and Jols, apparently about Karl and the comment he'd made.
"Well, it seems like you two sure are worried about something," Karl said snidely, startling both Jols and Darya with his sudden appearance. "And what might that be, eh? And why would the commander give a damn about what happens to a Sarmatian?" he asked, pulling Brutus' reigns so that the horse was right next to Darya. The large beast stared at her with dark black eyes. Brutus snorted at the dark-haired Sarmatian, shaking his thick mane and stamping his mighty right hoof. Karl laughed. "Maybe he doesn't like you," he said to her. "I know he doesn't like ole Jols over there. Come on boy," Karl said, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Karl walked toward the barn doors but stopped short at the entrance and looked back over his shoulder. "You should watch what you say. You never know who's listening." The Roman snickered and walked his horse outside. Malcus Barbattus and Titrus Malcus followed Titrus and Quintus out of building. When Quintus took off, apparently to his room to get dressed, Malcus caught up with Titrus. "Lieutenant!" Malcus called out. Titrus, surprised, turned around. "Yes, captain!" he responded, inwardly cringing. Surely Barbattus didn't want to lay him out more. "Look Titrus," Malcus said, "The past few days have been hell for all of us, including me. I'll be working in the stables while you and the others are gone. I've gone my own responsibilities that I have to answer for." The captain cleared his throat as the two men started walking toward the stables. Titrus had wondered why Barbattus was not in uniform and based on what the captain just revealed, Titrus put two and two together. Malcus had his own punishment to endure. "Keep your nose clean, Titrus and watch out for Scipio. He's a sneaky bastard. You'll have to be my eyes and ears for Arthur's sake. There's something about that..." Malcus caught himself, "the optio...that I can't put my finger on. Arthur is not as well as he claims. You are the senior officer so make sure Karl stays in line. Help Brendyn if he needs it. I wish I could go with you, but I can't. Watch Mordred too. If hell breaks loose, you can count on Karl. Of that I'm sure. But Titrus, you must have Arthur's back." "Yes captain, I understand. Do you think Merlin will be aggressive?" Malcus thought on that for a moment. The woad leader may be impatient. Arthur was taking a big risk, not being at his best. "I'm not really sure, Titrus. All the more for you to be on your toes." As they approached the stables, Karl was on his way out with his horse. Malcus nodded and held the door open for Titrus to enter. |
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| golden_trillium | May 4 2010, 01:08 PM Post #62 |
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Author: Lancelot Date: Tue Oct 07, 2008 7:34 pm Lancelot Arthur's touch on his hand again made Lancelot bite his lip and shove away the illicit thoughts that swam inside his already busy head; the damn fucking 'feelings' that hadn't wanted to go away for weeks now pointing and laughing at him like children as the Roman finally let go and moved away to fully dress now that his bandage was road-ready. Children. Gods.
Lancelot tried to hold back a snort, but only succeeded in sounding like he was choking. Arthur pulled his tunic over his head, and turned back to face Lancelot, and as the Roman stared at him, Lancelot saw something pass over his face that also seemed to have taken up residence on Lancelot's. Disbelief? Worry? Anger - no. Betrayal. A buzzing noise filled the Sarmatian's exhausted ears; he licked his dry lips and saw, imprinted darkly on the back of his mind's eye, images of Darya and Arthur, raising a child that Lancelot would have to see every day, would have to talk to and look at and admire and be reminded every single fucking minute of why he'd decided to give up his .... attachment to Arthur. I cannot give you what you want. He remembered physically shoving Darya into Arthur's arms; he could feel the woman's soft and strong frame in his hands as he passed her to Arthur. To the only person who'd made Lancelot feel as if he might...just perhaps...could be more than swords and a cocky grin and loneliness.
A tinkling sound was Lancelot's whole world; the glass around him - that wall of impenetrable strength and aloofness that only one person other than his Elaine had been allowed to see inside - shattered with what seemed to be an earsplitting crash. His eye closed briefly, and then opened. He took the two steps that separated them, and stared as best he could into Arthur's molten, burning gaze. The other man's voice might not have changed, but Lancelot knew him. Showdown, my own Arthur. "I have never. Fucked your woman, Arthur. I gave her to you because I couldn't provide what you need. Gods - don't you remember that? Don't you remember?" His voice was steady, but as if it were made from pure acid; it was Lancelot's own heart that melted and was destroyed in the stench and burn of his ire. Eyla. Catherine. Damned Galahad and his sense of honor! Gawain, the look of distrust that colored the blond's face as he had looked at Lancelot. The fuckin nun, of all people! Arthur's white face, his wound pumping blood onto the ground, and Lancelot hadn't been there to protect him. Had Arthur even wanted him there? I think you are afraid. But not of me. Those green eyes, narrowed in their anger and hurt, sliced through whatever sense Lancelot had left. The trembling that had begun in his hands spread to his arms and torso, and he raised his fists, the fingers clenching - by the gods, he wanted to slam them into Arthur's face - that face, he'd never forget it, ever - so badly - with a gutteral moan, he turned, and grabbing up the goblet he'd given Arthur earlier, he hurled the crockery thing into the stone wall, the explosion of wine and pottery echoing weirdly in Lancelot's ears - now that the protective glass he wore was gone. Shattered into a thousand pieces by one man, and one tiny idea. A child. |
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| golden_trillium | May 4 2010, 01:10 PM Post #63 |
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Author: Starbelle Date: Tue Oct 07, 2008 8:37 pm Jols The last time someone was able to sneak up and startle Jols like that was when he was still a teen-ager and had been the target of a lot of the other apprentices' mean jokes.
"Who said that we were worried about something?" The Squire muttered curiously. Glancing over at the dark-haired in concern, Jols asked "Are you ok, Darya? Not hurt anywhere, I hope?" He asked after he loosely wrapped his arms carefully but in a loose enough hug for comfort that she could pull out of easily, mentally kicking himself for not anticipating or foreseeing anything that might happen suddenly or unexpectedly. Hoping to lighten the situation, Jols tried for a bit of comedy to diffuse anything that Karl's action was trying to ignite with that little stunt. "Since when did he manage to start speaking in Horse, hmm? Cause I definetly sure don't." "Well, that takes care of that, then. His horse is off my list of those that I take care of permanently." Glancing around to make sure that he was gone, he spoke in a very low tone. "There's a girl who works here, I think that I'll transfer him and his horse for her to take care of." He said with a definetive nod. |
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| golden_trillium | May 4 2010, 01:13 PM Post #64 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Tue Oct 07, 2008 9:43 pm Ione The closeness of her child had calmed Ione's sobs though there was still a great amount of sadness still left within her. Ione knew little tiny Ian was dead, but just to the fact that she could hold the tiny figure in her arms gave Ione some time with her son: to talk to it and let him know things that he'd never hear...like "I love you, little Ian". Everything seemed so distant and lonely, even the sound of Mirtha's voice, and through her dark eyes, Ione could see Linnesse and Sister Margret still close as well. Everything seemed blurred, or were they the tears in her eyes? The realization that she had to let her child go to be with the gods haunted her, but right now all she wanted was this: to just hold him. It was a comfort to know that Linnesse was close by her side, the arm going about Ione's shoulder in a protective manner. Ione had begun to think that the nun was going to take Ian from her, and she had been ready to fight the nun off...or with what strength she had left in her. But the nun made no such move, but instead had raised her hands as if she meant no harm, and stepped back a bit...
Ione kept her dark eyes on the nun, and wondered what she had whispered to Linnesse before she had left the room, but Ione was beyond exhausted and just wanted to sleep with her son in her arms. Yes, she had stopped crying, but the overwhelming sense of sorrow that had built up in her as well as a feeling of lonliness refused to leave. Her eyes moved to the confused face of Mirtha, who had been silent through the ordeal...at least she had not heard anything from him. Ione closed her eyes and snuggled the little form near to her and kissed it's forehead lovingly. Ian would be sorely missed, and Ione even wondered if Javier would have stayed with her knowing that this had happened. Men, so she had heard, liked women who bore strong healthy children, not dead ones. The young weaver closed her eyes as it was hard to keep them opened, and a face came to her mind, but it was not one she expected. Her lips moved against the soft skin of the baby, and she whispered, '...Titrus...' it was all she murmured. For a long time, the Lieutenant had come into her shop to buy clothing and blankets as well as cloaks or to have his cloak repaired. Ione had always thought he was a nice sort of guy, and she thought him a good friend. She murmured his name again, softer as she recalled that he had forfitted some sleep to stay with her after he and Quintus had brought her in. It meant a lot to know that they cared...
Ione heard the two converse, and as much as she wanted to, she was beyond exhausted, her body ached from the stress of pushing, and her soul was sick with sorrows...more than she had ever thought she would have in her life. Slowly, she turned her head into the blanket that held her son, and slipped away into a deep dark sleep while murmuring to her tiny son, then she began to hum as the sleep took her deeper. In her thoughts the face of a handsome lieutenant comforted her like the good friend he was..... Brendyn
Brendyn was not oblivious to what was being said, but he also kept up on checking over everything as many times as possible wanting Tyranus to be as comfortable as he was. He did not know this Karl fellow, but from what Jols and Darya were saying, he was not one to be trifled with, though, as Brendyn's memory refused to let him forget, he had dealt with Karl's kind before. The young soldier said nothing, but was ready to act if this Karl caused harm to either Darya or Jols. He kept an ear open while he went about checking in a saddle bag on his left to make sure the items were in there that were needed: a blanket in case it took more than a days ride, though he doubted it, but it was good to be prepared for such things, and some bandages and some medical things just in case. If the Commander was still injured, then he'd need some attention not doubt...
Brendyn looked up from his work and arose to his full height with an inward frown. It seemed this Karl had very few friends and Brendyn could see why. What he failed to understand was why a man like that was allowed to come on this mission if he was such a bad egg? Antonius would never have allowed it, and would have rather killed a soldier that acted like that then keep him in the legion, but perhaps this man was good at fighting, which, right now, Brendyn didn't doubt a bit. The young soldier was suddenly alerted inwardly as Karl began to speak his piece. Even his voice was not the friendliest, and was akin to the soft hissing of a snake about to strike. Brendyn moved over to where he had placed his dagger next to his sword, and pulled it out to inspect the knick in the blade, then tested it for sharpness. Nothing was worse than going anywhere with a dull blade. Satisfied, he placed it back in the sheath...
The soldier cringed inwardly as Jols began to jest carelessly in reply to the unfriendly soldier. Brendyn used every bit of his self control not to go out and just whollop the tartly man for such ill manneredness, and he also felt that verbally jousting with this man was not worth it. The man had not harmed Darya and Jols, and though words hurt, it was better than being attacked with a knife. Tyranus made no move toward showing what he felt about the man who had spoke. Bullies such as this one needed to be dealt with, and he was the type of man Brendyn was not afraid to kill if he placed anyone in harms way. Karl was not far off when, Tyranus left a huge present for the nasty soldier and his ill mannered horse. Brendyn almost laughed, but thought it best not to. The timing was comical to say the least. He looked from Darya to Jols, and then made one last check over everything leaving only one thing left to do, and that was mount up. Just as a stable boy came to clean up Tyranus's gift to Karl, Brendyn saw Malcus and Titrus enter the stables. Brendyn moved to the front of the black arab mix, and held the reins easily, stood at attention, ready for Titrus to go over the horse's trappings, and to make sure that Brendyn was ready to go. Tyranus looked ahead, his ears perked forward at the sight of the two men, then turned his head slightly to nudge anxiously at Brendyn's arm. The black horse nickered and pawed lightly at the ground in front of him as if eager for whatever adventure awaited he and his young master... |
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| golden_trillium | May 4 2010, 01:14 PM Post #65 |
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Author: sabor ice Date: Wed Oct 08, 2008 3:51 am Ash Her reaction surprised him, although it probably shouldn’t have so much. Or rather he felt suddenly alienated from the comfort zone he had established with the girl. He hadn’t programmed into his mind what to do in the instance of a melt-down on her part, probably because it was rare to see Eala so emotional. That was why her reaction had surprised him. Ash wasn’t the only one who often treated Eala like an adult. It sometimes eluded him, the fact that she remained, above all else, still just a child beneath all of her bravado. And, now that Eala was actually acting the part of a child - sobbing and clinging to him for some sort of comfort or re-assurance or direction - Ash found himself casting an uncomfortable glance over Eala’s head toward others nearby, a part of him hoping they would know what to do now, because he sure as hell didn’t. Initially, Ash just went for the re-assurance route, giving Eala a light pat to the back, hoping it would be suffice. And, then she started BAWLING into his tunic! She started shaking her head as her whole tiny body convulsed with stifled sobs. To anyone who didn’t know her personally, they might not have been able to identify the girl’s silent plea. Ash had known her long enough, had spent enough time around her, that he knew what she wanted now - at least he thought he did. She wanted a moment and clearly out of the public eye. Who could blame her? He made to pull away, but the threat of deflection seemed to intensify her hold around his waist. Ok, so that wasn’t going to work…but they couldn’t just keep standing there…and he was by means in no shape to be hefting the ten year old, at least not as long as she had two legs and could walk on her own. With a sigh, Ash wrapped a secure arm around her shoulders - keeping her close and her face tactfully still hidden within the folds of his tunic - and led her away from the scene, back to the ancient birch tree where they had slept the last night. “Listen - “ he began after sitting the little Woad down and carefully hunkering down before her, coaxing her to lift her tear-filled black onyx eyes to meet his gaze. Ash doubted what he was about to say would comfort Eala much, but it was all he had. “We’ll be home soon…” he reached out with a gentle hand to lift her chin and managed a small wry smile. “…you and I…we haven’t done so bad together…have we now...?” |
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| golden_trillium | May 4 2010, 01:15 PM Post #66 |
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Author: Elessars Girl Date: Wed Oct 08, 2008 2:14 pm Arthur Lancelot closed the small distance between them – the man’s good eye dark as pitch and brimming with a fury that was no doubt about to be unleashed on Arthur for making such an accusation. But was it the truth? Arthur had to know it – no matter how painful. He met Lancelot’s gaze with his own unflinching and steely composure while the Sarmatian spoke….
Arthur was acutely aware of Lancelot’s tightened fists slowly rising at the other man’s sides. But Arthur stood his ground. He had had to know the truth. Yet it was not that particular confirmation that had Arthur’s gut painfully twisting as if caught in a vise…. I cannot give you what you want. Arthur’s mouth fell open as if he intended to speak, but no sound would come…no words could articulately express the torrent of emotions whirling about inside of Arthur’s head and heart. Arthur had not chosen Darya so that he could father a child with her where he could not with…..was that what Lancelot thought? Did Lancelot think Arthur so vain? Did the Sarmatian know him at all after all their long years together? For Arthur, it had never been about any need for a family of his own. He did not deserve such a precious thing as that. And quite frankly, Arthur still had not clearly been able to understand why Lancelot had offered Darya that day. Arthur remembered it as if Lancelot was giving the Roman a gift – a possession – in the exchange. And that moment had been the turning point where Arthur had allowed Darya back into his heart….but not without trepidation. Everything began to move in slow motion. Arthur’s eyes followed the path of the goblet as Lancelot flung the vessel across the room. He watched the wine stain the wall as the goblet shattered against it….bloody red streaks followed after the splintered pieces of the goblet to the floor. And then nothing – no fist to his jaw and no more accusations. I cannot give you what you want. “I remember it clearly….” Arthur finally said as his focus returned to Lancelot’s battered expression; albeit quietly and with no less emotion than was trembling throughout his whole body. That icy wall of armour that the Sarmatian typically wore seemed to be missing now. Lancelot appeared to be every bit as vulnerable as the Roman…at this moment. What am I not seeing? Arthur’s wounded side then twinged – effectively reminding the Commander of his physical weaknesses and the ‘here and now’. Duty demanded Arthur’s attention. Matters of the heart would have to wait. “Can I count on you to do what is needed in my absence?” Arthur said aloud despite meaning….What do you truly want, Lancelot? Every fiber of his being was screaming out at Arthur to reach for the other man. Settle this once and for all. But Arthur being ‘Arthur’, the Roman made a small sound much like a bitter sigh as he forced himself to turn away from the only person that had ever reached that place deep inside where Arthur’s true soul lived. I cannot give you what you want. “And that was my favorite goblet.” He added facetiously while turning to the chest of clothing again….and retrieving a pair of black leather trousers. |
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| golden_trillium | May 4 2010, 01:16 PM Post #67 |
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Author: Kay Date: Thu Oct 09, 2008 12:55 am Guinevere Guinevere watched silently as her father swiftly ended Mona's life. She felt numb; she and Mona had fought together, side by side, sisters in arms, but the sickness in Mona's mind had taken away the fearless warrior and replaced her with someone that the princess did not recognise. The blade flashed; blood gushing from her neck, Mona fell. Guinevere turned her face away. For all the lives she had ended herself, seeing one of her comrades die left a bad taste in her mouth. She walked away from the scene, wanting to be alone for a moment. This was not how a warrior should die; there was no glory here, but it was necessary. Mona had become a danger to them all. The princess drew a deep breath and mouthed a silent prayer. Then she squared her shoulders and prepared to continue on their journey. |
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| golden_trillium | May 4 2010, 01:17 PM Post #68 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Thu Oct 09, 2008 9:20 am Merlin "We go on." Merlin's firm, unquestioned order rang through the makeshift camp, even as Mona's blood still trickled out onto the ground. They were all awake and the sun was up- there was no more reason to wait any more. And who knew whether Castus would send anyone else after them today, either to talk, or to attack. He bent down, wiped his knife blade off on the dead Mona's tunic edge, and then sheathed it, sliding the blade home with a soft scrape. "You, you, you..." Merlin pointed out about eight Woads, almost half of the group, the ones which to his mind looked most rested. "You will backtrack this morning to the campsite and bury our brethren who fell there, if you can. Be cautious; Castus may send out more men. If you cannot reach the campsite safely, then commend their souls to the Gods with a prayer and return to us. As for the traitor..." he looked down at Mona's body and prodded it once with his toe. "You and you- " Two more. "Take her body back into the bushes and leave her. Let the beasts have her. Then we march on to the village." Without further discussion, Merlin crouched and began to roll up his own bedroll, as around him all the rest of the camp began to go about their duties of breaking camp and getting ready for another march. At least they had had a little rest, albeit in the cold, in relatively unprotected conditions. Arriving back at the village was going to feel very good- for all of them. Merlin's eyes fell worriedly on Guinevere for a moment- how was she taking this? She and Mona had been close, once. The Woad leader tightened the cord rolling his bedroll a last time, and then made his way over to his daughter, stepping around people and objects and general busyness as he went. "Guinevere." He spoke quietly, coming up somewhat behind her. A short distance off, Ash and Eala caught the corner of his eye- Eala appeared to be crying, and Ash was crouched in front of her, comforting her. The Woad leader made a mental note to go and speak to them soon- but Guinevere first. "We should arrive back at the village today," he told her, settling on a simple, unemotional statement to open the conversation. What he really hoped for, though, was some sign of how much Mona's death was bothering her- or wasn't. |
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| golden_trillium | May 4 2010, 01:19 PM Post #69 |
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Author: Darya Date: Thu Oct 09, 2008 1:21 pm Darya
Darya arched an eyebrow at Karl when he suddenly appeared next to her and Jols. You have no idea, she thought but didn’t say anything yet and merely lifted her chin slightly. She would certainly not tell this man why the Commander would care… And obviously Karl didn’t or didn’t want to know that Arthur always cared…for everyone. One way or the other. Then Karl reined his quite big horse unnecessarily close to and Darya could not help but narrow her eyes at the beast, its reaction and its master. She wasn’t scared by this…encounter…but didn’t feel exactly comfortable either. She had known men like Karl… The soldier was like Corvus, just older and in a lower rank…but the Sarmatian had no doubt that Karl was capable of the same…things…as her former Commander… Not the most pleasant thought…
Just when the dark-haired wanted to say something, she felt two arms embrace her from behind and she was slightly pulled backwards. Darya blinked bemusedly as this action took her totally off guard… She squirmed slightly in the arms' grip. “I’d rather say the horse has adapted to its master’s mood…”, the Sarmatian murmured and watched Karl and his mount move on…
Darya cleared her throat and gently freed herself from the squire’s grip. “I’m alright, thank you Jols…”, she said and turned slightly to look at the older man again. “It takes more than a grumpy horse to scare me…”, the Sarmatian added with a wry smile and then paused for a moment, “…and Karl definitely doesn’t belong to the folk that – according to the myth – understands and speaks in Horse…” The dark-haired now even breathed a quiet laugh as she once more referred to one of the myths that ranked about her people. “Sounds like a good plan…”, Darya then finished with a shrug of her shoulders as she commented on the squire’s idea for Karl’s horse… |
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| golden_trillium | May 4 2010, 01:20 PM Post #70 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Thu Oct 09, 2008 2:47 pm Adian Well, he had been anything but kind, but for the simple reason that he had not gotten a good night's sleep, and he was still trying to find a way to grieve and still get all of the things done that could not wait...or at least he thought they could not wait. He could feel his worries disappear as Tatiana, now fully awake due to his rude interruption of her sleep, her voice still full of sleep and whatever dreams she may have had, which, in Adian's present mood, he did not wish to hear...
.....Gods! If he was only strong enough to resist the innocent temptations of this young seductress. Adian sat on the edge of the bed, his back toward her, as she sat up and lay aside the blankets that had hidden her tempting form. He turned his head toward her, and looked into those soft green eyes....the way her hair fell over her shoulders attempting to hide her pert breasts....the tunic and skirt did not help much either. For a moment, all Adian could see before him was Thorn, her face staring at his, and he shook his head slightly until the face of Tatiana appeared again. Cautiously, he raised a hand to brush the thick cascade of curles from her left shoulder and bent forward to kiss the soft skin there, "Sorry..I woke you in such a...brusque manner....should have left you sleep longer..." he muttered, his lips brushing over the flesh as he spoke. Gods and Goddesses but she felt so good, and so close! Adian felt his body respond to her closeness though he knew he had no time for that sort of thing just now. The buildings had to be repaired, so that the fort looked decent again instead of a war zone. His long fingers stroked over her arms while his lips moved to her jawline...her chin...her warm lips, and there his lips caressed hers in a long lingering kiss. That was as good an apology as any he figured...
......."Mmmm...no..." Adian smiled slightly after a small kiss on her neck. He stood from the bed and waited for her to stand as well, and indicated the meal on the table. "It is thoughtful, Tatiana, but I have to get back to work. By god those woads cause more damage than termites!" He moved away from her, and looked down at the measuring tool that he had laid next to the bed while he enjoyed her closeness. Bending over to pick it up, Adian stood and looked at her, "There are so many buildings that need repairing that I may not be home for a while." A smile played on his face as he headed for the door again, "Have a good day at work, and I'll see you when my work is finished okay?" Gods! She was so upstandingly sweet! His eyes took in her slender form, and waited to see if she had anything else to say before he left.... |
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| golden_trillium | May 4 2010, 01:21 PM Post #71 |
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Author: Lancelot Date: Thu Oct 09, 2008 5:11 pm Lancelot I cannot give you what you want.
Lancelot's body still vibrated; it was as if he could feel what it had been like for the mug of wine to explode so violently against the brick wall of Arthur's rooms. His good eye ticked to the dark stain that seeped down the brick - bloody in its appearance. Arthur seemed not to care about the mess; that was strange. The consummate noticer of everything, the fact that the Roman was still watching Lancelot evenly - and with anger and hurt swirling in his green eyes - began to make Lancelot have...doubts. Had he done the right thing in answering truthfully? Did Arthur even believe him?
And then the worry subsided easily - succumbed by the ravenous appetite of Lancelot's fury and loneliness, and the many weeks of uncertainty and thought. He strode the few steps to where Arthur was standing at his clothing chest, toying with a pair of leathers he was obviously getting ready to put on. Lancelot's single sword banged painfully against his leg - he wasn't used to wearing it, and he couldn't seem to figure out how to walk correctly with it - and he reached out a hand. Jerking the leathers out of Arthur's distracted fingers, he pitched them to Arthur's bed and grasped the Roman's chin with a grip that belied his hurt. "You are not even listening to me, Arthur Castus. I am tearing myself raw here in front of you. And you make jokes??? How I am to talk to you ever again? You know what it's like for...." The fingers that held Arthur's stubbly jaw shook, and he dropped his hand, exhausted. He cocked his head and narrowed his eye, gaze never leaving Arthur's face. Familiar face. Loved face. He did not move, but he left his hands at his sides, the random trembling coming and going. "It has been long and longer since we had anything. You know all there is to know about me...and by the gods, but I miss it. And I don't know why and I'm so fucking confused and I hate this and I hate you. I hate you...and yet I cannot." He shook his head; his eyes both burned and shit - was that - no, for Mithras' sake, no tears. Please, please. "Yes, I will do what you ask. Partly because she is my kin and I would do no less for any woman or man of my land. And partly because it is your progeny - yes, Arthur, your child - and I would die rather than do wrong to you. "...and yet - I wonder what it will mean for me, in future." A future of nothingness, of endless battles, nights spent fucking whores to relieve his physical need, and days of doing a job that kept him by the side of the one person who'd been able to see into him. Into his meat, his flesh, his spirit, his blood. His heart. Damn them both. |
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| golden_trillium | May 4 2010, 01:22 PM Post #72 |
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Author: Starbelle Date: Thu Oct 09, 2008 5:55 pm Tatiana
"That's.. ok,.. love. Apology... accepted.." Tatiana replied amid soft gasps as she felt his soft kisses awaken pleasurable sensations in the young woman as she closed her eyes and moved her head away to give him greater access to her bare skin Feeling her skin break out both in goosebumps and shivers from the kisses and caresses that he trailed on her bare skin, made her unconsciously let out a small whimper when his ministrations stopped, but not before she wrapped her small arms around his neck and kissed him deeply on his lips in return slipping her small hands into his hair, before removing them and releasing him. Tatiana ran the tip of her tongue along her lips, feeling the tingle from his lips reawaken there as she did so. Seeing him stand up from the bed, she did likewise, the hemline of her skirt raising slightly on her long legs, making them seem longer once her bare feet were on the carpet next to her bed. Watching him as he bent to pick up the tool that he came back into their quarters for.
"Okay, Adian. Becareful up there on those buildings that you work on and I'll see you later. When you get home from work tonight, I'll treat you to something special that I think you'll really enjoy a lot." Tatiana replied her green eyes lighting up as if it was a secret surprise reserved just for him. I hope that he'll like it..He definetly seemed to when we were in the baths together. |
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| golden_trillium | May 4 2010, 01:24 PM Post #73 |
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Author: Elessars Girl Date: Fri Oct 10, 2008 8:41 am Arthur I cannot give you what you want. I will love you and need you until the end. Arthur had not managed anything more in dressing than pulling out a pair of trousers when they were unexpectedly snatched from his fingers….and Lancelot gripped at Arthur’s jaw hard enough to snap the Roman out of his reverie.
“Tearing yourself raw?” Arthur echoed Lancelot’s rather cryptic description with a questionable tone; troubled green eyes never leaving the other man’s pained expression. Why in God’s name was Lancelot so angry? The other man’s trembling - trembling?? - hand fell away from Arthur’s chin leaving the Roman completely bewildered by Lancelot’s accusing words and pained filled eye.
I could never hate you. Nor do I know your heart. Lancelot’s words had stirred at Arthur’s fortified heart. Anger began to well up within the Roman in some automatic form of defense against further pain. The fire in the hearth crackled and popped as the flames consumed the kindling, but Arthur did not hear it. The dull morning light had crept in through the window to gently illuminate this corner of the room, but Arthur took no note of it. In this room stood two men; radically different from one another….one wild and free, the other unwavering and bound to fate. Yet, the two had been fused together so profoundly by a tumultuous love, a fiery passion of both physical and emotional force beyond explanation, even bound by destiny…yet why could neither man accept what had been given? Arthur could barely breathe….in this room. Two hearts pounded loudly in the small space between them; green eyes flared with confounded anger rivaling the coppery flames in Lancelot’s one good eye. And then the other man shook his head and seemed to back down from his angry stance. And as Lancelot’s expression once again turned back to meet Arthur….the brilliant glow of the fire in the hearth glinted in the corner of Lancelot’s eye…in the hint of moisture there. Do not do this, Lancelot. Not now.
“Why do you do this? Why so angry?” Arthur said with accusing eyes as he finally reached for Lancelot, strong fingers gripping at the other man’s tunic over where his heart should be and tugging Lancelot closer. “I gave all of myself to you - to YOU. Yet you continued to construct a wall around yourself, impenetrable…,” Arthur paused to release a sigh a frustration and to release his grip on Lancelot’s tunic. His hand lingered enough to smooth over the material before falling to his side. Arthur’s head throbbed and his side ached….and his heart wrestled with an emotion that he’d thought lost. “I blame myself for not giving you what you need….” Arthur’s voice waivered as his anger turned over to pain again. “….and I cannot do this now. Neither of us is thinking clearly,” He added while lifting his hand to gently touch Lancelot’s swollen cheek. Arthur’s thumb lightly brushed over the angry skin beneath Lancelot’s injured eye and he heaved a sigh of defeat. Arthur had not the strength to argue with Lancelot this early in the morning and when faced with so much uncertainty. “And I think this child that Darya carries will be my own undoing. I do not deserve a child of my own and what father would I be? I have my duty and I will most assuredly meet my end on a battlefield…much as my father did before me,” Arthur said with a sadness in his voice that he rarely shared with anyone. He had not meant to steer the focus away from Lancelot’s anger….but there was no avoiding it….fate had dealt them both a powerful blow. Nothing would ever be the same again. And Arthur had only himself to blame. He removed his hand from Lancelot’s battered face and stepped to the bed to retrieve the riding leathers Lancelot had thrown there. Arthur then removed his linen trousers and tugged on the black leathers with his back to Lancelot. He began to tie the laces and while his fingers worked at the task, Arthur attempted to bury the pain in his chest…..I cannot do this now. |
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| golden_trillium | May 5 2010, 05:53 PM Post #74 |
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Author: LadyCastus Date: Fri Oct 10, 2008 2:22 pm Neeria Neeria sniffed and wiped her nose on the back on the dirty, large tunic she wore. The woad coughed, a deep rattle in her lungs, no doubt the result of being in the cold, dank cell too long. She looked up at Neeve again who was standing patiently waiting Neeria to get herself together. Finally, the healer approached Neeria and stooped down.
"Yes, I am called Neeria," the woad said softly as she raised her tunic. Just that small movement sent what felt like daggers stabbing into the woad. She cringed as the pain and awful smell of the wound hit her nostrils. Neeria felt what must have been pus slide slowly down her side. "I was sliced by a Roman's sword," Neeria said, "right before I killed him," she added, grimly. The cold air hit Neeria's wound which caused it to burn. Neeria's eyes widened, as Neeve dug around in her things looking for something, absorbing details about the healer in front of her. Neeria studied the other woman's face. She was quite beautiful with short, dark hair. She was much taller than Neeria with a thin frame and long slender fingers. Her hair and face were fresh and clean and she wore clean, heavy clothes and sturdy boots on her feet. "What is your name?" Neeria asked, "and where are you from?" Malcus Barbattus and Titrus Malcus and Titrus entered the stables and walked up to Jols and Darya, catching the tail end of their conversation.
Malcus walked over to the dark-haired woman. "Trouble with one of my men, my lady?" he asked. "G'morning, Jols, lady," Titrus said, bowing slightly in Darya's direction. "Jols, kind sir, I'll be needing Adolphus now. I'm sure you've taken great care of him and he's ready to go." Titrus headed down one of the long rows toward Adolphus. Malcus stayed near Jols and Darya. "You're looking radiant this morning," Malcus said to Darya and flashed a beautiful smile. "The sun pales in comparison to your beauty," he added, "I will be sure to watch over you in Arthur's absense." "Jols," he said, turning his attention to the squire, "I will take Falco out for a ride once the mission party leaves, then I will be spending the next few days here in the stables....making sure things are running smoothly. Where is the stable master? Do you know? I need to discuss a few things with him." |
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| golden_trillium | May 5 2010, 05:55 PM Post #75 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Fri Oct 10, 2008 3:13 pm Brendyn Brendyn watched the men approach, and address Darya and Jols while he and Tyranus awaited inspection in silence. He was glad that Malcus was inquiring at least as Karl had been quite rude to her...
Brendyn's sharp eyes followed Titrus down to where his horse awaited him he had, so far, marveled at the splendor of Castus's horse and his own (naturally). His gaze then turned back to Malcus, Darya and Jols, his hand resting on Tyranus's soft muzzle to quiet him. He understood that the black horse was anxious for adventure, and just needed to get out and stretch his legs a bit....
Brendyn pretended to ignore the smile that he flashed the lovely Sarmatian. Perhaps he could get some tips from the Captain on the art of flattery. At the mention of the stable master, Brendyn had now noticed that none had been present. He turned slightly to Tyranus who was now studying Malcus with big brown eyes. The horse was a good judge of character, and reached out gently nudging the Captain's jacket for sweets, and to get to know the man a bit better. Animals could sense gentleness as well as mean heartedness, and the black was sure that Malcus was the gentle sort. Brendyn stroked the animal's neck as the soft muzzle traveled to Darya then to Jols. Tyranus liked to have familiar scents to identify those he would be around, and that his master would work with. Any unfamiliar scents would be unwelcomed. The Arab mix nickered in a friendly manner as he nudged Malcus a bit more. Brendyn had trained him to make friends but still be a good battle horse, as it was useless to have a horse that bit and kicked all the time except in battle... |
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