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November 2008
Topic Started: May 16 2010, 03:48 AM (3,043 Views)
golden_trillium

Admin
Author: golden_trillium
Date: Wed Nov 26, 2008 1:23 pm
Linnette


Mari
 
"That's so sweet of you! I wonder if he has any idea
that he has someone so kind looking out for him."


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.

Mari
 
"You must show him to me. What kind of women wuold he
like, do you think? That woman....with the
hair...she's...well, she seems quite tough. Though that
might just be her boyish...er...unique hairstyle more
than anything..."


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

Admin
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.

Catherine
 
"Let us not dally though, hmm? Your hard heat is driving
me crazy..."


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

Admin
Author: Lancelot
Date: Wed Nov 26, 2008 2:20 pm
Lancelot


Derfel
 
“Who is the bloody dolt a bangin’ at me door?!!  Ahh……morning?”


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

Admin
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….

Guinevere
 
“Nolan. A trick, you say? Indeed, I would like to see a
trick performed by such a small party...when our own
village is larger in population and full of very angry
Britons.”


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.

Guinevere
 
“I will ride with you, Artorius Castus, if it please
you.”


“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.

Guinevere
 
“I’m sure you will be well-behaved, as you are clearly
outnumbered by those you can see, and those you cannot.
My brother-in-arms will lead us.”


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.

Lancelot
 
"Knight. Has your woman tried to kill you at last? You
look as good as I feel."


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.

Lancelot
 
"Get dressed, Cadarn. Commander Castus has left the
fortress on a mercy mission to the Magician, and he
wishes for your help in guarding a prisoner."


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.

Lancelot
 
"You might consider notifying a senior officer the next
time you chose to take up residence someplace besides
with the other men. 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."


“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

Admin
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

Admin
Author: Darya
Date: Thu Nov 27, 2008 10:33 am
Darya


Tatiana
 
"Yes, I sure do. I've got a stallion, named Orion, that
I earned for being the only girl to complete their
apprenticeship under Master Cirith. Apparently, from
what I heard from him, the other girls that had been
there previously left. He's my baby and he's got his own
stall at the stable."


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.

Tatiana
 
"Darya, is there anything stronger than ale on the drink
menu? Don't worry, I'm not going to try it at least not
yet as I'm still getting used to this stuff, but I'm
just wondering about it."


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

Admin
Author: Starbelle
Date: Fri Nov 28, 2008 1:47 pm

Tayala


Galahad
 
"How long have you and your aunt been here, girl? I
don't remember a healer named Tatiana."


"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

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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.

Arthur
 
“You have my word…lady, and of course. After you.”


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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Author: Lancelot
Date: Fri Nov 28, 2008 6:40 pm
Lancelot


Derfel
 
“Uh, no….I had a bit a’ stomach sickness is all. Looks
like some woman got the best of you though, aye?”


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 -

Derfel
 
“And it wasn’t my choice to move either…got two women
and a babe on the way to look after now…and…that old
Roman solder Drake ‘Flsomethingorither’ found this for
us…made the arrangements his-self….I think…”


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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Author: Starbelle
Date: Fri Nov 28, 2008 8:10 pm

Tatiana


Darya
 
“Orion…”, “…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…” “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…”


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.

Darya
 
“Honestly…I’m sure there is something stronger on the
menu…”, “…you could ask one of the serving girls. Or
Vanora. Vanora sure would know… After all, she manages
this place…”


"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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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.

Linnette
 
"Speak of the devil...that's him,"


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.

Linnette
 
"He would like tough, I think...well, not tough in a
boyish way, just...someone with presence,"


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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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.

Guinevere
 
“I would send my own scout ahead to camp. And if Merlin
wishes to see you, then we will know when we are
close...”


“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.

Lancelot
 
"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. 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."


“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.

Lancelot
 
"My. Remind me not to drink the water around this place
- there's a rash of swollen and glowing women suddenly
turning up."


“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.

Lancelot
 
"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, this little Woad tried to slit our
commander's throat only a few days previous. Let us not
forget that in our duty, hm?"


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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Author: Darya
Date: Sat Nov 29, 2008 1:34 pm
Darya


Tatiana
 
"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."


“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.

Tatiana
 
"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."


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…

Tatiana
 
"That hunter, who briefly popped in, was quite lucky
with his catch, wasn't he?"


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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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.

Malcus
 
"Now it's your turn, my lady,"


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

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."


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.

Tayala
 
"Hey there, pretty one. Aren't you a friendly one.
Galahad, you've got a friendly horse, here, you know
that?"


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.

Tayala
 
"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. So where in Sarmatia are you from,
Galahad?"


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

Admin
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...

Neeve
 
“They are perfect, Vanora. Don’t you think, Neeria?


Neeria
 
"I would like to try them, I think." "Thank you for your
kindness, Vanora. For the boots especially,"


"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...

Neeria
 
"What is that food you are cooking?" "I would like some
of that!"


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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