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| November 2008 | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: May 16 2010, 03:48 AM (3,049 Views) | |
| golden_trillium | May 23 2010, 03:09 PM Post #136 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Sat Nov 15, 2008 3:39 pm Tristan
Tristan did not deign to dignify that with an answer, merely looked straight ahead with a contented half-smile on his face. He was remembering her, despite his attemtps not to- but unlike many of the other men, both knights and soldiers, Tristan didn't like to tell detailed stories of his conquests. For one thing, he was no good at it, and for the other...it just didn't sit right with him, somehow. Not that he was considering Catherine's feelings about it, exactly...after all, she had been paid well to do what she did...but...it seemed vaguely disrespectful to describe their encounter in the detail some of the men seemed to want. The scout rolled his eyes as Titrus rose on his saddle with a lewd gesture, and wondered how much of a ribbing he was going to get this time for refusing to say more...
No ribbing, apparently- saved by Arthur's order to ride ahead. Tristan turned to give Titrus a small smirk, as if to say "wouldn't you like to know", and kicked Tirgatao forward, passing up Arthur and Scipio as the beast lengthened his strides. "Aye," he acknowledged Arthur with a deep, respectful nod as he cantered past him, but the word was nearly torn away by the wind as he took the front of the column, the trees flashing by closer now and the cold air biting his cheeks. Tristan's eyes watered a little bit with the passage of the air, and he tried to brush a couple of braids forward to form a bit of a shield, but they were quickly swept back, and he had to blink and squint a little and do the best he could. Once more he felt acutely the lack of the hawk on his arm or soaring in the sky- but there was nothing to be done about that. For now, his duty was to get them to the camp. And it was not far. A short distance more down the road, Tristan turned off it, heading across the thin snow of a frozen meadow, bearing back north, slightly, and making for the nearest line of trees. There was a path here, one the Woads had made and the one he would follow, the one that he already knew by heart despite having only gone this way yesterday. The thump and crunch and jingle of the other men followed behind him, the wind whipped up ahead, and then they were passing under the trees, their black boughs creaking ominously, , though they cut some of the cold. Tristan slowed Tirgatao considerably now, going forward at a moderate but steady pace, looking all around him, his body taut with the effort of listening, watching...even smelling. There were Woads around here...there had to be! There had to be, but it was not until they got very close to the campsite, close enough that Tristan could make out the side of the nearest of the abandoned branch huts up ahead through the trees that he heard it- a low bird whistle, a signal used by the Woads, faint, probably coming from the other side of the large, meandering campsite- but there. Tristan pulled Tirgatao up and held up his hand in a 'stop' gesture, as he glanced behind him and met Arthur's eyes meaningfully. "Northeast." Tristan nearly mouthed the words, and pointed in the appropriate direction, where it seemed to him that if he strained, he could hear snatches a very faint human voice. He listened a minute more, cocking his head, feeling with his entire body... "The horse is with them," he finally concluded in a whisper, tossing Arthur and Amadeus another, rather puzzled glance. The Woads hereabouts had one horse that he knew of- captured from the Romans, he supposed, and he had sometimes seen it, always ridden by the same dark-haired man, in the distance. Merlin seemed to use it mainly for message-riding, which Tristan probably would, too, if he had an army and only one horse, but that made it a bit more puzzling that it was apparently here, as part of a group. Because it wasn't just one horse and rider- it was a larger group, Tristan was sure of that. |
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| golden_trillium | May 23 2010, 03:10 PM Post #137 |
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Author: Starbelle Date: Sat Nov 15, 2008 6:47 pm Jols
"She sounds like someone very, very special, my friend. It's wonderful when someone like that comes along. Especially when they believe in you, that's the most important quality a woman can have." Jols said glancing over at Brendyn after asking him his question. "Hmm... I've never thought about it before or really put it into words, but for me, I think that a playful spirit and a childlike nature about things is good, and a willingness to tease and be teased. A girl who can take care of herself, but yet know when its ok to fall knowing that she's got a safe place to land." The squire paused slightly looking inward and grasping for words that didn't come easily to him. "Someone who has both an inner and an outer beauty and also feels comfortable in her own skin. That would attract me to a woman." Jols said as he looked over at Brendyn. |
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| golden_trillium | May 23 2010, 03:12 PM Post #138 |
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Author: LadyCastus Date: Sat Nov 15, 2008 8:43 pm Neeria Neeria suddenly felt a bit claustrophobic and uneasy. She was convincing herself that Neeve was conspiring with Vanora to kill her.
After her lecture, Neeria's eyes narrowed at the tall dark-haired woman. "I am not your dog, lady, nor can you threaten me with one - the dark knight. I know exactly what Artorius commanded and I have not given you trouble yet you continue to treat me ill. You said you wanted to kill me, that is against Arthur's order! I will follow you, but know this, if you try to harm me, lady, I will defend myself!" Neeria sneezed and dug in her head again. She looked at Vanora and gave her a once over. "Thank you for your offer of kindness....Vanora? I mean you no harm," she said, glancing back at Neeve, "no matter what she says. I have no weapon and no reason to cause you trouble." Looking back at Vanora, Neeria continued, "I will gladly follow you to your home without incident." Neeria looked back at Neeve and lowered her voice. Her tone was laced with venom. "Do not give cause for people to fear me, healer. I will tell you for the last time, I mean these people no harm." |
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| golden_trillium | May 23 2010, 03:14 PM Post #139 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Sat Nov 15, 2008 9:59 pm Vanora
Vanora stood with her arms folded, and her shawl about her shoulders feeling very generous at this point. She had thought to pass them down to her daughters, but there was always one or two dresses that she didn't want, and just felt like giving it to someone who could. She recalled the generosity of some folks at the fort who had given she, Bors, and the children clothes. Neeria looked as though she had not had a decent set of clothing for quite some time. The red head did raise and eyebrow at Neeria's accusation though, and could not help but wonder what it was that she was missing... Neeve's reaction was one of irritation, or at least that was how Vanora had always seen that reaction: Staring at the ceiling and taking a deep breath. It took a lot to get Neeve upset, and Vanora had that feeling that Neeria was treading that fine line.... Vanora was not far from the truth when Neeve turned to face Neeria...
If that was not enlightenment, Vanora did not know what was. Reasons? What the Commander told you? Dungeons? The first Knight and his orders?... Vanora just stood there looking from one woman to the other, but kept quite. She had learned that there were certain things one just did not barge in on, and if Neeve wanted her to know more then... well she had just gotten part of the story just now. Neeve's gaze turned back to Vanora who met those ice blue eyes...
Vanora did not know who this Neeria was, but she was a true spitfire in every sense of the word: A spitfire that desperately needed a bath and clean clothes. The way the young woman looked at her, it was as though trying to decide whether or not to trust her. Probably a good thing Neeve was coming along as Vanora, though she had been kind to Neeria, was not at all sure she could trust the young woman...
"Well, now that that is all settled, shall we get going before it gets too late?" Vanora walked past them, and headed for the door leaving instructions with one of the wenches. She looked back over her shoulder as she reached the door and held it open for the other two. Vanora had seen Mari working hard on the drawing for Linnette and did not want to bother them. Adian He arrived back at the damaged area of the infirmary, and, taking off his cloak and setting it on the lumber cart, Adian chose a carving tool and began to work the joints of tow pieces of wood until they fit well enough to make a corner. Neeria... Interesting name... he thought as he did the same to make the other two joints to make a new window frame. He did not have many friends at the fort except the other carpenters, and to make a new one was always welcomed. Adian did try to think over why the dark curly haired fellow was so intent on harassing this wild, pretty woman as was Neeve. He had met Neeve twice... maybe more, and had found her to be very calm, and never mad. The dark haired one and Neeve were both hounding the hungry, barely clothed woman like she was a criminal or something... Odd to say the least... Adian hammered the window frame in place, then stood back to look at his work. He hoped he'd see her again, so that they could talk... or go for a nice walk. He reminded himself that he'd have to go to set up Thorn's grave this night as well... |
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| golden_trillium | May 23 2010, 03:16 PM Post #140 |
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Author: Darya Date: Sun Nov 16, 2008 4:12 am Neeve
Neeve had to bite the inside of her cheeks until it really hurt to maintain her natural coolness. She was no damn baby-sitter…for a reason. And even though she didn’t want to, the healer silently cursed Arthur for having done this to her. Things would have been so much easier if he had just let Neeria in the dungeons. No trouble, no embarrassing unnerving arguments in public…and no more insults for her or Lancelot. Did Neeria truly expect them to pamper her when her attempt to kill Arthur and her people attacking the Fort was only a very few days ago? How naïve was that?! “You…are giving me trouble right now…”, the raven-haired woman then replied sharply, “…and forgive us for not treating you like a best friend. Maybe some Roman soldiers as guards would do better. I shall ask them if you like…” Neeve couldn’t help the sarcasm once more returning to her voice. If Derfel wouldn’t show up soon, this would be a very long day. “You are still no guest of honour here, Neeria, and your people have harmed those here at Badon enough in the last days…don’t forget that.”, she added in a voice that left no space for arguing.
The healer snorted quietly at Neeria’s words to Vanora but then furrowed her brow in silent communication with the redhead. The fact that she knew the tavern manager for a very long time now was certainly an advantage while they were dealing with the Woad. Neeve was confident that Bors' woman would trust her word more than Neeria’s when it came to it. No matter what the Woad said. Neeve had no intention to kill Neeria…but it would certainly do no harm to keep the Woad in the dark about this. This fear would hopefully restrain her from going any further than she already had. Arthur’s orders had been food, clothes and bath. And then what? What about the night for example? The healer sighed and briefly shook her head before pushing herself away from the bar to follow Vanora. And if Neeria stuck to her word and knew what was good for her, she would do so as well… |
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| golden_trillium | May 23 2010, 03:23 PM Post #141 |
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Author: Pinkie Date: Sun Nov 16, 2008 2:02 pm Smith
Smith was a little stymied by Ceinwyn's disregard of him. He looked at her, trying a moment to see through the grime and grease and madness to the woman beyond - but she would not even meet his eyes. With a slight tinge of worry in his gut, he wondered if she realised that he was there at all. It was hardly vanity - but it was rare that the woad women ignored him - it was simply that he rode a horse when none others did. It tended to draw a wary eye if not an appreciative one. That Ceinwyn completely disregarded him made the young male frown - and oh it was a handsome gesture. But he gave her up for the madness and looked to Guinevere.
"Hrmph." Smith agreed with the woman's comments of course. Whilst he was a rather laid-back man, Smith was very much in favour of the woad cause. So he believed that it would do them no harm in adopting some of the more adimrable Roman traits and tactics, it was all for the benefit of his people in the end. And whilst he had no personal vendetta against the Romans, it did not make his loyalty or vehemence any less than any other Woads. His respect was unwavering and undeniable. His strength of character and belief in purpose was plain and acted upon. The young male was more than amused when Guinevere turned around sharply to look at him in surprise as he asked of Merlin and Juna. He almost laughed - but settled, instead, for allowing his merriment to shine in his dark eyes. His lips pursed slightly in amusement as he looked beyond Guinevere's amused chagrin at his audacity and jumping of topics.
The woad clicked his tongue and rolled one large shoulder at her question non-committally. His look was entirely too casual to be natural, his dark eyes far too bright and vibrant to be disinterested. He had a knack of looking both childish and rogueishly masculine all at the same time - a skill he employed now as he let his gaze drift back down to the impressive smirk of Guinevere.
Smith clutched a hand to his chest as if struck by an arrow at her veiled threat to Juna should she prove false. He feigned a tilt to the right and then righted himself, giving Guinevere a cheeky grin as he did so. He kept his hand lifted to his collarbone however, feeling the ache become greater the longer he sat still - and yet to move? It was an agony. So he suffered the simple ache and prayed for a little peace soon that he might rest it. It did not lessen the mischievious light to his dark eyes. Something in the nature surrounding them changed. Smith could not name what it was - nor could he say that it had happened right now or if he had just been ignorant of it up until that moment. But his brow furrowed quite suddenly and he looked off into the trees to their right. Guinevere's questions slid against his serious facade and he glanced down at her distractedly, the firm line of his jaw set hard. "Merlin? I wouldn't know. I was sent back to the village early - I just saw what you saw of him but moments ago. Did you ... " he was about to ask her if she had heard something strange, or rather... it was the absence of sound up ahead that was concerning Smith. His question was interupted by the whistle from behind. It sounded like a bird but Smith knew better - he turned to look over his shoulder and gave a hissed gasp of air, forgetting his hurt collarbone. Kayley's face was concerned for him but he simply turned to look ahead again and then tugged the reins of the horse, turning Scáth back towards the others. He waited a moment, allowing Guinevere and indeed Ceinwyn, to go on ahead and then walked Scáth slowly up behind them. The horse was restless, shifting sideways and Smith frowned once more. He let the horse turn sideways to the group and looked to the side slowly, mindful of his injury. The long tendons in his neck were strained against his sun-darkened skin and when he looked back at the others he looked pensive, certain something was out there but only because the forest had changed around them with a barely perceptible hush.
Smith's chest expanded as he took a breath and held it. His clenched jaws gave a noisy click and he flexed his fingers about the reins. He looked at hte people there - one by one, his gaze falling finally on Guinevere once more. "He's right. There's..." he stopped, frowning. All woads were one with nature, all woads were at peace with nature - but Smith was something else entirely. It was like an unspeakable bond between him and the creatures of nature, as if he could sense the tension in the birds, the flightish nature of the rabbits and deer. He was never comfortable speaking of his heightened affinity with the beasts of the woods, a magic best left to the ancient people of this land - but he could not deny what he felt. There was also the possibility that what disturbed the creatures was a predator - a fox, or a wolf and not a human at all. Even Scáth was flaring his nostrils violently at this delay when something lurked out there. Licking his lips, the young man raked a hand back through his brown hair and blew out an exasperated breath. He did not look at the other woads as he peered back up the path they had been on. "Something's disturbed them." he murmured and felt Kayley's arm about his middle tighten in silent understanding of his conflict. He glanced back down at the others, looking to Rosita, to Nolan and Ceinwyn before meeting Guinevere's penetrating gaze once more. Mari
Mari felt a lump in her throat form at the saddened way Linnette whispered the name of her husband. She put the rim of the cup to her lips and drank of it softly at first, then a little heavier when she got the sweet, fruity taste of it on her palate. She gave an appreciative hum as she frowned down at teh drink, taking another testing sip. Oh that was very nice indeed! She glanced sheepishly towards Linnette and saw the woman distant in her thoughts. Mari left her to it, wishing she could do something, anything to make this less hurtful for Linnette. Smething besides the portrait of course...
The young woman was a bit puzzled at first. She had almost forgotten teh bedraggled bandage that wrapped about her left hand. She looked down at her right hand then her gaze swept to her left with a tsk of recognition. She smiled sheepishly and watched with a fascinated, rivetted eye as Linnette dished up their meal. She was ravenous - and was unsure if she could be polite enough to wait until Linnette had dished up her own before tucking in. Self-consciously she pulled her wounded hand down into her lap and shrugged her shoulders up to her ears, looking over at the auburn-haired woman with sweet innocence. "I picked up a tray of hot coals." she admitted then shifted on her seat, licking her lips as the food was placed in front of her - but she clasped her left hand in her right carefully, waiting politely, - "It was when the woads attacked. I was in our little cottage and they came in so I threw the hot coals at them. It hurt but it meant that we could flee at least." Mari said, able to speak calmly of the situation that had been so terrifying for her at the time because. .. "Milan took us to safety then." the girl said wistfully, reaching out to take a piece of bread, breaking a chunk of it and taking a nibble. Her cheeks reddened just a little at the impolite manner that she acted but she was just so hungry! "What about your hand... ? " Mari asked around a mouthful of bread, wide eyes peering up at Linnette as she awaited an answer. Galahad Galahad pulled the laces free of his boot and flung it onto the ground. The thick socks that he wore were a bit damp from the soaking he had gotten yesterday care of Neeve, he recalled with a grumpy scowl, and he tugged that off too. He draped it over the stall wall behind him, peering discontentedly at his red toe, wondering if it was going to turn purple, blue then black... He was almost ignoring the child he had asked a question of as he poutishly assessed his damage.
The young knight was looking at her quite directly as she talked... and talked adn then talked some more. His pout disappeared and his fingers stalled their caressing of his wounded toe as she continued - and he wondered if she might take a breath. Then he wondered if she would turn purple then blue if she did not stop soon. He gathered from her explanation that she had moved his stuff on him but when she stopped talking he was still staring at her in mild bewilderment. Galahad snapped out of it and looked down at his toe, suddenly aware that he had not been surly or angry for a whole two minutes just then. He tsked at his own self-depracation and leaned his shoudlers back against the wall behind him, leaving his foot resting up on his opposite knee, his long leg bent making him look ungainly and gangly with his slight frame and mop of dark, curly hair. Galahad sighed and shut his eyes, bopping his head agains the wall once. "Don't touch my stuff, girl. I'm Sarmatian - I look after my own horse. I shovel her shit and fill her oats bucket and that cabinet is for the Romans. Not the Sarmatians." he added wearily, his tone suggesting the obvious - that the Sarmatians were considered less than the Romans. Displeasure colored Galahad's tone but all the fight had gone out of him, his shoudlers sagged and his head tipped to one side, bleary, sleepy blue eyes looking over at the young girl. "You know what that means dont you? To be Sarmatian?" he asked her, knowing that she must be new if she had put his stuff in with the Romans stuff. None of teh stable-hands went near the Sarmatian horses, not if they knew what was good for them. Oh if a horse's stall looked in dire need of attention, or a water bucket was empty it was their duty to step in - but Galahad's beast had not been in such need. Catherine
His honesty was touching. And there was no amount of times a woman could be called beautiful and not have it please her immensely. Catherine beamed at this praise and felt her cheeks blush - yes, even a whore might blush! They dashed forward like giddy teenagers. Catherine's blonde hair whipped back from her face as they hurried to the barracks. Part of them had been ruined in the woad attack but the two soon-to-be-lovers ignored that,heading straight for the Captain's quarters. A man stood guard... they came to a standstill and Catherine pursed her lips, shyly standing in behind Malcus' back as he addressed the young male. She peeked over his shoulder and winked at the shy boy before ducking back down, pressing herself to the Captain's back as she waited...
At the door she was whirled around in a swirl of laughter and frenzied passion as the man leaned down to kiss her thoroughly. Catherine lifted a hand to the nape of his neck, her willowy body swaying backwards against the door and then forward, pressing against him as much as she could. The door gave way behind her and Catherine stifled another giggle as they backed into the room. She could feel the bitter cold of his skin against her own, but it was a beautifully sharp contrast to the burning, feverish heat stirring in the pit of her stomach, ready to be unleashed upon him at his behest. His murmured words were met with yet another delighted trill of amusement from the whore. She tipped her head back, allowing Malcus ample access to her neck as he unclasped her cloak. She reached a cold, eager hand out and pulled his tunic up from the cinched encirclment of his belt, not even bothering with his cloak, wanting to feel rough masculinity and now. "Mmm -- fire.." she purred, placing her feet purposely spread - one against the outisde of his foot, the other againts the inside of his other foot - so that one of her legs was pressed in between his, and one of his between hers. She lowered her hips a moment, pressing her groin against his thigh and looked up at him in mute adoration and arousement - "Have I permission to undress the brute?" she asked, placing her fingers down between his belt and tunic and pulling at it hard, not unbuckling until she was given permission but being brazenly wanton about wanting to unbuckle him! Amadeus
Amadeus simply nodded in amused admiration for the man that seemed to be a mystery to his own son. Of course Arthur would have heard the tales too -but he still seemed to be quite... humbled that someone would speak to him of the great deeds of his father. The young Optio considered this as he continued speaking of Uther - he considered that this may be a chink in Arthur's armour. Another one - of course. His whore, Darya, and his pet pooch Lancelot were the other two. But this conversation of his father was showing another side of the Commander to Amadeus. Or perhaps it was simply being able to talk to the man as a man... instead of it being business. Amadeus made a point to himself to get Arthur speaking of frivolous matters again and vet his reactions.
Hate... Now there was a strange word to come from a man who looked so calm, so collected. From a man who showed such ridiculous mercies against these people that he presumably 'hated'. Amadeus almost broached that dichotomy with the Commander but instead he decided to keep hush. To ponder up that thought at another stage for himself instead of playing all his cards at once. Perhaps he might use those words against Arthur should he show weakness in the face of the woads...? And then the man continued, his green eyes intense and almost amused as he spoke to Amadeus in a cryptic tongue of nothing very much at all. He was not going to give credence nor discredit to the rumours then? The smile that the Commander turned to Amadeus was altogether charming. It demanded loyalty and respect and for a moment the Optio found himsself merely smiling back at Arthur, genuinely vying for his approval and good regard before he could catch himself. The smile faded and with it it's spell. Amadeus gave an abashed snort and looked away, gritting his teeth silently for having being so wrapped up in the mystique of the Castus' blood so blatantly.
The Optio took a moment before realising that he had been marked down in that instance. He lifted his curious grey eyes to the scout as he rode off and then to Arthur, silently questionning the man's decision to allow the Sarmatian to lead the way instead of his Optio. And he felt more a fool now for having been swayed for a brief moment by Arthur's charisma. Amadeus looked away casually,grey eyes pinned forward as he road on beside Arthur. He let his simmering resentment brew but finally resolved thathe would rather it was someone with a pronounced skill like Tristan's that had been ordered ahead of him rather than some unmannered lout like Lancelot.
"Horse? Woads?" Amadeus asked in puzzlement, following Arthur's lead and looking to him in stark confusion over this revelation. |
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| golden_trillium | May 23 2010, 03:25 PM Post #142 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Sun Nov 16, 2008 2:12 pm Linnette
"Oh, mine?" Linnette looked down ruefully at her own bandaged left hand and gave a rather sheepish shrug as she swallowed her current mouthful of meat. She could hardly blame Mari for asking, but it was still a story she didn't really care to tell, despite how open she had been with Mari since first speaking to her...what, an hour ago? Only Linnesse and Drake knew the full story of how she had foolishly broken her own hand, and Linnette wanted to keep it that way. She considered it an embarrassing tale- but even so, Mari's innocence invited more openness than Linnette was prepared to give to almost anyone else- almost. "I..." Linnette interrupted herself with a quick sip of wine. "I did something silly. It was my own fault." Linnette dropped her gaze to her lap glumly and abashedly, but the sudden memory inserting itself vividly into her mind was of Drake bandaging her hand after, and how gentle he had been, dripping the water over it, folding the bandage across...her heart lumped up with a sense of generalized loss, all sadnesses mulling themselves together, but this time, a wild urge to get up, go find Drake, and sit him down and care for his own hand as tenderly as he had cared for hers was enough to make her feet twitch under the table; she suddenly felt very, very lonely, Mari's cheerful company notwithstanding. "Nothing quite as heroic as yours," Linnette heard herself saying, with a rather forced smile as she looked up at Mari again. "It sounds like you were very brave," she added, meaning that sincerely, now, though she still felt...empty, detached from herself. Mari's company was genial, comfortable- but it wasn't what she really craved. Linnette was distracted from her downcast ponderings, though, by a sudden outburst of voices- female voices- over by the bar. The slovenly woman Linnette had noticed earlier seemed to be having a vociferous disagreement with both Vanora and Neeve, and though she couldn't really hear all that was said, Linnette paused in her eating and listened anyway, cocking her head with interest. Neeve, she saw, dealt with the woman- who was maybe simple, or suffered some other defect?- firmly, matter-of-factly, and, Linnette thought, not unkindly, and Linnette found herself reaffirming in her mind that yes, maybe Neeve was the kind of woman Drake would like. Well, once her hair was grown out. But yes- his kind of woman, maybe. And then Drake would smile, and laugh, and not be so sad and stern all the time. He wouldn't feel empty like she did. He would be happy. "Hmm." Linnette turned back to Mari with a soft, reflective noise in her throat as the trio, their disagreement apparently settled, began to head for the door of the tavern. Linnette wanted, suddenly, to tell Mari of her plan, to ask her what she thought of it- but she didn't think that Mari would be exactly a source of advice in these matters, and she wasn't at all sure how to bring it up. She just knew that...she wanted to talk about it, let some of it out. "What did you think of that woman's hair?" she blurted out suddenly, the only segue into the topic that she could possibly think of that didn't give too much away. |
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| golden_trillium | May 23 2010, 03:27 PM Post #143 |
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Author: TwistOfShadows Date: Sun Nov 16, 2008 2:39 pm Guinevere and Ceinwyn Guinevere trusted Smith. Loyalty was an ambiguous notion in their current climates, but she knew he would not play foul. She could sense it, and see it in the way he was constantly aware of their surroundings. The Woad saw Smith’s gaze linger on Ceinwyn, and she recognised the lack of understanding in his eyes. For the woman. It was true, Ceinwyn had been impressive once upon a time, but now she was blinded by hatred and bloodlust. It would be a tough attitude to reform, but Guinevere would try. She would convince the woman to bathe...at a more appropriate time. For now, Ceinwyn fitted the image of a savage, and it could do no harm for the enemy’s eyes. Ceinwyn was living proof of those that hated Rome, of those that would see the Empire crushed into the ground. Guinevere looked to the road ahead, her eyes dark infiltrating the leaves. She despised Rome for it’s prettiness, it’s empty attempts at being a ‘better land, a better place.’ Briton was perfect without it, Briton was true and fertile. If Rome had her way, the grass and soil would burn and drown in rivers of innocent blood. And the gods would abandon them all...for eternity. The Woads would not see that happen, however prettily the Roman Commanders spoke...and however bloodthirsty their soldiers behaved. Guinevere remembered Lancelot, she remembered Arthur...could she truly fault them as people? Yes, she must. They were one with Rome, despite their empty words...and promises... Smith met her eyes, and Guinevere continued to smirk up at him. He was a handsome man, that could not be denied. His dark and rugged hair allowed him an enigmatic presence that was difficult to interpret...and Guinevere could have almost taken an interest. Almost. Now was not the time for attraction, and they had known eachother far too long. Attraction, attachment, it was all weakness in such times of war. It clouded rationality, and Guinevere had seen too many female Woads grow stupid in his presence. It was amusing to watch. She did not deny it. When he feigned his cheeky fall, Guinevere shook her head. He had an interesting sense of humour, and it was a breath of fresh air. It lifted the strained tensions. Ceinwyn moved alongside the party, listening in silence to the spoken words. She tilted her head forwards, and allowed her dark red hair to cascade thicker around her face. Her green eyes sparkled vibrantly, and she looked into the side undergrowth. She was ever aware of her surroundings...but she could not help linger on the conversations around her. She heard Smith talking, and she found it hard not to look at any of them. How could they speak so cheerfully? How could they converse so light-heartedly? Smith had a pretty way with words, but it was irritating, annoying. The woman parted her lips, and breathed a quiet sigh. She felt tired, weary, and she glanced downwards at her bare calves. There were scratches, lots, and the woman wrinkled her nose. Yes, it was penance...but now she’d seen them? She was ever aware of the stinging... Guinevere looked to Smith, and saw a change in the man’s expression. There was no cheek, no humour. He glanced off into the trees, and Guinevere glanced the other way, sharply, checking all sides. There was nothing visible, but she was no scout. She was a warrior. The woman was adept at moving in silence through the trees, not necessarily on foot. He turned back to look at her, but he was distracted...
“Where?” Guinevere spun quickly on her heel, turning to Nolan and Smith. Her dark eyes were suddenly intense, and the British breezes stirred the loose curls in her plait, tickling them over her blue shoulders. The woman looked up into the sky, and then to the road ahead. Her senses were good, but they were not as great as Smith’s, not as refined for nature’s voices. She trusted his judgement. Looking at Nolan, she crouched down to the ground and pulled a small dagger from her boot. It fitted easily into her small hand, and she spoke again, standing up straighter. “Nolan, go ahead. There are not enough of us to make a scaled attack, so be restrained...it might be nothing at all.” Guinevere looked at Smith, nodding. She trusted his instincts, but there were not enough of them to fully defend themselves...and chances were, if Arthur had decided to send men back to the camp, there would be more than before. The Optio had made a poor attempt; it would have dented Rome’s pride... “Would they be stupid enough to approach after such a disastrous meeting? They do not learn.” Ceinwyn spoke from the side, and her green eyes sparkled vehemently. Her lips were tight, and she looked to Guinevere for orders. There was something distant in her gaze, and she could not deny the feeling in the pit of her stomach. It was not fear, no, she was beyond that. Ceinwyn would have welcomed death...but should Lancelot be there? Oh, how she would love to kill the Sarmatian! The one who reduced her in the eyes of her kindred. Ceinwyn braved a glance at Smith, and she noted his dark hair, the way it fell ruggedly around his face. He was not so threatening, but he was dark. She had fought alongside him in the past...but never shared conversation with the man. She was a driven woman, passionate...and she did not wish to admit it, but men were something far beyond her sphere of understanding. She hated Rome. That was all she knew. “They are unpredictable, and Arthur is no fool. I should not underestimate an enemy that believes he fights for the greater good. They are always harder to predict.” Guinevere spoke darkly, and began walking ahead. She took to the shady part of the path, fully prepared to go ahead with Nolan and seek the disturbances...was it nothing? No, Smith was good. He knew their surroundings. |
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| golden_trillium | May 23 2010, 03:28 PM Post #144 |
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Author: Starbelle Date: Sun Nov 16, 2008 3:27 pm Gawain
"He is.. quite.. a beauty..You're right." Gawain replied to her as he lost track of the conversation as well as all train of thought became derailed through the contact of her soft and tiny hands as they came in contact with the skin of his face and beard and the little kisses that she'd already bestowed on his lips and chin. As the other one rested on his tunic, Gawain could easily feel the heat of her hand seeping through the fabric to the skin of his chest underneath the material. She made him feel warm and feverish eventhough the temperature of the stable wasn't hot or warm at all. This lady is very good at her skills. I'm very surprised that I've been able to keep up a conversation with her this long. He thought as he tried to keep his wits somewhat about him with her as close as she was to him. "As you wish..but if I do, you owe me your name, Lady mine." He said raising an eyebrow meaning what he said to her then lowering his head down to hers, he kissed her deeply as he placed one big hand into her hair, weaving the loose strands through and around his fingers before giving into her demand. Wow! She tastes so sweet. I want more than just this taste of her. Was Gawain's second thought as he slightly deepened his kiss a bit more. Unconsciously, he realeased a soft moan that could almost be described as a whimper as he continued kissing her. Using his other hand pulled her body a bit closer to him as his eyes fell shut of their own accord under her spell. |
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| golden_trillium | May 23 2010, 03:29 PM Post #145 |
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Author: Unicorn Date: Sun Nov 16, 2008 4:15 pm Dagonet Once they entered the baths Dagonet felt exhausted... diminished. His heart beated with unspoken discomfort. Saoirse's face was worried... Her heart probably beated the same rythm like his own. Discomfort... sorrow.. worry.... pain. Why was it so hard? Why everything had to be so hard and heartbreaking? Why? To his surprise, his lover came closer and slid in front of him, puting her head upon his chest, her arms around him. And without any thinking Dagonet's arms went around her, keeping her close. Only then he realised it was the first time they was alone... For the first time after the mission they were together completely only with themselfs. Suddenly his world collapsed... The rock crushing his chest, his heart and mind fell. He kept Saoirse close, one of his hand upon her head, gently. Knight leaned slightly and his cheek rested upon top of her head. Closing his eyes Dagonet allowed himself a slight sigh of reliefe and small happiness over their moment.
Dagonet almost smiled at the sound of her voice. They both felt the effect of cut air.... of not being able to stay alone. Just to be together. Sarmatian forgott about his pain in this moment. He forgott everything.... The crushing and hurtful reality was left behind for this moment. His heart beated fast, but in somekind of peacefull way.
The tall man frowned in worry and compassion at those words. He took another moment of silence for himself, thinking about what to say about this. It was surprising.. He didn't know she felt like that! She felt guilty that she was happy in stead of Linnette... over that he had returned and Gedeon not. He felt guilty himself that it was him not Gedeon to return to his life. He felt guilty that he was old already and Gedeon had whole life before him... Gently Dagonet placed his palms upon her cheeks and lifted her head for her to look at him. "Saoirse..." he murmured soothing. "I didn't know...." he admitted silently and looked down. "I feel guilty for being alive in stead of...." tears apperaed in his eyes... at the mere thought of his dead sons' name. "Love... You shouldn't.... you shouldn't feel bad over this... It's not your fault. You have no influance.... I am here and he is.. not" He caught her thighter and tried to smile a little just for her, when he finally came to conclusion, which came to him after so many hours of thightened chest and heart, hours of doubt and guilty, dreams of nightmares, hours of pain... and agony over his lost son. Conclusion that had to be said. "I love you... I will grieve my son but I won't grieve for me being alive... " |
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| golden_trillium | May 23 2010, 03:30 PM Post #146 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Sun Nov 16, 2008 4:40 pm Brendyn
Brendyn returned the Squire's glance and listened to the man's response. "Sounds like you have one in mind, Jols... " His smile disappeared though as he realized that it was time to get back down to business, his eyes catching sight of the Scout riding ahead of the group as they entered the forest. It was an archaic forest to be sure... thick with brush and bracken as well a very old trees. Though magnificent in it's noble status, the forest hid danger by the way the Scout approached it. Brendyn slowed Tyranus down a bit as the group neared the camp site, and he looked over at Jols, then at the others in the group, and finally turning his attention back to his surroundings. From what he knew of the woads, they could hide anywhere, and that thought alone kept him alert. Tyranus's ears perked forward as if listening as well and pawed the earth lightly while Brendyn calmed him with a gentle pat on the neck. He did not want to say anything to Jols for fear that it would break their cover... He saw that the Scout had reported to Arthur in a whisper, so Brendyn could not have been sure what was said, so he was curious, and he waited next to Jols. His eyes went to the trees with caution in case one should jump down and attack, or come from behind a bush. His hand continued to brush his horse's neck so that he would not snort or whinny out of nervousness... |
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| golden_trillium | May 23 2010, 03:31 PM Post #147 |
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Author: Elessars Girl Date: Sun Nov 16, 2008 5:28 pm Arthur A moment of perhaps understanding had passed between Arthur and Amadeus. Or so it had been Arthur’s interpretation of the briefly shared smile between them. Perhaps things would be better with this ‘Optio’ then they had been with Scipio’s predecessor. Tristan – of course – followed Arthur’s command without hesitation and rode on ahead. The Commander’s piercing green eyes followed after his scout as if silently watching over him. My men. Arthur was prepared for anything; the fingers still resting on the hilt of his sword flexed at the ready should anyone threaten the men in his charge. A particularly strong gust of wind carried the long crimson cloak Arthur wore like a standard on the breeze. …an easy mark for the enemy as Lancelot would always say. Yet, Arthur had no fear of the enemy’s spear or axe and wore the dress of a Roman officer and Ala Commander with pride – as his father had before him. Arthur, with Amadeus close at his side, followed after Tristan as the scout led the small party from the roadway onto a small path close along the tree line. The fresh and pristinely white snow made an odd crunching sound beneath Casti’s hooves with each step the stallion took in trailing after Tristan’s mount. The Commander deeply inhaled – the scent of fresh pine and clean crisp air filled his senses. Arthur made no further ‘pleasantries’ with his Optio…his focus was completely and intensely on their surroundings now that they were no longer on the open road. Not even the steady dull ache beneath his armour could distract Arthur from this mission….not even the image of those dark as pitch eyes that had caused the ache would dissuade the Roman from the task at hand. Also, Arthur’s stitched up wound had remained silent for a time now – thankfully so. The wintry trees closed in around them and up ahead, Arthur caught sight of a simple wooden structure and quickly concluded that they must be approaching the camp. And then Tristan visibly slowed with his hand lifted to indicate that Arthur too should halt. The Commander pulled up on Casti’s reins and met Tristan’s unreadable eyes….
Arthur gave a brief nod in acknowledgement of Tristan’s report. A horse among them was of particular interest though. Possibly carrying supplies? The Commander’s mouth formed a contemplative shape as Amadeus repeated half of what the scout had only just said. Green eyes momentarily ticked to the inquisitive grey eyes of the Optio.
“Are they close? How many are their numbers?” Arthur asked in a hushed tone to Tristan. His gaze again briefly flickered to Scipio before continuing, acknowledging his Optio with respect to Scipio’s rank. “Men, be on your guard…remain in tight formation,” Arthur said as he turned to address the men accompanying him; voice still fairly low as to not be overheard by those possibly watching the group. Oh Arthur had no doubt that Merlin’s people knew that they were out here by now. But he prayed that they would not be faced with an attack. Peace was the objective here. Peace. “We will continue on along the path,” Arthur once again turned his focus on Tristan. He could only assume the camp deserted now….or they would not have been able to ride in this close without confrontation. Merlin had moved on….as Neeria had suggested. “It seems that Neeria had been of some use after all,” Arthur added while turning his attention to the path ahead. The Woad Malcus had brought back to Badon had provided Arthur with directions to Merlin’s village in exchange for her freedom….and so it seems the information might actually lead Arthur to Merlin after all. |
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| golden_trillium | May 23 2010, 03:34 PM Post #148 |
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Author: LadyCastus Date: Sun Nov 16, 2008 7:46 pm Titrus Titrus watched as Tristan took the lead up front. He gripped Adolphus' reins tighter and straightened in his saddle. As they entered the first copse of trees, Tristan put a hand and everyone stopped.
Titrus looked in the direction Tristan spoke and strained his ears. He didn't hear a thing. How did Tristan know these things? The lieutenant gave a quick glance at Quintus then eased up the line so that he was directly behind Arthur and Amadeus.
As the group advanced, Adolphus was spooked suddenly. The big horse snorted and whinnied and shook his massive head from side to side. Titrus squeezed his thighs and rubbed the horse's neck to calm him. The stallion settled as Titrus regained control. The party moved on, Titrus looking and watching as they made their way. Rosita and Nolan Before Guinevere could answer him, Nolan saw the tenseness cross Smith's face. The scout's whole body posture shifted. Nolan turned and looked around the surrounding area. Something shifted, Nolan noticed it too. They all did. Rosita looked up to Smith, her eyes widening, her ears straining.
Rosita squatted to the ground and looked behind them. Nolan closed his eyes and sensed the air.
At that moment, Nolan heard the distinct sound of a horse whinny. He opened his eyes. "They are here!" he hissed.
"Go with Smith and Kayley," Nolan told Rosita as he moved up with Guinevere as she headed down the path, "form the perimeter and close them in. We'll let you know how many once we actually see them. If there are too many, take to the trees!" "Accursed Romans!" Nolan spat. "Our dead brethen's bodies are even cold yet and they've come back here? If it's more blood they seek, it shall be their own!" |
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| golden_trillium | May 23 2010, 03:35 PM Post #149 |
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Author: Lancelot Date: Sun Nov 16, 2008 7:57 pm Lancelot Lancelot felt a surge of triumph when he noted the blush that stained the stable-woman's cheeks. It was gratifying to be reminded he hadn't lost his charm - despite looking like a bedraggled, wet, dirty, smelly farm dog.
His lips curved gracefully in a smile, even as one part of his focus was caught on Darya and her reactions to his 'act.' Fuck Arthur. Lancelot could still light up a room, no matter who truly knew or loved him. He nodded at the girl, opening his mouth to speak again, when she reached out and - weirdly - touched the hand that rested on his hip. His dry lips snapped shut over his teeth; how did one respond to such a strange gesture? He cocked his head, his brows drawing together, and he moved the hand she'd touched to the hilt of his sheathed sword, the smile he'd started to show spreading wider. It did not come close to reaching his eyes; he ignored that - he knew it, but he didn't care how real he looked to a girl he hardly knew nor cared much to get to know.
Ah, there's my magic again.
....and perhaps I spoke too soon. "Lady," Lancelot spoke to Tatiana first, brushing aside the sudden stab of anger at his kinswoman, even though he knew she was just reading his falseness and calling him out on it. "I am as real as the blush on your fair skin. But alas, I do have a duty, and as I am only Arthur's man," he started briefly at his choice of words, "I must needs take care of it. A good day to you. I'm sure I will see you again," he stepped forward, stink and all, and picking up her hand, planted his cracked lips upon the back of it. He lingered a bit too long - and then looked up at her through his lashes as he straightened. "Darya," he finally acknowledged his kin - his ... he couldn't come up with a good descriptor for what she really was to him. They had been close once. He had been drunk once, too, and had almost done something he'd regretted with her. And then Arthur had found them, and had pushed Lancelot out of his life yet another time. No matter what Lancelot had or had not done with Darya. He turned to her, and shut out Tatiana for a moment. "I am to Derfel - Arthur's orders. But I shall be about later - and I am to watch over you, as well. Rest assured, I will not be brushed aside so easily in this duty," his lips twisted wryly. He would not dare say anything to her in regards to the other thing Arthur had confessed to him - not yet. That was powerful knowledge that Lancelot might be able to use - later. Not that he wanted to hurt his fellow Sarmatian; far from it. And yet...she, and he, and Arthur were three sides of a coin that should only have two. And Lancelot, despite his propensity for emotions and trouble and violence, did not like to lose. "I shall keep my eye - bad one included - out for you, hm?" He stared down into her heart shaped face, and in looking into her eyes....the mother of Arthur's child. "Good day to you," he stepped back finally, breaking the odd connection he always felt when she was around, no matter her primary relationship - damn you, Castus - or not. "And I apologize for my 'realness,'" he added, his traditional smirk crossing his bruised face like lightning. Rubbing his arms once more, he tilted his head toward the both of them. "I am Arthur while he is away on his fool's errand. Do not hesitate to ask for me should you need anything...either of you." |
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| golden_trillium | May 23 2010, 03:36 PM Post #150 |
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Author: Starbelle Date: Sun Nov 16, 2008 8:12 pm Tayala
"No, I don't know, but then again I didn't know that Sarmatians were a breed all to themselves. I happen to have a little bit of Sarmatian mixed with British in my background. My Aunt, Tatiana, she works here too, and she's the same mix as me and she's cleaned out stalls that belong to both Sarmatian and Roman horses alike. She didn't tell me or inform me that Sarmatians take care of their own horses and to leave them alone to let you Sarmatians do it. Anyway, I didn't see a sign anywhere on the stall that said 'Property of a Sarmatian Warrior, Don't Touch' In my eyes, a horse is a horse is a horse is a horse, regardless of who rides them, Sarmatian or Roman." Tayala replied to him in explanation after blowing her bangs up in the air in a puff of an exasperated breath as she crossed her arms in front of herself, a pout on her little face, her eyes turning the color of a stormy sea in her anger. |
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