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| November 2008 | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: May 16 2010, 03:48 AM (3,043 Views) | |
| golden_trillium | May 28 2010, 02:36 AM Post #226 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Wed Nov 26, 2008 1:23 pm Linnette
Linnette's earlier apprehension about this subject- even as she was curiously drawn to it- evaporated abruptly in the light of Mari's enthusiastic smile. It was infectious! Despite herself, Linnette was filled with the sudden, radiant conviction that she was indeed doing a very sweet, kind thing for Drake, and that knowledge only increased the joy filling her. This Mari was a miracle! A shining optimism seemed to suffuse the air around her, shining through even Linnette's grief and confusion...yes. She was doing the right thing for Drake, a thing he would appreciate, a thing that would make her feel as though their relationship were not one-sided. It was a good thing to do, a kind thing. Mari reached out and touched Linnette's hand, and Linnette gave her fingers a light, grateful squeeze just for a second as Mari went on.
Show him to her? Linnette hesitated, her good mood suddenly fading a little, as Mari once more blabbed on about Neeve's hair. This time she nearly slipped up in her efforts to describe it politely, but Linnette hardly noticed...she was still stuck on Mari's first words to her. Show him to her? Point Drake out to Mari? That seemed to strike too close to home...she couldn't imagine standing there like a giggling teenager, pointing out Drake as he went about his activities, while she and Mari cowered behind a pillar, just out of sight, and peeked out at him. That was the picture that snapped into Linnette's head, and she never once considered that it didn't have to be like that, that the "showing" that Mari referred to could as easily take the form of a dignified, grown-up introduction...it was girlish silliness that popped into Linnette's head, and she half-turned from Mari and gulped down a sip of the watered-down wine, seeking to push the image away. Ridiculous! Far beneath her station...and his. Linnette took a deep breath, not sure how to go on, but knowing that she had to say something...when all of a sudden the tavern door banged open once more and the exact person her thoughts had been dwelling on entered the big room. He was flushed, his cheeks and nose reddened as from the outdoors, his fluttering cloak behind him making him look larger than life, dirty though it was around the edges, and there were two rabbit carcasses hanging from a strap around his body, dangling by their ears. He had been hunting, then. He looked content, she noted, striding forward into the room without hesitation, but as his eyes started to shift towards the table she now shared with Mari, she turned her back abruptly to him, not wanting to meet his eyes. She felt embarrassed, as though she had in fact been pointing him out giggling from behind a pillar, though in reality she had done nothing of the sort, nor would. "Speak of the devil...that's him," she remarked to Mari, her voice deceptively light and casual, though inside she felt this close to mortified. She jerked her head illustratively in Drake's direction- he had gone to the counter now, and was speaking with the serving wench behind it, a fact which Linnette was somehow sure of even though she could not, would not, look at him. Perhaps he would order something and then leave. Perhaps he would not linger here in the tavern. Linnette could only hope. Her stomach squirmed girlishly, and she took another sip of wine, but when her mouth opened next, she heard herself pursuing the very subject that she would have said she now wished to avoid. "He would like tough, I think...well, not tough in a boyish way, just...someone with presence," she concluded, a blush creeping up her cheeks that she wished very much to banish. Why had she told Mari about this at all? It was a stupid idea, best kept to herself if she absolutely had to entertain it. |
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| golden_trillium | May 28 2010, 02:37 AM Post #227 |
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Author: LadyCastus Date: Wed Nov 26, 2008 2:11 pm Malcus Barbattus Malcus wanted it. He wanted the warmth of Catherine's sheath surrounding his hard cock. He'd played his game, but it was time to get down to business. In the back of his mind, the captain wished she was more than just a hired whore, but his lust and desire pushed any sentiments he felt down to his groin and hopefully into her, soon. Catherine's cool hands soothed the fire building on Malcus' skin. He let a moan escape his lips to let the woman he liked what she was doing. He pushed his pelvis forward a bit, trying to aim himself directly between her legs. Malcus grabbed a handful of Catherine's hair, pulling her head back slightly to expose her beautiful neck. The captain buried his face there, tracing her pulse delicately with his tongue. With his other hand, he unlaced the last string of her bodice and freed her breasts. Malcus gasped as his large hand cupped one of her delicate mounds and tweaked her nipple with his thumb. He locked his lips on Catherine's collarbone and kissed her there as he started to slowly grind into her. After the soft kiss, Malcus lowered his head, his hands still tangled in Catherine's soft, blond mane, capturing the swollen nub between his lips and began teasing it with his tongue.
Malcus nibbled a bit more at the woman's nipple before raising his head to look at her - his eyes half closed with want and need...need to bury his cock deep inside of her. Catherine's voice was husky with desire, her green eyes communicating to Malcus that she was indeed ready for all of him as well. As her hand travelled down the captain's unbuckled pants, he held his breath until he felt Catherine's fingers touch the head of his hot and throbbing cock. Barbattus groaned deep in his chest. He released Catherine then, took a step back and shoved his pants down to his ankles. He bent down and quickly unlaced his boots, kicking them off across the room and stepped out of his trousers. Then the captain pulled his tunic over his head and threw it on the floor, kicking it aside. Barbattus' broad, toned chest, rippled muscles and flat washboard stomach narrowed at his waist, where his muscular thighs were taut and flexed, much like a large, stalking feline. His dark, curly hair was close to his head as small beads of sweat on his forehead held it there. His dark eyes flashed and he looked almost feral from desire. Malcus relished this type of foreplay. He loved being brought to the brink slowly, deliberately, then satisfying himself - deliciously and deliberately grinding both of them to an explosive orgasm. Finally, Barbattus pulled down his breeches slowly, locking eyes with Catherine, wanting to see her expression when she glanced at all that he had to offer her. Malcus' cock sprung outward and upward when it was finally freed from the constraints of his clothes. His cock leaned slightly to the left, in a curve sort of, and a bead of cum oozed out of the head, letting Catherine know that he was ready. Still looking at her through half closed eyes, Malcus began to stroke himself slowly and deliberately. He smiled at the woman. "Now it's your turn, my lady," he said in a gravelly voice. |
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| golden_trillium | May 28 2010, 02:39 AM Post #228 |
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Author: Lancelot Date: Wed Nov 26, 2008 2:20 pm Lancelot
Oh, brilliant. The Saxon wasn't even properly woken yet. Lancelot rolled his eyes, even though it pained the black one, as Derfel shifted uncomfortably in front of him, bare chested and bare footed, as any slave of the Empire. That thought made Lancelot smile - and it was not the one most men liked to see. He cocked his head and allowed his gaze to pin the other knight to the floor with its directness. He did not allow the gusting wind to make him shiver again - not in front of this man. Especially not in front of this man. "Knight," he said, his voice coated in false honey - reminiscent of a rotten bee hive he'd found once on patrol. He'd kicked the thing apart, stomping it under his booted feet, but he'd never forgotten the smell or the way it made him feel. "Has your woman tried to kill you at last? You look as good as I feel." His words were clipped and short sounding - although the sun chose that moment to break free of its cloud cover and shone directly on Lancelot's back. It created a halo effect around his dark and wild hair - and the warmth brought goose bumps to his skin. Fuck. He did not want to be here. He wanted to be laying in this sudden heat and with Arthur - not doing anything productive or official. Then again, if he were with Arthur, he could use the chance to dress the commander down with as much venom and spite as Lancelot felt taking residence in his very blood. And then he could perhaps, finally, let go of the ridiculous notion of lo- "Get dressed, Cadarn. Commander Castus has left the fortress on a mercy mission to the Magician," this time the words were spat upon and broken, "and he wishes for your help in guarding a prisoner." He shoved his way passed the other man, and entered the obviously new living quarters. He cocked an eyebrow and turned to face Derfel. "You might consider notifying a senior officer the next time you chose to take up residence someplace besides with the other men." Lancelot did not tell him he'd had a devil of a time locating him; he'd allow that annoyance to come out as they walked to find Derfel's charge. "And make it quick. You've wasted half the day already - and I don't relish spending more time than necessary showing you what Arth- Commander Castus wants you to do." He crossed his arms and tilted his head from side to side; the fact that the wind was blocked from his slender body was a relief he did not show. His neck cricked and his eyes never left the face of the Saxon, although Lancelot found himself wondering just why the other man was still abed at this hour. Especially after his friend and fellow knight had just died - wouldn't he want to see to Dagonet? And where was his woman? Lancelot smirked to himself - wandering about the grounds without Derfel? The First Knight seemed to remember the woman being rather fetching. He'd have to wait around and see if his memory proved true - a mean thought crossed his mind, but Lancelot shook it off. Arthur might have put him in charge, but...if the other man actually survived his meeting with Merlin, Lancelot did not want Arthur to have any reason to chastise him when he returned. Lancelot wanted that right all to himself. |
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| golden_trillium | May 28 2010, 02:42 AM Post #229 |
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Author: Elessars Girl Date: Thur Nov 27, 2008 8:43 am Arthur The Commander had complete confidence in the men behind him and in the competence of his Optio and thus Arthur’s focus remained entirely on Guinevere; knowing his position was well guarded. She offered a hint of her possible acceptance in her smile. She further suggested her compliance by stepping closer to Arthur and allowing her tiny fingers to touch his outstretched hand. Emerald eyes sought full confirmation from Guinevere’s nearly black eyes….a wisp of her hair fluttered over her cheek in the wintry breeze and had Arthur liking Guinevere to a delicate and tender woman….although he knew better of it. She was a warrior – same as him. And as if to prove it, she turned away releasing his hand to speak to her kinsman with authority and steely resolve….
The Commander knew very well what he and his men faced, thus her words had no affect on Arthur. Instead, he took the brief moment that Guinevere’s attentions were focused on the man she addressed as ‘Nolan’ to more closely regard the lady unimpeded. During her tenure at Badon Keep, Guinevere had dressed much in the same manner of the other female inhabitants…thus seeing her now was somehow ‘different’ for Arthur. She wore only a slip of a tanned yet blue-stained garment despite the cold; indigo markings in swirls and lines adorned her exposed limbs – the markings of a warrior among her people. Merlin must surely be proud. Arthur smirked to himself….and then the image of possibly his own daughter one day becoming a woman much the same as Guinevere snapped into Arthur’s mind’s eye. Son or daughter – his child would be part Sarmatian, part Roman and part Briton….no chance at a peaceful life. The muscles in Arthur’s abdomen tightened and his throat nearly closed. He blinked away the vision and noticeably swallowed just as Guinevere’s dark mystifying eyes returned to his; her hand once again coming to slip into his sword calloused palm.
“It would,” Arthur answered while meeting Guinevere’s chilly smile with one of his own. The pleasantries in her words sounded forced yet her eyes seemed to reassure Arthur that she was genuinely willing to accompany him. They had ridden together before – when Arthur had returned her to Merlin in exchange for Lancelot. Lancelot. I pray that….. Arthur’s side twinged and his chest ached beneath his armour. His expression remained neutral despite the torments that had begun to whorl around inside his head. This was not the time to think on such pains. Not now.
And the lady took Arthur’s offered hand once more. He was careful to hold her slender fingers gently in his grasp while taking a step backwards towards where his stallion waited patiently for his master. “You have my word…lady, and of course,” He answered with practiced politeness; the corner of his mouth curling upwards in a smile yet again despite the evident dangers all around. Arthur then made a small clicking sound with mouth and Casti responded with a snort and stepped closer to his master as commanded. “After you,” Arthur gestured with his free hand towards the saddle on his stallion’s back indicating that he intended to aide Guinevere in mounting…first. He would carry Merlin’s daughter as he had the night of the exchange – her slender body in front of his as if she were a prize….or a shield. Arthur was no fool after all. Deceptively placid green eyes remained focused on Guinevere’s pale expression awaiting her acceptance. Derfel The smile Lancelot gave Derfel was more a menacing gesture than any sort of real pleasantry. And now that the younger knight was becoming more fully awake, he further noted that one of the Sarmatian’s eyes was all sorts of colors and oddly swollen around its edges – making Lancelot appear that much more feral than usual. And Derfel, still feeling particularly exposed and uncomfortable, shifted his weight again and attempted to hold Lancelot’s assessing gaze.
Derfel brows briefly knitted together in confusion at the question, and then it dawned on him that he must surely look a right mess himself. “Uh, no….I had a bit a’ stomach sickness is all….” Derfel quietly answered; still feeling down right foolish for consuming way too much ale last night. Lancelot didn’t have to know that though. The knight squinted against the light that suddenly shown in through the still open door, eerily illuminating Lancelot’s dark shape before him. He lifted a hand to rub at the sleep still evident in his eyes and then promptly yawned despite the prickly company. “Looks like some woman got the best of you though, aye?” Derfel added with renewed bravery now that he had regained his facilities. Lancelot had certainly startled him in coming here….and what in the gods names did the man want anyways? Not likely Derfel’s companionship. He nearly snorted aloud at that thought.
Arthur had orders for him? Shite. The last thing Derfel wished to do was disappoint the Commander….even after all that had happened back there on that battlefield at Segedunum….and at that thought, darkness easily filled the blue of Derfel’s eyes like a ashen cloud of misery looming over the crystal waters of a placid lake. But his posture stiffened and he stepped to shut the door once Lancelot had so pointedly invited himself right on into the apartment. At least Derfel could shut the cold air out of the small space even if he could do nothing about the damned First Knight’s icy disposition.
“Aye…fine….” Derfel had a difficult time keeping his tone even as he padded back towards the entryway to the small side room he shared with Linnessse. “And it wasn’t my choice to move either…got two women and a babe on the way to look after now…and….” Derfel kept on explaining the new living quarters as he crossed into the other room and rummaged around for his thick brown tunic. Derfel truly did not feel obligated to explain things to Lancelot - of all people - but it made for idle conversation while he gathered his things and dressed. And Derfel also did not realize what he'd just implied by the 'new babe on the way' either as he simply assumed that Lancelot knew Linnette carried Gedeon's child. “…that old Roman solder Drake ‘Flsomethingorither’ found this for us…made the arrangements his-self….I think…” Derfel frowned at the thought of Drake, although the man had truly been quite helpful. But not the sort of bloke that Derfel would have preferred to have around as the man seemed to be void of any sense of humor – Drake hadn’t even cracked a smile the whole time they were setting up this new apartment. But the young knight was still feeling a bit overwhelmed here….he loved Linnesse and would do anything in honour of Gedeon….but he knew this was going to be difficult on his meager wages and all. He yanked on his tunic and raked a hand through his messy blonde hair while now searching for his boots. Derfel was rushing about as best as he could….but not for Lancelot’s sake. Oh Hell no. But he was still Arthur’s knight and would do whatever duty the Commander wanted from him. |
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| golden_trillium | May 28 2010, 02:43 AM Post #230 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Thu Nov 27, 2008 9:50 am Ione No matter how she tried, Ione could not forget the sadness that was still very fresh in her mind. A tear rolled down her cheek followed slowly by another as she thought over the past hours: hours in which she had lost her baby son, and the knowledge that she had lost two other friends in her absence from the fort. Dark tear filled eyes looked down at her handiwork: the black cloak that was almost done. Ione lifted the cloak to her face and sobbed into its soft folds, trying to stifle to audible sounds. The pain and emotional agony of the late night and early morning hours, and those who had given her comfort in those times. As she cried, Ione could not help but look back on her life so far, and what a mess it was. Pregnant with the remaining twin, and not knowing who the father was... the way men had used her, and the way she had allowed herself to be used due to the lack of love in her life.... The remaining child within her moved and gave her a few gentle kicks. This child meant a new chapter in her life, and she'd make sure that he or she was not treated as she had been... and not to make the stupid mistakes she had. It was a true miracle Titrus had even taken note of her... The young woman's tear stained face lifted to meet the dim gray light of the afternoon. Somewhere out there had to be the hope of happiness that she and her child deserved. Ione lay the cloak half way down and looked at her belly. For now, it'd just be her and the child, and she'd never let he or her know of her past. Ione wanted the child to have a happy life, and not be marred by her past.... Just then there was a knock at the door, and Ione frowned. She had not been expecting anyone, but she lay the finished cloak aside, and went to answer the door anyway. To her surprise, Titrus's daughters had come to visit, and it lifted her heart to know that they cared so much do so. She stood side and left them in. As she took their cloaks, the oldest one said, "We decided to bring some food to you, and we did not mind." The oldest girl handed the full basket to Ione who took it with a slight smile. "Thank you, but you really shouldn't have... I mean what would your father..." Ione set the basket of food on the table. "You needed to rest, Ione. Mother use to say that all women who are with child should rest. We did not think that you should go out so we brought food here for you, and we have decided to stay with you for a bit.... Papa is gone, and we would like some company as well." "Well you are most welcome to stay, girls, and I would love the company as well," Ione smiled warmly through th tears that still lingered. She indicated some chairs and pillows by the warm fire, while she put the food in a cold storage area. The second oldest of the four girls noted the finished black cloak on the table next to where Ione finally sat. She looked from Ione to the black cloak and back, "Papa would look so handsome in this. He needs some new cloaks..." The others agreed. Ione laughed, "That is for your father and the red one as well." The second daughter looked at it thoughtfully, then said, "yes I think he'll like it." "Well, I hope he does." For the rest of the afternoon, the five women talked of everything, and brought warmth and comfort to each other. They were all worried for Titrus, and Ione was concerned for them, so to share laughter and stories was a great way to pass the time. |
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| golden_trillium | May 28 2010, 02:44 AM Post #231 |
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Author: Darya Date: Thu Nov 27, 2008 10:33 am Darya
The pride and excitement which now resonated in Tatiana’s voice was much more to Darya’s liking than the gushing over Lancelot before. When the stable-hand spoke about her horse, the Sarmatian even noticed the familiar sparkling in the girl’s eyes. The sparkling that appeared in her own eyes often enough when she told others about Kahlan…her beloved chestnut mare. The thought made the dark-haired smile for a moment…though she hid the smile thoroughly behind the mug at her lips. With her elbows propped onto the table, she kept the mug lifted up…carefully sipping some of the still rather hot fluid every now and then while listening to Tatiana… “Orion…”, the female Sarmatian mused, “…that’s a strong name. No doubt for a strong stallion. Treat him well and he can be the most loyal and reliable friend you can have…” Darya paused and a corner of her mouth twitched slightly. “Two horses in the stables are mine…”, she then continued and tilted her head to the other side, “…and they both are…very special to me, too…” Indeed, they were… Kahlan was a part of her life…and Círdan was a gift. A gift given to her by none less than Arthur.
Wha'? The dark-haired blinked, surprised by the sudden change of topic. Anything stronger than ale? Well… Darya breathed a quiet laugh. “I’m afraid I’m the wrong person to answer such a question…”, she replied and twisted her lips in an amused way, “…unlike most of my kinsmen, I’m not much of a drinker, you know…” The Sarmatian then found herself briefly distracted by the door to the tavern being opened again. A wave of cold air hit her sideways and she automatically glanced towards the door…noticing Drake entering the room. The way the older man looked, he had been outside for a while…hunting apparently, as she could tell from the two rabbit carcasses hanging at his hip. She dared to watch him walking over to the counter for a moment…but then focused on Tatiana again… “Honestly…I’m sure there is something stronger on the menu…”, the dark-haired added and blew a strand of hair out of her face, “…you could ask one of the serving girls. Or Vanora. Vanora sure would know… After all, she manages this place…” |
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| golden_trillium | May 28 2010, 02:45 AM Post #232 |
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Author: Starbelle Date: Fri Nov 28, 2008 1:47 pm Tayala
"She's been here longer than I have. Aunt Tatiana's been here somewhere between 5-10 years while I've only been here a couple. Since she started here way before I was born." Tayala replied as she moved slightly closer to where the gray mare was extending her neck to snuffle at her as she didn't want to cause the horse to hurt herself by trying to see the young stable-girl. "Hey there, pretty one. Aren't you a friendly one." She said patting the gray's neck gently. "Galahad, you've got a friendly horse, here, you know that?" The young girl commented while continuing to pat the horse's neck. "Oh, she's not a Healer, sir Knight, not exactly, since she doesn't work in the Infirmary, not reallly.. she's a stable-hand, like me. Aunt Tatiana helps others out because she wants too..but she was never trained in the Healing arts, not at all. Grandmam tried once to teach her the healing arts of course..but it didn't work out that way." The little girl said with a slight mental shrug from the other side of the horse's neck while her deft fingers went to work braiding the gray mane as she talked. Since some of the mane was out of her reach, Tayala had to stretch her arms up slightly to get at everything to finish her braid work. "So where in Sarmatia are you from, Galahad?" Tayala asked curiously wanting to know something about the mysteriously, quiet, brooding knight. |
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| golden_trillium | May 28 2010, 02:46 AM Post #233 |
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Author: TwistOfShadows Date: Fri Nov 28, 2008 2:37 pm Guinevere Oh, but Guinevere was a warrior! Her lithe blue form appeared weak, but there was no denying the fiery depth of her black eyes. The Woad woman looked at Arthur, and hers was not an expression of hatred. But let no man be fooled, she had wiped blood off her hands on many occasions, and heard the last breath of countless. It was an idiot that underestimated Guinevere of Briton, because her father was Merlin. A Dark Magician, some called him. His blood coursed through Guinevere’s veins with that same vehemence, and she stood strong against the Roman party. She was ever aware of her kindreds positions too, and their successful attempts at surrounding Arthur and his soldiers. Ceinwyn lingered in the undergrowth, Nolan at her right hand, Smith on their rear...and the others. There, ready, prepared. The woman did not feel vulnerable or under threat, because Arthur and his party were outnumbered. Why should she fear? She trusted Arthur not to betray his word, and should she be wrong? Well, Guinevere was prepared for the consequences. She looked to Arthur’s stern and handsome brow, and placed herself willingly into his charge. Let her ride with him. She was a tool for negotiation, no? Guinevere’s hand fitted well in Arthur’s. She could feel his callused palm upon her skin, and his thick fingers taking hers captive. Guinevere glanced down at their joined hands, and then looked up at him slowly. She blinked lazily, through heavy lashes, and stepped forwards towards his horse. Guinevere was not a stranger to riding, but it was not in her nature. Not truly. She travelled better on foot, or in trees. She had an agile footfall and fluid stride, but on a horse’s back? Guinevere was not truly in charge. Surely that was Arthur’s idea. The Woad Princess stepped up to Arthur’s horse, and looked him confidently in the eyes.
Guinevere heard Arthur click a demand to his stallion, and her lips lifted in amusement. Communicating with animals was a very British trait, and the woman parted her lips to voice her thoughts. But changed her mind. She nodded in compliance, and a lazy smile marked her full lips. The Woad placed her free hand onto the pommel of the saddle, and she glanced down awkwardly at the stirrup. Her hand tightened in Arthur’s, and she held onto him for support. Surely he knew she was not adept? Her expression remained amused however, and she placed her booted foot into the stirrup. Lifting herself up lightly, she threw her leg over the horse. Her small dress lifted high around her blue thighs, and she sat snugly at the horse’s front. The woman released Arthur’s hand gently, and she brushed her hand up through her hair. The loose dark hairs curled around her face prettily, and she looked onwards towards their path. She glanced down at Nolan, and remembered his words. His questions. No, Merlin would not want them to ride directly to camp, and so she turned in her saddle, looking to Arthur. “I would send my own scout ahead to camp.” She spoke confidently, and glanced up to Smith. Guinevere nodded at the male Woad, emphasizing her order. An amused glint appeared in her eyes, and she arched an eyebrow at Arthur. “And if Merlin wishes to see you, then we will know when we are close...” Guinevere turned her attention back ahead. She gestured in compromise to Nolan, and curled her fingers tightly onto the saddle... |
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| golden_trillium | May 28 2010, 02:48 AM Post #234 |
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Author: Lancelot Date: Fri Nov 28, 2008 6:40 pm Lancelot
As Lancelot shoved inside the small abode, his dark gaze caught Derfel's eyes as the blond knight attempted a joke. Lancelot hmph'ed as he surveyed the rooms. "I'd say it might have been some wild fight - or perhaps one of the new, buxom lasses Vanora has brought in that caused this," he said, his tone smooth, no hint of danger in the dulcet sound. "But I would also say it's none of your damn business - unless you're so interested I could show you how I got it." He cocked his head and regarded the other man as Derfel shambled into the apartment - never clarifying whether it was a fight or a woman that had blackened his eye. He'd rather the Saxon wonder about it - and be afraid Lancelot might shove him down and force some act on him that he did not care for. Fear was a powerful tool. And that's my past talking. Those men are long dead, and I would not stoop - Gods, Arthur. Come back, so you can help me with this - I am lost in my own head -
Lancelot could hear the other man's explanation from the bedroom; luckily, Derfel could not see Lancelot's expression. "My. Remind me not to drink the water around this place - there's a rash of swollen and glowing women suddenly turning up." Another pregnant one. Another woman to watch as she grew beautiful and round and full of the future that Lancelot could not and would not have. He spat, and wiped his lips with a dirty hand, and sighed when he noted the dirt ground under his nails. Tapping his booted foot on the floor, he took the few steps in order to see in the smaller room Derfel had disappeared into, and watched as the Saxon fumbled for footwear. "Snap it up. You don't have to find your parade dress, for fuck's sake. You'll just be on guard duty - the commander, in his most wonderful and infinite wisdom, has allowed yet another Woad girl to remain here on fortress grounds while she heals. You're to watch her - she's with Neeve now, on to the baths, I would assume. And Cadarn," he added, his angular face darkening with his thoughts. "This little Woad tried to slit our commander's throat only a few days previous. Let us not forget that in our duty, hm?" He stepped back and looked around the place again. His eye throbbed and his back ached and his wounded arm hurt like a bastard. Rubbing at the wrapped injury through his jerkin, he finally allowed a small shiver to slide over his body like a forgotten and sorely missed lover, his skin goose-pimpling and his eyes closing briefly. Finish this duty, Lancelot, and then you can drop everyone and everything but yourself and finally fucking be alone. Just like you always are. The little apartment, despite its newness, felt warm and cozy and welcoming. It was still in disarray from the move, but Lancelot could see home beginning to take shape; it would truly be a home once the women had their way and finished the place. He could still hear Derfel bumbling around in the smaller room. I am not jealous of the Saxon. |
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| golden_trillium | May 28 2010, 02:49 AM Post #235 |
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Author: Starbelle Date: Fri Nov 28, 2008 8:10 pm Tatiana
Hearing Darya talk about her own horses, caught Tatiana's attention. "If we manage to get lucky enough to wind up being in the stable at the same time, I'd love to see your horses, Darya." The stable-girl said to her after taking a sip of her drink. Taking a glance over at the hawk, she noticed that the bird looked comfortable sitting on the back of the chair next to the dark-haired. Feeling the blast of cold air, she followed Darya's look over towards the tavern door and saw a gent entering with a bit of game hanging from his hip. Looks like he was lucky hunter tonight. He's going to be eating quite well, I think.
"I probably will, when my curiousity gets the better of me and I just have to know..because once I know about them, I'll want to try them and I really don't want to mix anything at least not right now." Tatiana said. "That hunter, who briefly popped in, was quite lucky with his catch, wasn't he?" She commented to the dark-haired with a nod. |
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| golden_trillium | May 28 2010, 02:51 AM Post #236 |
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Author: Pinkie Date: Sat Nov 29, 2008 10:25 am Mari When Mari ceased talking she lifted her little wine cup and took a sip, smiling as the liquid warmed her from inside. She was bright-eyed and eager, looking at Linnette intently. Intent - but not as perceptive as one might be. She did not note that her asking to have Drake pointed out to her was making Linnette uncomfortable. Of course Mari didn't see anything really wrong with standing behind pillars pointing at people and giggling. She was still a child at heart, really. This sitting down and drinking wine was her first step into woman-hood. She liked it - undeniably, but she would find it hard to leave her childishness behind. Just when it looked like Linnette might speak again, she stopped abruptly. Mari lifted her eyebrows and tilted her head at teh woman, a piece of bread half-way to her mouth. Linnette was watching something and just a moment before Mari was going to turn to look at what it was, Linnette abruptly turned her back to the door and looked at her. Mari's big brown eyes were filled with curiosity and she glanced to the side as a man strode by.
Him?! Mari stared unabashedly at Drake's broad back as he approached the counter. She could see the foot of a rabbit poking out from the front of his hips and his red cloak was filthy, hanging down the back of his legs. There was an air of unapproachability about him, a sterness that made Mari goggle and she darted an incredulous look at Linnette. This was the man that she sought to make a match for? The man oozed 'loner' from every pore of his being, something that Mari was never very perceptive about - but someone as bedraggled as this man here? Well, it didn't take a perceptive person to perceive that! She gave a startled shake to her head and looked over at the man's back again. He had ordered something and stood very casually by the bar. He lifted a huge hand and brushed his fingertips into the short hair at the back of his head. He turned his head to the side and Mari caught a glint of hard green at his eyes. She gave a surprised smile and then looked straight at Linnette.
The woman spoke at a mere whisper and Mari followed suit, leaning forward to whisper hushedly - "He has very lovely eyes." she commented as nicely as she could, unwilling to mention that those same eyes looked like they could skin a deer at 50 paces. But it was true at least - they were a very.. earthy green. She pondered this idea that it had to be someone tough and rubbed a finger against her chin, leaning forward to trap her arm between her body and the wooden table-top, her face creased in genuine thought over this issue that Linnette had put before her. "I think he would like a strong woman too - someone .... someone who could cope with life and not grumble about it." she said with a smile, tense though it was. She assumed a woman would have to be strong to be with him because he did not necessarily look like the type of man that could abide any kind of grumbling. "I wonder what his wife was like... poor man..." Mari added the last as her shoulders sagged and her eyes dropped to the table-top, genuine sorrow marking a crease on her forehead for the stranger's loss. She had not quite made the connection between this man right here and the man who had helped her and Alina with Milan. That night was rather obscure in Mari's memory - faces were fuzzy in her mind's eye. |
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| golden_trillium | May 28 2010, 02:53 AM Post #237 |
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Author: Elessars Girl Date: Sat Nov 29, 2008 12:27 pm Arthur Oh how she beguilingly smiled up at Arthur – the lady Guinevere, daughter of Merlin, and his supposed enemy. But the Commander could see the boundless intelligence and bravery that resided deep within her soul as his assessing green eyes held her dark gaze. He was certainly no fool and certainly not as susceptible to her womanly charms as most men likely were. Arthur might have a physical weakness hidden beneath his breastplate, but his emotional armour was completely intact. Arthur felt the grip of Guinevere’s tiny fingers tighten on his as the wildly painted Woad hoisted herself up onto Casti’s broad back. The garment she wore slid up her thigh, exposing even more blue tinted flesh as Guinevere accustomed herself to the saddle. He watched her every move as the female warrior delicately brushed the hair from her pale face. And for an instant, Arthur saw Darya – long dark hair, delicate features yet fierce determination and assassin instincts so clearly written across her brow. He rapidly blinked away that vision and moved his now free hands to give the tack a firm tug as a final inspection before re-mounting himself.
“Of course, and I pray that he will for I shall not accept ‘no’ for an answer…lady,” Arthur murmured in return; kindness still evident in his stern expression despite the determination that flared from the depths of his emerald eyes. Arthur then turned to survey the men and the Optio, all of whom appeared to be waiting patiently for the word to proceed. The Commander gave Amadeus a nod, a silent conveyance that they would continue on momentarily. Arthur knew that both Tristan and Bors would look after the rest of the soldiers accompanying them and he could call upon his knights should any real trouble arise. But Arthur’s main focus was on convincing Guinevere to deliver her father….peace was the goal here. The Commander then gently lifted Guinevere’s booted foot from the stirrup in order to place his own there in mounting. He reached around his ‘captive’ to grasp at the saddle both in front of her and behind and swung himself up into the saddle to the rear of Guinevere’s lithe form. Arthur’s wounded side twinged in the motion, but he stifled a grimace and instead focused on positioning himself comfortably while sharing the saddle with his companion. Arthur reached down between them and pushed the straps of his pteruges out of the way as to alleviate any uncomfortable friction between their bodies during the ride. His right hand reached for the leather reigns he’d left draped over Casti’s withers while his left gathered at his crimson cloak. “I offer a little warmth, hm?” Arthur spoke into Guinevere’s ear as he brought his left hand around to drape his cloak over her exposed thighs. The dress she wore concealed little from Arthur’s view thus the purpose of the cloak was two-fold – a benefit for them both in added protection for her and reducing the level of distraction for Arthur. His left hand proceeded to then take up a comfortable residence across her lower abdomen. Intense green eyes then focused on the road up ahead and the Commander awaited his escort – the man Guinevere had addressed as ‘Nolan’ – to lean them on. Derfel He had located one boot, but its mate seemed to be eluding Derfel as he bent in search for the thing underneath the tiny bed. Lancelot’s voice still had the timber to reach his ears from the outer room though…unfortunately.
“A woman’s jealous lover…no doubt…” Derfel grumbled mostly to himself while he snatched up the second boot from its hiding place at last. And by the gods, the last thing the blonde knight wanted right now was a tussle with Lancelot. The dark knight would surely best him this day and Derfel had already been on the receiving end of Lancelot’s powerful fist once before. The bastard was a good bit stronger than he appeared – all wiry and such. And although Derfel was loath to admit it, he knew Lancelot was the more seasoned warrior between them.
“Aye….I’d hate for you to be turnin’ up with child,” Derfel half laughed as he tugged on his worn tan leather boots. He knew better than to test the limits of Lancelot’s ‘so-called’ patience….but the younger man was also aware of Lancelot’s reputation with the womanfolk of the outpost. Surely there were more than a few innocent little babes running around the place with the First Knight’s own blood coursing through their veins.
Derfel was in the process of gathering his swordbelt and daggers when he heard Lancelot dictate the details of his assignment….he immediately stilled his movements and turned back towards Lancelot with quite the puzzled expression on his stubbly face. “Wha? What’s that one doing back here?” Derfel asked the question without thinking. Surely Arthur had had his reasons and the young knight knew that he was not privy to the Commander’s thoughts and motives…but why was that Woad even still among the living? Derfel had been at the rear of the line when they had been attacked on the road the other day, but he had heard of some lucky Woad scrambling up on the Commander’s back with a knife….and Arthur had still seen fit to spare their life in exchange for information on Merlin. Derfel then stepped out of the small room to re-join Lancelot in the common area of the apartment. He had his swordbelt and daggers in one hand and his overcoat in the other – still not fully dressed and ready for duty, but he hoped that Lancelot might be keen on divulging just a bit more information on this Woad prisoner he was to guard. Derfel had a small dull ache in his head and his back was still stiff from an overlong night in the bed and he sure could use a bath and a shave too….but no doubt that would all have to wait. |
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| golden_trillium | May 28 2010, 02:55 AM Post #238 |
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Author: Darya Date: Sat Nov 29, 2008 1:34 pm Darya
“Oh, I’m sure that can be arranged…”, the female Sarmatian replied with a wry grin, “…I usually happen to be around and inside the stables a lot.” Then she paused and sipped some more of her tea. “However, as a stable-hand you have certainly already seen my two darlings…though I will gladly introduce them to one day…”, the dark-haired added with a nod. Talking about her horses also reminded her that she still had to work on Círdan’s education…yet she would not do that without consulting Neeve first. After all, the young stallion had and his temper had caused her some problems and pain before. And as things were different now – regarding her own physical status – the Sarmatian wanted a few more details about do’s and don’ts from the healer. However, Darya would also remember Tatiana’s excitement about the topic of horses. It was something she could relate to… It was something that made the girl quite likable. And it meant not having to answer countless questions about the First Knight, who was hardly seen in the stables of that.
Darya breathed a quiet laugh and briefly shook her head. “Don’t be too curious…”, she said, “…because that stuff can make you feel really poorly in the end. And never drink on an empty stomach…” Tatiana’s curiosity about alcohol was amusing…and yet Darya felt the strange need to shield the girl from herself when it came to the liquid hell. Especially since the Sarmatian knew very well what effect ale and all the other drinks could have on a person. “That stuff can make a different person out of you…and that not necessarily in a positive way…”, she murmured while glancing into her mug before she drank yet some more tea… Of course the woman still remembered how she had behaved opposite Derfel the other day when she had had too much ale. Too much ale on an empty stomach of that. And how she had felt afterwards. And that was only one of the situations ale had gotten her into and that she regretted by now… Some of them at least… Darya sighed quietly and slightly furrowed her brow at her own thoughts and memories… Then Drake’s presence distracted her for a moment…and obviously not only her…
The Sarmatian cast another glance at the Roman before her gaze was back on Tatiana. “Apparently he was, yes…”, the dark-haired replied with a nod, “…especially considering it being winter. Do you hunt, Tatiana?” |
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| golden_trillium | May 28 2010, 01:09 PM Post #239 |
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Author: Pinkie Date: Sat Nov 29, 2008 3:47 pm Catherine Her job was always that bit easier when her patron was handsome. Malcus was just that. He was also rather considerate. He did not dive in straight for his own climax, he tended to her though he did not need to . He was paying her for this - that is what Catherine got out of it. Her cost was not lowered if she found pleasure in their coupling - so when a man paid attention to her, when he dipped his head to lavish soft and arousing caresses to her breasts and neck, the woman responded. Her fingers curled into his short hair and she smiled, her teeth nipping into her lower lip. When his position changed, allowing her fingertips to brush the top of his heated cock, the woman's smile was beaming. Her hazy green eyes were half-lidded with mute arousal as she looked up at his expression, wrapping her sure fingers about his length. He took a step back and Catherine gave a husky chuckle, taking a step back also. She lifted a soft, pale hand and cupped one of her breasts, her other hand pushed her skirts down low on her hips, not quite low enough to slide down to her feet just yet, but temptingly low. Warm green eyes looked to the man's torso as he removed his tunic. She gave a grin of approval at the hardened muscles that were rippling with hot arousal. His trousers went next. Catherine watched with unabashed curiosity for him to reveal himself and gave a purse of her lips in more mute approval when his manhood was revealed.
Catherine looked up into his smugly smiling face. She smirked at him and shrugged one shoulder upwards. She slid her hand from her hip upwards, between her breasts and put the tip of her nail between her teeth sweetly. By lifting her hand from her skirts the fabric simply slid down her smooth thigh and bunched down on the floor in a rustled heap about her feet. She still had her bodice on her shoulders, the laces opened to reveal her brests. "My turn? I don't usually get turns." she purred, backing away from him. She was smiling at him - then crooked her finger, indicating for him to come along with her. Her eyes slid to his cock and she smiled even broader. "C'mere..." she whispered huskily as she backed into a chest of drawers. Lifting one finely toned leg, the woman slid her bottom against the wooden surface so that she sat on the bare edge of the chest, her thighs parted, her body waiting. Galahad
Her voice washed over him and he barely listened. His movements were practised, efficient - a brush with the hard bristles, then with the soft to smooth it all out, bristles, then soft, then bristles and soft. The young knight picked up on some of her words, not thinking too long about them. He was presuming 'Aunt Tatiana' to be a woman getting on in years, because, for some reason Galahad presumed that she had been the same age as Tayala was now when she came to Badon and if she had been there 5-10 years. But how had he never actually seen her if she had been there as long as he had? The Sarmatian snorted at his own hang-up on why he didn't know one person out of hundreds who lived and worked in and around Badon Keep. Big deal.. he told himself surly.
The curly haired knight ignored his horse mooching forward to snuffle at Tayala. The mare was fairly new to him - his second here in Britain. His first had been wounded during a battle two years ago and was now in the employ of a minor Lord somewhere to the South as she had been no good as a war-horse with the wound she had received. But this grey... well, she was good. She was learning. They were still getting used to each other. And Galahad, being Sarmatian, had all the patience in the world to get to grips with a horse. He glanced down the horse's straight and noble neck and gave a wry smile. He clicked his tongue and the horse' big, dark eye turned towards him but she continued to snuffle at the stable-girl.
Sir Knight, Galahad thought to himself with a snicker of fatalistic humour. Oh how noble she made him sound. For a moment he narroewd his blue eyes at her. Watching her. What, exactly, did she know about him? About the other Knights? Did she think them heroes or something like that? Did she think them to be noble men, full of honour, valour and dignity when in truth they were nothing more than lost men, full of insecurities, hurts and resentment towards Rome? The Knight pursed his lips and stood back to see what it was she did with the horse's mane. He cocked a dark eyebrow when he saw she was braiding it. Braiding his horse's hair? What the ... ! Galahad opened his mouth and pointed a finger towards her, the rest of his fingers curled around the brush. He was about to tell her to stop when she asked him a very strange question. What part of Sarmatia? His mouth snapped shut and his eyebrows lifted together in the middle of his forehead, making him look youthful and unsure. "What part? What..." he trailed off as he shook his head, understanding her question but not why she would ask. Or care. A sudden flare of his habitual surliness bid him answer in an irritated voice - "The unfree part. The part where children, barely adolescent, are rounded up and taken from their homes to be brought to shit-holes like this and forced to pay a debt with their sword-arms. That part, girl." he said bitterly, continuing to brush his grey horse now with more vigour than before. His eyebrows were now stitched together in annoyance and bad memories. He stopped abruptly and gestured with a brush towards her braiding. "And why are you braiding my horse's mane? She is not a Lord's horse. She's a slaves horse." he said, leaning forward and enunciating the word 'slave' with vehemence. He snifed and went back to brushing. He knew he was being unfairly mean but then... what was new? Smith High, stern and beautiful. Guinevere was an attractive woman. Her strength was not something every man would find desirable, but for men who lived in the wild and who were in constant danger, to know the woman sharing their bed was able to take care of herself was a comfort. The woad princess was not a gentle thing. She was not fragile or simpering. She was hard as metal, supple as a willow branch and as beautiful as a crisp winter morning. That there rare seemed to be a softer side to her was not enough to dissuade a woad male. Smith considered such things as the princess deftly placed herself in the Roman's saddle. Of all the woads he probably found this the least offensive because he himself rode a horse - so the only hurdle he had to leap was accepting that his leader's daughter sat so flushed against the hard body of the enemy. Willingly. He tensed his jaw. The woman cut an impressive figure sat upon the horse but Smith still did not see the advantage of her riding with the Roman. Why did she not ask to ride upon his horse? HE would gladly sit her upon his saddle and ensure that no harm came to her. He did not think for one minute that Arthur would harm Guinevere, not when she was so explicit in informing him that they were surrounded and outnumbered, but it still sent an uncomfortable shiver down the male woad's spine. His dark, unfathomable eyes searched the treetops for Kayley and gave her a nod of his head. He spotted Ceinwyn by chance and narrowed his eyes at her. Strange woman... Guinevere spoke. Smith looked towards her, straightening in his saddle when he heard her tell Arthur that she would send her own scout forward. The young woad did not acknowledge her order nor seek confirmation from anyone else but her. He immediately clicked his tongue and tensed his thighs, urging his horse forward. He tugged the reins to the side and manouevered the beast around the other Romans. As he passed them he put his hand to the hilt of the sword at his waist and eyed the men. Once he had passed them, allowing his large stallion to stomp his hooves and upset the more flighty of the horses with the Romans, Smith grinned,a twinkle in his brown eyes and then kicked his heels into the horses flanks, sending the beast away at speed through the forest. Within seconds he was gone, a distant thud and echo left in his wake. The forest opened up around him and Smith leaned low in his saddle. His face was set serious as he moved through the forest. Creatures scattered out of his way as he set a ground-eating pace. The Romans would never travel this fast through this forest because they did not know it - Smith did. He knew every upturned tree, every exposed root and every covered ditch - he weaved side to side. His dark hair whipped back off his face, revealing his handsome facade, the high cheekbones and thin, soft lips set in a straight line of concentration. He went straight towards the village, he didn't bother with alternate roots. His passage was quickly covered over by the mulchy earth. When he arrived at the village he slowed down a little, waving to the sentries in the trees as he passed. He swung his long, strong legs to one side, and without stopping the horse, he slid to the ground and continued to walk at a quick and sure pace until he came to the hut that was Merlin's. Smith held the reins of Scáth in one hand and rapped on the door with the other - |
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| golden_trillium | May 28 2010, 01:11 PM Post #240 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Sat Nov 29, 2008 6:47 pm Vanora When Vanora had come back with the dress, boots and cloak, she had noticed the young woman looking about the small house like she had never seen one... or was she thinking about things in general? She looked at the dress and items in her hands, then at Neeve and Neeria wondering if the color she had picked out would look alright. Neeria would possibly look nice in earth colors. Vanora was not a conossure of fashion and color, but she had learned a bit from making sure that whatever her darling little bastards wore looked good on them.....Except for playing outside. As Vanora held up the dress for the young woman to view, Neeria almost had a look of total curiosity on her face. had she never seen one? All Vanora had left to offer her was a pair of Bors' pants that he had outgrown due to a lovable bit of weight he had put on. He was not fat... he had just accumulated muscle in his training under the Romans and fighting and such...
"I think she'll look very nice in a dress, and the boots have little wear to them, so they will keep her feet warm..." Vanora cocked her head thoughtfully at the young woman, then to Neeve. "Yes. I think they will do nicely. As long as you can get use from them, Neeria, then you are welcome to them." The red head handed the clothing to Neeria with a smile. "My mother always told me to do acts of kindness for others. To do this for you was not a problem, and you are welcome." While Vanora talked, she could smell the wonderful dinner her oldest daughter had started. Of all of the children, #1 was the best cook, and the house was filling with the warm smells of simmering soup...
Vanora laughed lightly and looked warmly at Neeria, "My dear, my oldest daughter made that for dinner tonight. If you wish to, you and Neeve may return and join all 12 of my children and myself of dinner while Bors is gone. It'd be nice to have company." It was not customary in her house that someone automatically wanted to eat food... at least without asking in a polite manner. Vanora dismissed this tidbit as it seemed that this young woman had had little connection with civilized people. As she studied Neeria, the young woman was really a beauty under all of that dirt and such. With a bath and clean clothes, she'd look a bit more civilized. Not that Vanora wanted to change the young woman's ways at all. How she lived was her business, but perhas people would be more accepting of her... |
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