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| November 2008 | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: May 16 2010, 03:48 AM (3,057 Views) | |
| golden_trillium | May 16 2010, 02:02 PM Post #16 |
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Author: Pinkie Date: Mon Nov 03, 2008 7:38 am Drake Drake wasn't angry or upset. But nor was he entirely sure he felt really sane in those few seconds since turning his back on Linnette. He felt detached from himself, his hand about Fleur's warm little leg, Cassidy silent beside him - it all seemed surreal. He badly needed a drink but he knew himself well enough to know that it would not stop at a drink. Not one - but many, and many more and he would become drunk and that way led to misery. He knew that. He had been there before. Resolutely the Spaniard pushed down the urge to lose his mind in the end of a bottle.
She called hsi name and Drake prickled all over. Had she ever actually said his name before? He stiffened, staring straight ahead. Fleur's little fingers were touching the back of his neck as she held on, her head lowered to his shoulder so that her whispy blonde hair stuck to his beard. Linnette was over that side and Drake didn't look towards her, his jaw set he stared straight ahead as she offered to bandage his hand. What hand?! Oh... She walked off and the Spaniard flexed his fingers beneath Fleur's little leg, feeling the frayed edges of the bandage catch against the callouses of his fingers. The hole in his hand from when the Woad had ... that bandage. Drake walked out of the infirmary before taking a breath. Fleur asked him a question and he shook his head, not truly hearing what she said, distant was his mind. Cassidy looked up at him suspiciously but this he ignored also. His boots thudded quietly as he walked them across the courtyard and towards the fortress. Someone inside would know this blonde woman, Catherine, and someone would know where she lived. A man in the fortress had known Catherine, and knew of her friend Arland. Arland had initially been indignant, looking at the little blonde girls but had eventually ceded the information to Drake's impenetrably stoic expression. Not only that but the youth had walked Drake to the front door as well, leaving him there with a rather elegant lookng older woman. She had been dubious at first. Eyeing Drake and eyeing the girls as they sat by the hearth-fire eating oaty cakes whilst Drake sat at the table speaking with the woman, bartering a good upbringing for them. His initial promise of a lump-sum was met with disdain from the woman. It would suit her better to receive a nice sum monthly from him as she presumed that he was their father and that he was recently bereaved of his wife and could not take care of the two children. Drake did not discourage nor deny what she claimed... nor did he affirm them. In the end he convinced her a lump-sum was best because, due to the unpredictable nature of his work he might be dead tomorrow. It was not a huge amount, Drake knew, but he would also be certain to give the girls their own money once they came of an age taht they would need it. Cassidy was silent about the arrangement. Fleur was delighted. The woman, Rose, was a little hard of sight but she took to the girls immediately and opened up a chest from beneath the table that was filled with girls clothing and accroutements. Drake gave a lopsided smile at this and bid farewell to the girls, promising Cassidy he would be by to check on them , and to make sure that they were being treated well. He had no doubt about it. Rose had been a weaver and had already proclaimed that she would educate the older of the girls in the art. Returning to his little room, Drake resolutely did not look at Linnette's door. He did not knock to see if she was there. He went into his own little room and flopped down onto his bed, arm across his flat stomach and gave a groan of weariness. He had barely slept the night before and he was starting to feel the pang of that now. Without thought he crossed his forearm over his eyes and gently sild it down, brushing the soft hairs there under his nose and took a gentle sniff before realising what he was doing. Grunting, he tossed onto his side and shut his eyes, determined to find some sleep before facing the world again. |
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| golden_trillium | May 16 2010, 02:05 PM Post #17 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Mon Nov 03, 2008 10:01 am Ione
The young weaver had been a bit apprehensive about even making a guess as to how far along she was, and tried to think back that long....there had been Matteus and Gialdin (who had totally forgotten her, and had refused to even admit that they had once had feelings for each other.) The Roman then? Ione frowned at her own suspicion, and then just thought it foolish to even try to guess right now. As long as the child was healthy and strong, then that was all that mattered for the time being.... When the child got older, then she could tell who the father was. Those months back then had been nothing but turmoil for her: the loss of memory, the feelings of loneliness and confusion. It was a past that she had dealt with. It was time to look to the present and the future. Just raising her child as a single mother, and running her shop. Ione's thought's broke as she noticed Linnesse's confused look at her answer. As the blond healer headed to the door and opened it, Ione wondered if this was going to change how she saw her...or for that matter, how Titrus saw her. They had been friends for so long, before Deeta had died, and it really mattered to her how he looked at all of this. It really mattered to her what he thought. In that moment, Ione's mind wondered to the two times Matteus had made love to her...in that brief and happy span of time before he was killed in the dungeons. The same day she had promised to marry him. Oh! Those memories hurt! The love they had shared had been very brief. The young woman nodded her head as Linnesse left the room leaving her with Sister Margaret. The weaver liked most of the nuns even though she was not of the Christian religion, and Sister Margaret seemed to be rather a likable soul. As Linnesse shut the door, the nun looked down at Ione with a neutral look. Either Ione knew who the father was and was not saying, or she knew and the father was dead....which, at the fort, was the most likely fact. Most of the women at Badon had been married to soldiers who had died in battle. A long period of silence stretched between the nun and the weaver. Ione wanted so much to say something.... to finally have a non-judgemental person to talk to. She had thought about talking about how to raise her child as she had never been a mother before, and this was all new and exciting for her... she could talk of her visit with Titrus, but that was reserved for them alone and she felt was not to be shared with others. The soft gentle kiss he had brushed over her lips had been a sweet and unexpected surprise. After Deeta had died, Ione had allowed him to go through a period of grieving, and had been there for him if he needed to talk. Both of them had tragedies in their lives and had always been there for the other. What were friends for? She felt the moment again and rubbed her hand over the area to calm it down... It was not long before Linnesse returned, shutting the door behind her, and walking over to the bed with two neatly wrapped packets which she lay on the table. Ione sat slowly up propping herself up on the pillows while Linnesse began to speak...
Ione looked intently at both healers as the nun explained the instructions. Ione wanted a child so badly, and vowed to take every precaution to make sure this one survived. "Yes, I understand, Sister," Was all she said. Self consciously, Ione reached down to straighten her dress making ready to try to get up and walk off some of the residule achiness. The infirmary room now held nothing but sorrow that Ione would not readily forget, and that feeling made her miss her shop. But it also held happiness as it held the sweet memory of a tender kiss. |
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| golden_trillium | May 16 2010, 02:06 PM Post #18 |
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Author: Darya Date: Mon Nov 03, 2008 10:19 am Darya The dark Sarmatian had fallen quiet and merely watched the others around her. It was hard to tell how the men felt about their upcoming mission…with one exception. Karl made it pretty obvious that he was not exactly excited about it. On the contrary it seemed. And when he once more attempted to provoke first Tristan, who was just returning with Lancelot and Arthur in tow, and then Brendyn, Darya frowned at the old Roman. What on earth had happened to make him so grumpy and straight out obnoxious? No one was born that way…right? Wrinkling her nose slightly at Karl, the woman shifted her dark gaze into the direction she had just spotted Lancelot and Arthur approaching and once more found herself amazed by the Commander’s shining, impressive armour that should make every enemy or potential enemy think twice before saying or doing something imprudent. Arthur was all the Roman soldier now…and yet Darya knew that underneath the armour he was a still injured man. She could not help but wonder whether or not Neeve did approve him riding out. Most likely not. And Lancelot? Her countryman looked like a mess. Dirty, tired…bad. The dark-haired arched an eyebrow at his sorry appearance for a moment but then focused on the argument between Brendyn and Karl instead…which was quiet. Yet. But knowing Karl, that might change soon… The hawk on Darya’s arm shifted slightly…alternately lifting one foot than the other to flex the clawed toes. It was a strange feeling as the Sarmatian was very aware of the bird’s claws separating from her skin…and then digging into it through the drapery of her dress again. Still not painfully…but clearly noticeable. “Don’t worry…”, the woman murmured quietly, “…he won’t be gone for long…and I’ll find you some meat soon, too.” With that, a corner of her mouth twitched slightly…
Dark eyes snapped up and found the Optio for a moment. Well, those words should put an end to Karl’s bickering and perhaps prevent Brendyn from getting into serious trouble by allowing the older Roman to finally provoke him. Licking her lips stiffly, Darya averted her gaze from Scipio again and watched everyone’s reaction to them… |
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| golden_trillium | May 16 2010, 02:07 PM Post #19 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Mon Nov 03, 2008 10:52 am Linnesse
"Good. Go with God, child, and make sure you get your rest." Sister Margaret raised her hand to sketch a quick sign of the cross, as though blessing Ione with a prayer, and Linnesse moved reflexively to cross herself likewise, the habit deeply ingrained by years of attending church. She finished the gesture hastily, though, and stepped forward to Ione's side as the other woman made to rise from the bed- awkwardly, and if not exactly painfully, as though it was an effort. "I'll walk with you if you like, Ione," Linnesse offered, scooping the teas off the bedside table and then holding out her other arm to Ione, ready to assist her to rise if she needed it. It seemed so...so anticlimatic, so quietly desperate, that Ione should just walk out of here and go home, just as if it was any other day and she hadn't just given birth to a dead child, long before its time. So much had happened- and the sun hadn't even reached its zenith in the sky yet today. "Help you get settled in..." she continued in a murmur, thinking ahead to what she could do for Ione once they got there. Get a cup of that tea started, perhaps...bring her as many of her requirements as she could so further journeys wouldn't be necessary...a flash of fantasy, of herself doing all these things for Linnette, should it be required, formed itself in Linnesse's mind, and she bit her lip with a silent prayer for it not to. Please, please, let Linnette's child be healthy and strong, and born in the full time...it was so easy, so dreadfully easy, to lose a baby, but the one Linnette carried now had so much riding on it, being the child of a dead father as it was. Not that Ione felt any less strongly about hers... Linnesse sighed uncomfortably as she reached down to help Ione up. |
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| golden_trillium | May 16 2010, 02:08 PM Post #20 |
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Author: Pinkie Date: Mon Nov 03, 2008 11:28 am Galahad There was something amazingly soothing about brushing down a good horse. Galahad worked thoroughly, slowly but thoroughly. His side ached but the wound remained sealed, thankfully. The cut high on his cheek from the fight the day before stung as dust clung to his skin but it was a tolerable pain. He would cleanse it properly later. The grey stood stoic and willing as the Knight brushed and wiped, brushed and wiped - leaving her coat shimmering, almost silver rather than grey. There was a bit of a commotion down the way and the curly haired knight straightened, wincing at the creak in his back as he leaned on the door to peer down the line of stalls. He could barely see anything so shrugged and turned back to his horse. He knuckled his hand deep into the knotted tendons at the base of his spine and groaned, wondering when he had become such an old man. The Optio came walking by the stalls and took the reins of his horse off a young girl a couple of stalls down from him. Over his shoulder, Galahad watched the sharp-nosed man warily, staying very still. He felt himself goggle when the Optio tossed the girl some coins adn then turned back to toss her some more with an order to look in on two other horses. Galahad snorted in private amusement at that. He ducked his head and looked back at his horse. The task had his mind's total and undivided attention. Until he stopped. Then the crushing pain of betrayal added to the young Knight's woes. He pouted his bottom lip in self-pity and looked up at the rafters with moist eyes. Lifting a horsey-smelling hand, Galahad wiped beneath his nose and sniffled loudly, setting back to work to take his mind off of it... off of her, again. Tossing the brushes onto the stable floor, Galahad took the reins of the horse from it's hook on teh wall and set about strapping, bridling and saddling the horse. His movements were quick, efficient, perhaps a little terse and sharp but it got the job done thoroughly and quickly. With a menacing scowl on his face the Kinght led the horse out of it's stall and in the opposite direction of the gathering for the mission, across a threshold and into the wide, empty, indoor arena. He stood a moment looking at the arena and then turned to mount the grey. |
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| golden_trillium | May 16 2010, 02:10 PM Post #21 |
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Author: Unicorn Date: Mon Nov 03, 2008 11:48 am Dagonet Dagonet was slowly positioning himself to leave the infirmary. Saoirse was back and he just gave her a little smile at her return. His every movement was stiff, his strenghts plainly diminished, his body was still weak... It would be a hard walk, but he needed it. He needed to be out of here for some time only. Before he even attempted to get up a familiar voice caught him in place.
Dagonet's head snapped to the side at this call. Linnette was going their way fast with somebody behind her. The tall knight frowned a little at this. Did something happen? He looked briefly at Saoirse before Linnette and a girl behind her came closer.
Dagonet frowned slightly at this, but there was hint of smile behind this frown... What was this all about? He glanced over the young woman, who came with Linnette and he saw her smiling at him slightly. "I was just actually..." he started, but nodded his head, sighing a little. "Sure... What is it?" |
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| golden_trillium | May 16 2010, 02:11 PM Post #22 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Mon Nov 03, 2008 11:50 am Ione She would not have anted to leave so soon, but that staying in a room where she had lost her child was making her uneasy. Not that she'd put the memory of her lost child aside... it would have been a boy, and even though it had died, Ione had felt so much love for it that it almost broke her heart to even release it. Titrus had assured her that Ian would go to heaven, and she prayed that was so. She bowed her head in respect as the nun blessed her, while Linnesse had made what the Christains called The sign of the cross. The weaver still did not fully understand this, but she had seen her father do the same sign a few times...
The healer had taken the teas from the table and placed them in her pocket, while Ione made a move to get out of bed, the nun and Linnesse made ready to help her to get out of bed. Ione stopped a few times as there was just some dull residule achiness. The weaver sat there for a moment, and brushed her hand over the areas where she had cuddled her dead child... telling it that she loved it and would never forget it. She looked up at the healer with blurred eyes, "I-I feel as though I should stay here as I have just lost my little boy.... but all I would feel was agony if I stayed here any longer.." Ione sniffed a bit trying not to cry again as she looked down at the roundness of her stomach. ''I loved Ian so... so much and now he is gone... I would like to go to the shop... so that I may grieve in silence..." The weaver reached out and took the arms of both healers, and slowly stood making sure she had her balance. Her eyes filled with tears once again, but she didn't cry. Instead she offered Linnesse a small smile, "Thank you, Linnesse. I would like you to help me... " To refuse the offer would have been foolish. What if she got dizzy or something? But the other half of her knew Linnesse probably had other things she had to do as well, and not just wait on her all day. Ione began to think of all of the things she had to do: First, to grieve for the loss of her child, then to treat herself to an herbal sponge bath, then to look in on Titrus's daughters which she looked foreward to. The rest of her day, Ione'd take care of herself, eat a good meal, get lots of rest, and relax at her loom by the window of her shop, or by the fire... Ione could not help but worry for her dear friend, and she knew where her thoughts would be until he returned safely home to the fort... |
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| golden_trillium | May 16 2010, 02:12 PM Post #23 |
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Author: Unicorn Date: Mon Nov 03, 2008 12:25 pm Mirtha
Mirtha smiled a little and looked at her as she pured some of the ale in front of him. "No... thank you Vanora, it' should be fine" The next thing she said Mirtha did not expect... Yes, Vanora was running the tavern and was known of talking with lots of people around. It was in fact a part of her job, really. But she had not asked him before about him like that.
Mirtha frowned slightly. About what would she willing to hear? About his drinking problem? About that he had been drunk while making love to Ione? That he came to her and made love to her afterwards? That it could be the reason of loosing her child? Would she like to listen about details of Ione's miscariage? Mirtha lowered his gaze and took mug full of ale, took sip of the liquid and after that there was no sign of smile upon his face only stern expression. "Vanora... Have you ever had a feeling that you do everything wrong?" he asked after a second, not completely feeling comfortable with talking about it , but he cast a look upon Vanora. His question was serious one. |
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| golden_trillium | May 16 2010, 02:15 PM Post #24 |
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Author: Elessars Girl Date: Mon Nov 03, 2008 1:33 pm Arthur Tristan had not had any further information to add and thus Arthur had only nodded his head in gratitude for what the scout had already disclosed before the three men continued on across the courtyard. Arthur, thinking on the time, glanced up at the sun’s location in the sky overhead….nearly midday already. Then the Commander turned his focus towards the group gathered at the stables, he deeply exhaled and began to mentally prepare for the ride to Merlin. Lancelot had remained steadily keeping pace at his side while Tristan had moved on ahead. Scipio, Bors, Jols and others were there presumably awaiting Arthur’s arrival….as was Darya….the mother of my child. God, give me guidance and God watch over them both. At a firm tug on the straps of his pteruges, Arthur pivoted ‘round to face Lancelot – this would be the ‘farewell’ that the Roman had known would come from his lieutenant. And judging from Lancelot’s rigid body language, he was not going to make this easy on Arthur. It was a rare occurrence when Arthur rode out from the fortress without Lancelot at his side….and despite carefully weighing the pros and cons before deciding to leave his lieutenant behind, it was still both difficult and unnerving for the Commander. But it was the best arrangement for Lancelot’s own good. Thus Arthur prepared to once again defend his decision.
Arthur slightly canted his head in full agreement on both statements, although the Commander’s expression remained stoic even when Lancelot laughed in the end. The sun was somewhat in the other man’s eyes…but that did not blind Arthur to Lancelot’s emotions – there was something simmering beneath the surface and behind the other man’s narrowed gaze.
“Fine,” Arthur acknowledged what he had already known to be true before Lancelot had verbalized his intentions. The Commander’s hands involuntarily flexed at his sides and he ignored the dull ache in his abdomen. And just as Arthur had thought to continue on to the stables….
And there it was again, Lancelot appeared to be open – bare – before Arthur’s eyes. What? Do not do this, Lancelot. Not right now. Arthur closed the small cold space between them by taking a single step towards Lancelot. Anger, wounded pride and foulness permeated from the other man’s every pore. And Arthur’s steely composure fell away as liquid green eyes met troubled amber orbs – exposed in a rare moment of vulnerability again. The Sarmatian’s injured eye appeared to focus on Arthur accusingly; Lancelot’s cheek was stained with dried blood from a cut that had thus far gone untreated….and he smelled of the earth, and blood and sweat and….pain. “Lancelot….” Arthur said the other man’s name quietly while he reached up to grasp at Lancelot’s untrimmed bearded jaw. “…wash, fill your belly and tend to yourself in my absence, or I will do it myself upon my return,” He continued for Lancelot’s ears only and as luck would have it, his broad frame and height concealed the gesture of care from those at the stables. Arthur’s hand then shifted from his lieutenant’s jaw to press open palmed over Lancelot’s chest – at the base of his throat and over the pendant that the Roman knew was there beneath the other man’s clothing. I will not abandon you. Arthur opened his mouth as if to add something more - a more intimate sentiment perhaps - but no words came, and thus his mouth closed again; lips forming a small smile that also made the corners of his weary eyes crinkle in a way that only Lancelot ever witnessed. The bond between them that had been forged years before – before Darya and before that night seemed to have strengthened again in this moment. Yet, Arthur removed his hand from Lancelot’s chest and began to turn away….from the one who knew him best. Now was not the time to focus on private matters – now was the time to fight for peace for all of those in Arthur’s charge. The fight for his heart would come later. Love has taught me how to lie….life has taught me how to die. The poignant exchange had happened in only the briefest of moments, but it had felt like an eternity for Arthur. Something had passed between he and Lancelot…it had been a fleeting thing – floating away on the icy wind as it whipped at Arthur’s long crimson cloak in the wake of his footsteps…..but the sensation had reached out and gripped at Arthur’s hardened heart with the strength of ten thousand warriors…or was it the stab of ten thousand swords? Yet Arthur walked on, head held high and without conscience effort on his part, once again appearing every bit the Roman Commander he would be remembered as for all the ages. “Optio…..men,” Arthur’s tone firm and ‘official’ as he gave the first nod of acknowledgement to Scipio out of respect to the man’s rank and then briefly looked to each man in the group readying to follow the Commander on this mission for peace. He approached his mount Casti first, pleased to find his great white war horse fully prepared for the ride. Jols was an exceptional squire. The stallion welcomed his master with a soft snort and bowed head, immediately nuzzling at Arthur’s open hand. He briefly rubbed at the magnificent animal’s nose and then stepped around to give a final check on his tack. |
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| golden_trillium | May 16 2010, 02:17 PM Post #25 |
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Author: Pinkie Date: Mon Nov 03, 2008 2:17 pm Saoirse Saoirse was about ready to bring Dagonet to the baths. She had remained relatively quiet whilst he ate, pondering his question. Was it truly what shewanted to do? Or was it guilt and need that bid her to turn her hand at healing? She could not deny that she enjoyed reading of the herbs and was comfortable in the knowledge of what she had read thus far. Perhaps she could do more than just heal though... perhaps she could use that herb-lore for other things. Like... candles. Or… The Irish woman shook her head and frowned, trying to focus on the here and now. Dagonet had finished eating and was about ready to stand. Saoirse stood by him and smiled down at him, her hand at his elbow, ready to lend assistance should he need it. Not that she could hold the weight of him if he were to fall. She was banking on him knowing if he would fall and sitting before it happened.
The familiar voice startled Saoirse. Her head whipped up and she looked over in surprise that Linnette was back again, and so soon. It took a moment for her feelings to turn from bewilderment to pity and selfish dread at being faced with the widow again. Quietly Saoirse cleared her throat and looked to Dagonet with her eyebrow cocked, coaxing him to speak.
Saoirse scratched at her forehead idly and plopped back down onto the chair, her hand on Dagonet's knee protectively as she looked up at Linnette. She saw Mari behind her and gave a surprised lift to her eyebrows. "Mari." she greeted the girl. The last time she had seen her was when they had buried Rafe's girl, Adrianna. Saoirse couldn't fathom why Linnette was towing the girl around with her and so turned her chilly blue eyes up to the woman, wondering what was so important that had her eyes so bright, her cheeks flushed with vitality and life. She hardly seemed the same woman who had been tehre the night before. Amadeus Arthur paused and turned back to Lancelot. Amadeus tilted his head to the side to try and see what was passing between the men but they were too far away and Arthur's broad, armoured shoulder blocked the view regardless. Clearing his throat, the Optio glanced over at Darya, watching the dark-haired woman watch the Commander. He wondered what she thought of Arthur's leadership and his relationship with the First Knight. The two men were as close as brothers - did that affect her? Did it make her jealous? Something to ponder on during their ride forth, Amadeus mused to himself, looking back at Arthur. When the Commander stepped away from his Knight the Optio tilted to the side again to see Lancelot. His eyes visibly widened to see the bruises on his face that were not there the day before. The cuts and scrapes on his face were rather vicious looking! A suitable punishment for some transgression? And then it clicked. Amadeus' lips pulled upwards in a smile which he quickly turned to Arthur so the Commander would not think he found Lancelot's bruised face amusing - though he did... mightily.
"Commander Castus. We are ready to ride on your command." Amadeus intoned, not mounting his horse yet but waiting until Arthur did. He still had a lopsided, easy smile on his face as his grey eyes flickered back to Lancelot and his bruised face. Well, well... Arthur had seen it fit to punish his second in a very personal manner then. How it must have rankled them both! And Amadeus took pride in knowing that he was at the heart of that rot between Commander and Knight. Lancelot had brought it on himself, of course. But then, Amadeus looked back across at Arthur and wondered to himself... would the Commander be so brutal to Lancelot? He had shown nothing but favour to the wild Sarmatian. Why would he then physically harm him like this? And to leave the marks for all to see? Yet Amadeus could not figure out how the Knight had had no bruises the last time he had seen him and now he had. There had been no fighting that he had heard of reported. So it must have been Arthur... "It is a fine day for riding. The cold overnight will have hardened the ground for our passage." he commented knowledgably with an easy smile on his lips, looking every bit the casual and friendly Optio that he wasn't. |
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| golden_trillium | May 18 2010, 01:42 AM Post #26 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Mon Nov 03, 2008 3:00 pm Vanora and Adian
Vanora nodded, "Should only be a moment then." She took a quick scan of the tavern hoping to see Bors yet this morning, but she had not seen her lover yet. Looking back at Mirtha, Vanora went to the kitchen, told the cook of Mirtha's order. The moment the cook heard Mirtha's name, she knew exactly what to make as it was the same thing he ordered all the time. While Vanora waited for the food, she could not help but notice how downcast the stable master looked. Any other day, he'd be coming in smelling like he had already been to the tavern... "Here ya go then," the cook handed Vanora the plate of food. "Thank you," Vanora smiled and returned to the bar with the hot plate of food. As she set it down, his demeanor had not changed: sullen as a clam in winter. "Here ya go. That should make ya happy...I know food makes any man happier.... though it won't take away those battle wounds you have." The frown on Mirtha's face seemed pasted there as he lowered his gaze to the tankard of ale. When he finally spoke, Vanora gave the man her attention...
"Sometimes...yes," Vanora offered a slight smile. "Everyone is not perfect, Mirtha. We all make mistakes." She said nothing else as there was no other explanation to give to the question. If everyone had been born perfect, the world would have been a boring place. As sullen as he was, Vanora did not want to press him too much as he was known for his temper unless he had a few drinks under his belt. She raised an eyebrow ready to listen, but also not asking 'why do you ask'. No doubt the man had gotten into a scrap with one of the stable boys. After seeing the ghost, Adian had decided to head over to the tavern and get something to eat as he had not had much since yesterday. Or perhaps just something to drink would be better. He entered the abode and walked over to the bar next to the man he had met yesterday...uh...Mirtha wasn't it? He nodded a head at Vanora, and pointed his chin toward the ale, "I think I need a drink, Vanora." His voice shook as well as his hands....as a matter of fact, his whole body trembled. "What's up, Adian?" The tavern manager asked curiously. She could not recall the young man ever coming in and just asking for a drink. Vanora poured it anyway, and set the tankard in front of him. Adian was shaking so hard that he spilled some on the counter, and finally was able to take a drink. He looked over at Mirtha, then at Vanora and said softly, 'Saw...a damned ghost...it...it was Thorn....' He couldn't say anything more as he was more intent on just drinking and calming his nerves that way. Vanora did believe in the supernatural, but had never seen a ghost, so she had no reason to disbelieve Adian. She shot a glance at Mirtha, "What do you make of it?" Brendyn Brendyn had spoken his mind where Karl was concerned, and when he had finished, he turned back to attention fixing his eyes on the Commander who was fast approaching. No, he did not want trouble, but he felt as though this Karl fellow was out to get him in trouble...
He knew he could have gotten in trouble just for speaking his mind to Karl. He looked down briefly at the fingers on his left hand that had been broken as a punishment for speaking out. Antonius had not allowed him to see a healer as he felt that a lasting reminder would be the best punishment. The two fingers had not healed right and were slightly crooked... very slightly. That did not prevent him from fighting or using weapons, but they had been a solomn reminder compliments of Antoinus. Now, his face was forward and watched with pride as Arthur entered the stables, and saluted the men assembled. Brendyn returned the salute, and in that moment, he had forgotten all that Karl had said. This was what he was trained to do, and he'd do it to the best of his abilities. He continued to face forward watching the Commander and the horse greet each other, then he checked the tack. Brendyn could not recall ever having seen one so white as that horse, and he wondered at what breed it might be. Brendyn's eyes roved to where Darya and Tatiana were waiting, and almost felt like saying something more to the Sarmatian... wanting to thank her for the advice and the relaxed talk they had had. She had been gentle and kind, and he hoped to talk with her again soon. She did seem to be watching the Commander, but Brendyn counted it as just wanting to see him off safely. A lot of women did that, or at least in the other forts he had been at, women seemed to flock about the troops before a battle or mission. He left his eyes move to the Optio who also greeted Arthur...
As the Optio greeted Arthur, Brendyn Waited patiently for the mission to start. It made him feel more at ease knowing that Titrus, Bors, Tristan, Jols and Quintus were all coming along as well. In his mind, Brendyn began to go through all that he had been taught concerning what to do in worse case scenarios as his ex Commander had taught him to.... |
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| golden_trillium | May 18 2010, 01:44 AM Post #27 |
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Author: Pinkie Date: Mon Nov 03, 2008 4:26 pm Catherine Very tender, very sweet. The Captain ordered some tea for them both and the serving wench went off in a slight huff. Catherine might have felt amused by the obvious jealousy in the woman's tone if she had not been so focussed on her current project. And he was really rather pleasing to watch too. The blonde tilted her head to the side and smiled when the man lifted her hands to his face and blew gently. Her fingers gave an appreciative twitch inwards, brushing the underside of his chin briefly before relaxing once more, feeling warmed. The moment held very still around them - the crackle of the fire, the sound of droning voices by the bar, the whish of wind outside.
Catherine listened with intent. She knew precisely who she had heard what from but was curious to see if he would hide anything from her. And he didn't seem to. She gave a coy smile, her lips parting in silent appreciation when he kissed the back of her hand. His eyes had pinned her and she could give away her entire heart and soul so easily - but instead she looked down at his large, grubby hands holding hers and lifted a sweet shoulder to her ear. "Both." she told him truthfully, then smiled quite suddenly, a flash of amused teasing in her eyes when she looked back into his dark eyes. She parted her lips to ask him a question when the wench returned, leaving the tankard of tea on teh table, cups for them both clattered onto the wooden top and she walked off. Catherine glanced at her retreating back and gave a snicker of amusement. She pulled one hand back to cover her mouth as she gave a soft laugh, shaking her head. "I think she has heard the whisperings from your lovers, Captain - and she thinks me unworthy of such a man." Catherine mused, delicately draping her hand back into the Captain's as she sidled in a little closer to him. She straightened her finger out on one hand, allowing the backs of her fingers to touch the inside of his wrist softly. "Is there more to the Brute than whispers then I wonder..." she said wistfully, not looking at his face but staring adoringly at his hands. Smith
Of course he admitted it. Smith was teh first to admit his own flaws and failures. He was modest amongst all his other virtues. He was terrible because he knew that there were many who would be his companions or lovers and yet he shunned them all, favouring his own company or that of his horse above all others. Kayley knew this too. It was not a bad thing, to him. It was just a way of life - a habit he had formed and found comfort in. It was not a reflection of his opinion on the others - it was simply his way.
Smith cocked an eyebrow at the sweet tone that the woman used. He looked half over his shoulder at her and snorted in mild amusement, shaking his head. Surely she knew that her tone and suggestion would be a torture to the poor man trailing them. The dark eyed woad turned to look over his shoulder completely, scanning those following in their footprints for Micah. He had to look back to the front again as another drooping tree threatened to knock him off his horse - so he focussed on the path instead of the people.
The woman took a little while to think about his question and Smith had almost forgot the asking of it when she answered him. He held his breath as she started to speak, not realising the barb in his words until half way through her explanation. When she did realise she pinched him. Smith breathed a gasping laugh, twisting to the side to avoid her pinch but it only hurt his collarbone to do so. He hissed a pained breath and crossed one arm over his body, a hand to his shoulder and a flicker of agony darkening his features. He hunched his shoulders a little and let his breathing even out a little, sighing as Kayley asked him if he had anyone in mind for her. The young woad's dark eyes sparkled as he looked over his shoulder at her. His look was considering, dazzling in it's intensity - it was enough to stop a woman's heart beating. His eyelids drooped a little, lazily, sultry - and he knew it. He then took a deep breath and looked back to the front, quiet a moment before he spoke in a low, husky tone - "You don't need any of them, Kayley. Not Colin, not Roan - not even me. You're tougher and stronger than the lot of us." he told her, clicking his tongue as he directed Scáth to the left, down a narrow pathway through the forest. |
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| golden_trillium | May 18 2010, 02:18 AM Post #28 |
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Author: TwistOfShadows Date: Mon Nov 03, 2008 4:49 pm Eyla Eyla was bored. Where on earth had all the men gone? She could not find Arthur, and that was a disaster. Teasing the Commander was one of her favourite past times, and now he disappeared without a goodbye? Eyla was deeply hurt, and pouted all the way round the fortress. Her slippered feet brushed Badon’s floors like a silken kiss against barren land. She was deeply feminine, and walked rather petulantly. She swung her hips like a trained whore, and lifted her eyebrows at any passerby who dared look in her direction. Anyone was easy prey today, and she sought the weaker ones. Yes, they were easier to please and she could toy with them. They did not get annoyed with wordplay, infact they found Eyla the most intriguing and lovely woman they’d ever met. It did not matter that she took money for pleasure, that was a small detail. She was expensive. She could give hedonistic satisfaction and a little affection. If needs must, and the price was worthy... Her wanderings took her to the stables...but she passed them without hesitation. Horses were often filthy animals, and not in the good way. And besides, she was wearing a lightly coloured dress that did not bode well with dirt and hay. Her dark hair fell in velvet strands about her revealed and swollen breasts, and she tugged her bodice down a little...for effect. Glancing down, a feline smile slipped across her rouged lips, and she kept on walking. A gentle hum escaped her lips, and she twirled a full circle as she walked. Oh, but it was childish! Delightfully so, and her eyes brightened at the idea of childish play. She did like to play. The whore spotted the knight’s training arena, and furrowed her brows lightly. Now there was always a good hunting ground for the...agreeable men. But the dirt on the floor? Without a second thought, Eyla hitched up her skirts to her knees, and entered the arena. It sounded quiet, almost empty, but there was someone there, someone she had often viewed appreciatively from a distance. Galahad. And what a fine picture he made! He was younger than the other knights, but his appearance was petulant like her own. She had often admired his dark curls. They were different to Lancelot’s, more youthful...and gosh, the knight was always grumpy! That was definitely a sign of lack of amusement, a lack of a woman to warm his bed... Galahad was about to mount his horse, and Eyla stepped into the centre of the arena, still holding her skirts around her knees. She flashed him a pretty smile from behind and spoke, purred. “Galahad Galahad Galahad, what a mighty fine horse you have. Almost as visibly pleasing as yourself...” Eyla laughed softly, and several beautiful curls fell about her face. She released one side of her skirts and lifted her finger to her mouth, sucking the nail softly. “Don’t you dare let me distract you from your brooding, I find it quite attractive...” |
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| golden_trillium | May 18 2010, 02:19 AM Post #29 |
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Author: Pinkie Date: Mon Nov 03, 2008 5:08 pm Galahad Galahad was entirely unaware that he was being watched. He lifted one foot to stirrup and paused, placing a hand on his side to test the wound there. All the brushing and effort that had gone into shining the horse's coat had not pulled the wound loose, it would be a mighty shame if mounting his horse did. The young knight placed his foot back on the ground and went around the other side. He lifted his foot again and this time it felt a little better on his side. He placed a hand to the pommel of the saddle and huffed in a breath in preparation to hefting himself up into the saddle when someone spoke, quite taking him by surprise.
The young knight glanced over his shoulder, hand and foot still to saddle, and looked across the hazy arena to the speaker. He narrowed his eyes, the pale, noon-day sun scouring through the haze of dust-motes to create a fog between him and her. He knew it wasn't Alina and for that he was grateful. He had no desire to face his estranged woman right now. For a moment he thought perhaps it was Darya as he had seen her outside a moment ago - but no, the tone was all wrong. And what she said was entirely unlike Darya. Galahad felt his cheeks give a boyish blush at the compliment and he frowned even deeper. When she told him not to let her distract him from his brooding he became even more ruddy and indignant. "I'm not brooding." he muttered petulantly, shrugging off her looks and turned back to the horse. He went to lift himself into the saddle but it tugged his side wound something terrible and cursed under his breath as his booted foot hit the floor again. Gritting his teeth, aware that his movements were being watched by some stranger woman, Galahad steeled himself to pain as he pulled hismelf into the saddle - third time lucky. Once atop the grey, she gave a few firm stomps, dancing sideways as Galahad gathered the reins and clicked his tongue in mild rebuke to her way-ward movements. The grey stilled but flared her nostrils in mild displeasure. Galahad was side on to the woman who had spoken to him so he turned his head to look at her, leaning his head forward to try make her out. A cloud crossed the sun and lessened the foggy effect of the dust motes, allowing Galahd to see who it was who spoke to him. And yet he did not know her still. "Who are you? How do you know my name?" he asked each stupid question in a surly tone, knowing the answers already. She's a whore and she knows your name because you are one of Arthur's Sarmatian knights you witless imbecile, the Sarmatian chastised himself. He cleared his throat and his nose twitched in mild annoyance when he realised he was just setting himself up to be mocked by her for had she not already taken to teasing him about his horse, his apperance and his mood? "Go away." he said finally, bowing his head and turning his horse around, tugging the reins lightly to lead the beast in a circle at a slow walk. |
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| golden_trillium | May 18 2010, 02:20 AM Post #30 |
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Author: TwistOfShadows Date: Mon Nov 03, 2008 5:57 pm Eyla Eyla watched the knight carefully, awaiting any hint of his preferences. She could not deny her excitement, because this was her favourite moment. It was now that she discovered what they wanted, and how they liked it. The whore lived for the anticipation, the tension that surrounded her encounters with men. The tension was more memorable than the deed. And it did not take long to seduce a man, because Eyla knew she was beautiful. Her hair was curled around her small and pretty face, and her lashes were long and sultry. She pulled her lips into a sweetened smile, and sucked her fingertip gently, provocatively. The rafters above them darkened her skin into a golden silk, and the dust flittered down between them onto the ground. It was a perfect setting, and Eyla was enjoying herself. Her raised skirts allowed the sight of her shapely and tanned legs, but her eyes retained a mischievous innocence. She was cheeky, but ever playful... Galahad turned, and Eyla smiled still. She spoke...and he...blushed? Oh, but it was a lovely thing, and Eyla’s lips widened into a greater smile. It was her job to please another, and she did it well. The Knight continued frowning, but she cared not. Men were more miserable than women, no? Galahad had the shadow of death hanging over his every deed, and he wasn’t a free man. Terrible, just terrible. Eyla almost sympathised with his plight, almost. It was his own fault for being caught in Rome’s net, but Eyla was there to make the experience more rewarding. She offered a warm bed, pleasure for a price...and it must certainly make a change from bloodshed and smelly horses...
Galahad turned back to his horse, and Eyla dropped her skirts. Well, he wasn’t phased by her good looks and charm then? Pity. The whore parted her lips to speak, but paused. The knight did not mount his horse easily, and Eyla found herself giving a pitiful stare. He wouldn’t be much use in battle like that! Did Arthur know? She could tell him, but that would be cruel. No, she would play the...caring type. Yes, perhaps that would be more appealing to the grumpy ones...
Go Away? Eyla could not help it, she laughed. Her lips parted in joyful indignance, and she watched the knight walk his horse around her. Rejection was oddly exciting, especially when she knew he was just being stubborn. The woman stood up taller, seemingly unphased by his attitude towards her. She raked a thin hand through her hair, mussing it up and still smiling towards him. She lifted an admonitory finger in his direction, and tutted loudly. “You don’t mean that. And if you do? You have offended me greatly, and I shall stay until I learn how I displease you...” Eyla smiled, and winked playfully at the moody knight. Without hesitation, she approached him on his horse. She turned and walked alongside horse and rider, and spoke again, completely cheerfully. Her face was animated as she spoke, and she lifted her hands with each word. “My name is Eyla, but you can call me whatever you like. Whatever pleases you.” She smiled up at him, and giggled again. “And you are Galahad of Sarmatia. I know this, because I am a friend of your Commander’s. Therefore you must be nice to me!” Eyla spoke playfully, rebuking his ill manners and attempting this strange friendship. She did not use Arthur as a bargaining chip, no, quite the opposite. Eyla wanted to wipe that frown from his moody little forehead, and she would work for it. Happily. “Tell me Galahad, what makes you so miserable that you turn me away without giving me a chance? I feel unwanted!” Eyla mocked upset, pressing a hand to her heart... |
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