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November 2008
Topic Started: May 16 2010, 03:48 AM (3,049 Views)
golden_trillium

Admin
Author: golden_trillium
Date: Sat Nov 15, 2008 3:39 pm
Tristan


Titrus
 
"Well woo, hoo, hooooooo! Was she skinny? Or did she
have ample cushion for the pushin'?"


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...

Arthur
 
“Tristan! Take us on to the campsite, if you will.”


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

Admin
Author: Starbelle
Date: Sat Nov 15, 2008 6:47 pm
Jols


Brendyn
 
"Well, I have only been truly in love once, and she was
every thing I had ever dreamed of in a woman... She was
intelligent, fun to talk to, slender but not ungodly
skinny... and she took care of herself, " "She believed
in me, Jols, and she was loyal to me..." , "And you, my
friend, what attracts you to women?"


"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

Admin
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.

Neeve
 
“And I had my reasons to do so, didn’t I? And you are just adding more reasons to that list. Have you forgotten already why you ended up in the dungeons in the first place, hm? Or what the Commander told you? If you don’t do as I say…you shall be reported to the current person in charge – which is the First Knight.  And certainly you remember his orders in this case as well, right? So I suggest you pull yourself together and accompany us to Vanora’s house. Unless of course you prefer to stay in those rags you’re wearing.  I’m sorry for this…but Lancelot and I have our orders regarding this one. Orders she knows but apparently doesn’t give a damn about. I thank you for your offer, Vanora, and we…will of course accept it and accompany you to your house.”


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

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Author: lady ione
Date: Sat Nov 15, 2008 9:59 pm
Vanora


Neeria
 
"I'm not going anywhere with you! You threatened to kill
me, lady. How do I know this is not part of your plan.
I'm staying here."


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...

Neeve
 
“And I had my reasons to do so, didn’t I?” “…and you are
just adding more reasons to that list. Have you
forgotten already why you ended up in the dungeons in
the first place, hm? Or what the Commander told you? If
you don’t do as I say…you shall be reported to the
current person in charge – which is the First Knight.”
“And certainly you remember his orders in this case as
well, right?” “…so I suggest you pull yourself together
and accompany us to Vanora’s house. Unless of course you
prefer to stay in those rags you’re wearing…”


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...

Neeve
 
“I’m sorry for this…but Lancelot and I have our orders
regarding this one. Orders she knows but apparently
doesn’t give a damn about…” “I thank you for your offer,
Vanora, and we…” “…will of course accept it and
accompany you to your house.”


Neeria
 
"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!"


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...

Neeria
 
"Thank you for your offer of kindness....Vanora? I mean
you no harm," "no matter what she says. I have no weapon
and no reason to cause you trouble." "I will gladly
follow you to your home without incident." "Do not give
cause for people to fear me, healer. I will tell you for
the last time, I mean these people no harm."


"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

Admin
Author: Darya
Date: Sun Nov 16, 2008 4:12 am
Neeve


Neeria
 
"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!  Do not give cause for people to fear me, healer. I will tell you for the last time, I mean these people no harm."


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.

Neeria
 
"Thank you for your offer of kindness....Vanora? I mean
you no harm, no matter what she says. I have no weapon
and no reason to cause you trouble. I will gladly follow
you to your home without incident."


Vanora
 
"Well, now that that is all settled, shall we get going
before it gets too late?"


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

Admin
Author: Pinkie
Date: Sun Nov 16, 2008 2:02 pm
Smith


Ceinwyn
 
“Then we must follow orders. And hopefully encounter
some unfortunate Romans along the way...who are in dire
need of having their throats cut.”


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.

Guinevere
 
“I care not what happens to her corpse. Let it rot.”


"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.

Guinevere
 
“Is there something you wish to ask me, Smith?”


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.

Guinevere
 
“I trust my father’s judgement. And if she plays foul
for my father’s affections? Then I would not fancy her
surviving particularly long. Merlin is no wise man’s
enemy. You take an amusing interest in my father’s
affairs, hm? I assume it is because you care for his
wellbeing. Tell me, how is Merlin? Is he well?”


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.

Nolan
 
"We need to set up a perimeter and check the area for
infiltrators before we assume the camp is empty. There
could be Romans or Sarmatians waiting for our return. We
should split up and surround the camp for surveillance
for assurance. Guinevere, do you have any specific
orders?"


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

Linnette
 
"To Gedeon."


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...

Linnette
 
"What happened to your hand?"


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.

Tayala
 
"Oh yes, I know what things you mean and no, you're not
missing them, quite the contrary, sir, I put them all
away in the cabinet after seeing them on the floor of
the stall. I didn't want you to trip over them by
accident as they were laying right in the middle of the
floor while I was cleaning and changing the old straw
along with replacing the old hay and oats and placing
new straw as well as hay and oats in the stalls on this
side of the stable as I and a few other stable hands had
already done the other side of the stable."


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

Malcus
 
"You really are very beautiful, Let's get out of this
cold."


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...

Malcus
 
"Never mind him, We're here, my lady, Is it warm enough
in here for you, Catherine? Or shall I turn up the fire
for you? hmmm?"


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

Arthur
 
“Tales?”


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.

Arthur
 
“Hatred is a powerful emotion, Yet it had given me
strength that night to retrieve my father’s sword – may
God rest his soul in peace, The rumor you speak of has
reached my ears over the years…but all that I can attest
to is that I now carry my father’s sword…I chose my own
fate that night,”


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.

Arthur
 
“Tristan! Take us on to the campsite, if you will,”


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.

Tristan
 
"The horse is with them,"


"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

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Author: golden_trillium
Date: Sun Nov 16, 2008 2:12 pm
Linnette


Mari
 
"I picked up a tray of hot coals. 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. Milan took us to safety
then. What about your hand... ?"


"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

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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...

Nolan
 
"We need to set up a perimeter and check the area for
infiltrators before we assume the camp is empty. There
could be Romans or Sarmatians waiting for our return. We
should split up and surround the camp for surveillance
for assurance. Guinevere, do you have any specific
orders?"


Smith
 
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's right. There's... Something's disturbed
them."


“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

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Author: Starbelle
Date: Sun Nov 16, 2008 3:27 pm
Gawain


Eyla
 
“Whose back is that then?” “Trickster seems lovely...but
I am not here to claim a horse’s attentions, knight. I
am here because you are here. So come now, we are making
delays, no?” “Kiss me.”


"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

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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.

Saoirse
 
"I dont know where t'start.


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.

Saoirse
 
"I feel guilty fer bein' so happy tha' ye came back
alive."


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

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Author: lady ione
Date: Sun Nov 16, 2008 4:40 pm
Brendyn


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."


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

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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….

Tristan
 
"Northeast. The horse is with them,"


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.

Amadeus
 
"horse? Woads?"


“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

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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.

Tristan
 
"Northeast. The horse is with them,"


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.

Amadeus
 
"horse? Woads?"


Arthur
 
“Are they close? How many are their numbers? Men, be on
your guard…remain in tight formation, We will continue
on along the path, It seems that Neeria had been of some
use after all,”


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.

Smith
 
There's... Something's disturbed them."


Guinevere
 
“Where?”


Rosita squatted to the ground and looked behind them. Nolan
closed his eyes and sensed the air.

Guinevere
 
“Nolan, go ahead. There are not enough of us to make a
scaled attack, so be restrained...it might be nothing at
all.”


At that moment, Nolan heard the distinct sound of a horse
whinny. He opened his eyes.

"They are here!" he hissed.

Ceinwyn
 
“Would they be stupid enough to approach after such a
disastrous meeting? They do not learn.”


Guinevere
 
“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.”


"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

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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.

Tatiana
 
"I'm Tatiana. It's very nice to make your acquaintance,
Lancelot ap Ban. I wish that you did too, Sir Knight,
but I'm really looking forward to seeing you again,
hopefully quite soon."


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.

Tatiana
 
"You looked so much like a dream standing there, that I
just had to touch you to make sure that you're really
real."


Ah, there's my magic again.

Darya
 
“He at least smells very real…It is a pleasure,
Lancelot…as always…”


....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

Admin
Author: Starbelle
Date: Sun Nov 16, 2008 8:12 pm
Tayala


Galahad
 
"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." "You know what that means dont you? To be
Sarmatian?"


"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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