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December 2008
Topic Started: May 28 2010, 01:27 PM (2,118 Views)
golden_trillium

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golden_trillium

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Author: Darya
Date: Mon Dec 01, 2008 12:38 pm
Darya


Tatiana
 
I did when I was younger, yes. I'd go out with my
father and cousins and help them bring back the spoils
from the hunt. I haven't as yet, but when I get some
free time from the stables, I'll prolly go out with
Orion along with my bow and arrows and see if I've
remembered what my father taught me in regards to
hunting. Its been quite a while since I've hunted
there's a good possibility that my first time back out
there will be like being out there for the first time
all over again. How about you, Darya, do you hunt?"


Darya hesitated with her answer. Of course she had been taught
to hunt. The skills and knowledge of the hunt was crucial to
survive in the wilderness of Sarmatia. Or rather…had been. She
had been hunting with her father…but also with Tristan and her
cousin Sinan. And Jarek of course, Tristan’s younger brother.
Not always successful…but they had always had a good time. The
memories of those moments were still quite vivid in her
mind…simply because she refused to bury them deep down in her
subconscious. Like a certain First Knight preferred to do. No,
the female Sarmatian wanted to keep those few memories she had
from her home alive. It was incredibly painful at times…but it
also kept her sane. As much as this was possible after all
Rome had put her and her people through.

So did she hunt? Well, she had done this even on this
miserable little island called Britain. In a way. Just that it
had been people she had hunted down and killed. Not animals.
The only thing those two ways of hunting had in common
was…survival. Her survival and that of those who had been
close to her. Yet since the dark-haired had managed to escape
her former Fortress and its Commander, she had never even
wasted a single thought on any kind of hunting anymore. Until
now.

“I…”, Darya then finally attempted a reply, “…hunting is…part
of my people’s nature. It is…was…necessary to guarantee the
survival of the tribe.” The woman gave Tatiana a wry smile;
yet it did not really reach her dark eyes. “I haven’t been…on
a hunt in a while though”, she then added before hiding her
face by lifting the mug to her lips once more to drink the
last bit of tea left in it. She took her time in doing
so…trying to keep her emotions under control. At least that
seemed to work… “But I think it would be good for you to get
out and around a bit…”, the Sarmatian then continued after
having cleared her throat slightly, “…to see more than just
the stables. A little hunt sounds like a plan…though maybe you
should not go alone. At least not as so long as the situation
with the Woads is not settled…” Only now did the dark-haired
meet the girl’s gaze again, hoping that Tatiana understood how
very serious she was about the last words…

Tatiana
 
"The tavern is such a popular place to be at, Darya. It
sure it is a warm place to be in, though, especially
since its cold but nice outside."


A slight smirk crossed Darya’s lips for a moment. “And it’s
usually quite crowded in here, too…”, she mused, “…and
certainly not as nice and rather quiet as it is right now when
the men have one more found a reason to get drunk. But that
might as well just be my opinion…”, pausing briefly, the
female Sarmatian allowed her gaze to scan the tavern again,
which was indeed comparatively empty and quiet at the moment,
“depends on whether or not you enjoy being among lots of more
or less sane people…”
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golden_trillium

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Author: Pinkie
Date: Mon Dec 01, 2008 5:18 pm
Galahad


Tayala
 
"Will you please stop calling yourself that, sir
Knight. You're not a slave, at least not in my eyes
you're not."


Was she for real?!

Galahad's strong hands were making swift, long swipes against
his horse's grey coat. At her terse tone Galahad stopped. He
looked over at the girl with burning blue flames in his eyes.
Just who the hell was this girl and why did she think that
because she didn't perceive him as a slave that he wasn't just
that? The Knight had been in too many scrapes, he had admitted
to himself too many flaws to ever consider himself to be 'sir
knight'.

Tayala
 
"I'm braiding her mane in the same reason like you brush
her coat, to make her pretty and there's gotta be a
place in Sarmatia that you were born in, isn't there?
Cause I've never heard of the place that you just told
me about, Galahad. Not in two million years."


The Sarmatian felt his resolve weaken. He felt his sanity
slip, surely! His wide, blue eyes were pathetic now as he
stared at the child. His gaze drifted defeatedly to her
fingers flicking the horse's mane and twisting it into a neat
and girly braid and the Knight sighed. He shook his head,
curly dark hair brushing his forehead. The Knight took a deep,
deep breath and held it. He looked down at his bare foot and
lifted his big, blackening toe off the ground, peering at it
with morbid curiosity. Luckily the calllouses on his heel
prevented any cold from really penetrating his body.

Galahad was just giving up on reasoning with Tayala, the fight
gone out of him. He wasn't going to tell her where in Sarmatia
he was from. It didn't matter one little difference what part
it was. It was all the same for any boys from anywhere in
Sarmatia. What did it matter what part he came from then?
Surly, tired and brow-beaten by a teenager, Galahad puffed out
his cheeks and ceased brushing. He reached a hand forward to
the grey's ears and rubbed the velvety fur gently.

Tayala
 
"By the way, my Aunt Tatiana is a good practical joker.
She's told me about the pranks that she used to play
when she was my age, before she started her
Apprenticeship as a stable-hand. I bet that if I asked
her too..she could still pull a good one off and get you
to crack a smile if not a full-blown laugh at it. That's
what you definetly need, sir Knight. When was the last
time that you really laughed or cracked a smile,
Galahad? Are you ticklish? That might work even better."


Galahad sunk in against the horse. Oh how he wanted to just
ignore Tayala's teasing comments but he found it nearly
impossible to do that. Her chattering was sapping him of his
energy and yet there was something infinitely light about it
too, something relieving about the mundane things she
addressed.

She, unlike his friends, would not ask after Alina, she would
not ask awkward questions and make him squirm as he tried not
to recall that heartache.

"Laughed? Ticklish... what... what are you talking about
girl?" he asked sullenly, shaking his head with rueful
admiration for her flightish conversation. He reached out and
took old of her wrist, trailing his hand up to her fingers and
stilled them about the horse's hair, holding them there as he
looked at her.

"She doesn't need to look pretty, only horsey. She just needs
to be healthy and happy - and she is both. Haven't you got
something better to do with your time than stand around trying
my patience, hmm?" he asked, but his heart and venom was not
in it. He just sounded, and looked, tired. And pitiful - with
one bare foot on the gruond, toes curled into the fresh straw
she had strewn earlier.
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golden_trillium

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Author: Lancelot
Date: Mon Dec 01, 2008 8:10 pm
Lancelot


Lancelot's eyes narrowed at Derfel's pregnancy joke - he knew
the other man didn't know just how many women he was referring
to. Especially the only one that mattered - the one he'd have
to care for should Arthur end up being sliced and diced by the
Magician. The one who carried the future of Artorius Castus
and his fucking glory inside her - the one whom Lancelot
called kin.

Derfel
 
“Wha? What’s that one doing back here?"


The Saxon returned to the main room of the small home; he was
mostly dressed but still held his weapons, belt and coat in
his hands. Lancelot shook his head, ignoring the ache in his
wounded arm and his blacked eye. "You take longer getting
ready than any woman I've ever had the misfortune to wake next
to. Hadrian's balls - " he sighed. "I don't know what the hell
the commander was thinking, allowing the Woad to stay here,"
he added, finally commenting on Derfel's mention of Neeria.
"His giant, squishy soft heart had something to do with it,
I'd wager." He tapped at his teeth with a dirty fingernail,
his arms crossed over his slender chest - Lancelot was
deceptive in his appearance to most. Reed thin, small frame,
fae shape - he would guess (mostly correctly) he was the most
adept and dangerous of Arthur's knights; size didn't matter in
his case. Derfel and Dagonet and Bors might be large and
intimidating physically, but turn your back on the first
knight and you might as well kiss your head goodbye.

The lithe and incongruous foxes that lived in the woods near
Badon and the Sarmatian had a lot more in common than Lancelot
would care to admit. Least of all his current stink.

Lancelot's eyes swung to the door as a noise dragged his focus
there; the thing opened and a blond stepped into the
apartment, her gaze ticking from Derfel with concern to
Lancelot with ... either shock, or curiosity, he couldn't tell
which.

Linnesse
 
“Derfel…I just wanted to see if you were feeling
better... Sir, I could make you a poultice for that,”


Ah, the Saxon's woman. She was a healer, if Lancelot
remembered correctly, and the ... sister? Yes! He remembered
her now. The sister of Dagonet's son's widow. His dry lips
widened in what he hoped was a charming smile as she dropped a
pretty if perfunctory curtsey.

"No formalities needed, lady," he answered, trying not to
frown as she immediately latched on to his obvious black eye.
"And don't worry about me. This will be fine," he cut his gaze
to Derfel. "I'm waiting on your ... husband, there, who
happens to be as slow as Arth- most of us in getting ready."
His smile glittered sharply as he turned his whip-like body to
face the other man. "I'll wait outside, knight," he bit off.
"Be there in two minutes."

He passed by the couple, but stopped before he exited the
home. "Lady...Linnesse, was it? If you make me that poultice,
I'll come get it from you later. Hrm?"

She's a pretty thing, if pale. I have to wonder - damn Cadarn!

Not my home. Not what I want for myself.

No.
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golden_trillium

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Author: Pinkie
Date: Tue Dec 02, 2008 10:57 am
Catherine


Malcus
 
"Lay back,"


Catherine did as she was bid. She lay back onto her bent
elbows, propping her body up a little as she smiled down at
him. His warm arm slid under her knee and she poitned her toes
downwards, creating a beautiful, slender line from her knee to
toe. The woman cocked an eyebrow at him and bit the edge of
her lip, barely suppressing her smile of anticipation.

It was so easy to be a whore!

It was so easy to be the vessel for a man's pleasure when
men's pleasures were so uncomplicated, so simple and so
obvious. All he wanted, all he needed was for her to part her
thighs for a short time, to throw her head back and moan her
pleasure, to allow her body to feel it's own pleasure and he
would then be satisfied.

Oh it was easy to be a whore!

The blonde did not necessarily think her position was a lowly
one - she had a rather flippant attitude to sex. It was
somethign she could do for a man, like a woman could mend or
make a cloak, like another woman could cook a meal or create a
blanket which she would then sell to a man. Catherine could
create pleasure. She was gifted to do thus. Her only pitfall
was her awkward attitude to accepting money for these
pleasures...

These thoughts trickled through her mind as she looked down at
the Captain's curly dark hair as he lowered his face to her
crotch. The woman closed her eyes before his tongue ever made
contact with her moist flesh. She tipped her head back, the
thin tendons in her neck standing out as she delighted in his
knowledgeable caress. The caress was shortlived and Catherine
bobbed her head forward again, giving the Captain a dazed
smile. He was standing straight now, looking at her as he
pressed the head of his cock against her opening. The woman
gave a short hiss of pleasure as he slid inside of her and she
tipped her head back again.

Soft, blonde tendrils brushed the pale skin between her
shoulder blades as he thrust inside of her. The feel of him
was familiar - his hand on her hip, the other reached out to
greedily hold her breast. Catherine moaned once and left her
beautiful lips parted, her face awash with pleasure as she
looked at Barbattus -

Malcus
 
"Gods Catherine, you feel so good, my lady, Do I please
the lady?"


His body curved in around her, his broad shoulders shadowing
her pale body as he bucked his hips. Catherine defied his
earlier order and sat forward, draping an arm around his neck
and clawing her nails against his strong shoulder. Not enough
to hurt, but enough to perhaps leave a mark. She smiled at his
intense expression, the indescribable joy that he was feeling
from the heat and safety of her body. The whore shut her eyes
and brushed her nose against his cheek, lazily trailing her
lips against his trembling jaw.

"Yes..." she whispered to him, her lips softly enclosing his
ear loeb as she tugged gently. Their chests were close
together and Catherine, feeling the Captain's mounting
pleasure, leaned in more, crushing her lithe body against his
warrior's torso. She bucked her hips, clashing their bodies
against each other with every thrust and hooked her heel in
under his firm buttocks.

"Yes - please me." the woman ordered in a whisper, baring her
teeth to his ear now, nipping down the strong vein along the
side of his neck.

"Yes!" her voice rose to a crescendo on the affirmative,
feeling the man's body tense just before he filled her with
his hot seed. Catherine smiled against his neck but continued
bucking her hips, her own pleasure just a caress away. When
the dizzying orgasm started to ebb she gave a hoarse chuckle,
melting little kisses along his jaw and neck, her hips just
rocking lazily now.

"The brute pleases the lady... whoever would have thought that
to be the end of the fairytale, hm?" Catherine teased sweetly,
nudging her nose against his chin, breathing in the masculine
scent of his skin.









Drake and Mari

Drake wiped a hand down his face. The callouses on his mucky
palm made alot of noise against his dark beard. His dropped
his hand to the counter top and drummed his fingers bluntly
against the wood, glancing to the side at the man sitting down
from him. He gave him a stiff but courteous nod and looked
down the other end of the bar, seeking the wench who had gone
off to get him his wine. She was taking an awful long time
about it. The Spaniard hmphed the attention of another wench
and sent her off to find the first one and to bring him back a
chunk of bread as well.

It was taking alot of effort not to turn around to look at
Linnette. Not to be nosy - but simply out of habit, to make
sure she wasn't in danger from herself or someone else. Habit
- or malfunction? The Spaniard snorted cynically at his own
dreary thoughts as the wench returned. He gave a harumph and
baleful stare as she apologised for taking so long. She placed
the amphora on the counter and the bread atop it. Drake slid
the coins across the counter but did not wait for her to count
it or offer him change before turning.

His glance was a cursory one, left to right and then he ducked
his head, striding with heavy footfalls towards the door. As
he passed Linnette's table he thought of continuing to walk on
pretending not to see her for fear she would think him some
strange man who followed her wherever she went. But how could
he do that?

How many opportunities did he have to look upon her in public
without her sister glaring or her sister's husband glaring?




Linnette
 
“I don’t have any idea. She died a long time ago- she
didn’t live here, He needs someone happy, though,
“Someone who can…cheer him up a little,”


Mari didn't form negative opinions on people. She was always
willing to talk to someone even if they did not appear overtly
friendly. She was always willing to give people the benefit of
the doubt, even if they did look like they were nursing a sore
tooth or harbouring a festering temper, much like Drake did.
It wasn't that he was unfriendly looking - he just ... he just
seemed to bluntly defy anything that was smiling or cheery. He
looked dangerous, Mari thought to herself as she caught
another view of the side of his face.

Linnette
 
“I don’t have any idea. She died a long time ago- she
didn’t live here, He needs someone happy, though,
Someone who can…cheer him up a little,”


Mari had a piece of bread in her hands. She was thumbing it
between the pads of her fingers, softening it and rolling it
as she listened with intense sadness to Linnette's telling of
what she knew of the man's wife. Her brown eyes widened and
her eyebrows lifted in genuine sympathy as the other woman
explained that his wife was dead a long time. She glanced over
towards the man and popped the rolled up bit of bread into her
mouth, waiting to see him better when he turned. And when he
did shel ooked down quickly.

He did not look old enough to have a wife long dead, Mari
thought to herself. But then, her own father didn't look old
enough to have the mother of his child long dead either. Quite
suddenly Mari wanted to know all about this Drake fella - she
wanted to know why he had come to Badon Hill, what he did
there and why he had never remarried in all the years since
his wife died. She turned her honest brown eyes back to
Linnette and saw the sadness written there as the woman
explained her ideal for Drake.

Guiltily Mari looked down at the papers she was going to use
to draw Linnette's dead husband and she sighed. Absently she
reached across to gently touch a soothing hand to the back of
Linnette's...



"Linnette." Drake murmured gruffly in greeting as he passed her
table. He did not even look at the other girl at the table
though he did recognise her as the one who was raped a couple
of nights ago. It somehow did not startle or surprise Drake
that Linnette was sitting down with the girl - probaby tending
to her hurt dignity and shredded confidence, the Spaniard
presumed. His fiery green eyes took in all things about
Linnette in that brief moment and before he even blinked he
had walked past her, his now stony eyes fixed on the door. The
amphora sloshed at his side.

Pushing open teh door, the old soldier stood framed by the
grey sunlight a moment before stepping down and into the cold,
the tavern door clunking shut behind him. He stalked across
the courtyard towards the stables and picked up his sack of
supplies from where he had unceremoniously dumped it outside
the stables on his way to the tavern. He slung it over his
shoulder and hulked on towards the fortress, glancing down at
the rabbits for dinner on his hip.




Mari jumped.

The deep rumble of his voice had been quite unexpected. She
gave a start and looked up at him as he walked by in
undisguised fascination. She then looked back at Linnette with
a gentle smile.

"I'm sure you'll find just the person, Linnette. And I am sure
she will be as lovely and sweet as you are too. I don't think
he realises quite how lucky he is to have a friend like you to
look out for him." Mari said in a hushed tone of voice,
smiling with hope burning in her eyes. She skooched forwrad on
her seat and glanced over towards teh door where Drake had
gone. She looked back at Linnette and shrugged one small
shoulder.

"So, so far we need someone pretty, someone strong - and
someone who can cheer him up. That doesn't sound so hard does
it?" she grinned impishly, trying to levitate the mood, not
wanting to see Linnette upset as she had been before.







Smith

A few woads followed Smith towards Merlin's hut. They knew
better than to ask him for news when he strode with such
purpose. No-one at the village was close enough to him to
stand beside him as he delivered the report to Merlin either -
and so he stood alone at their leader's hut door, head bent as
he listened for the man inside. Footsteps. Smith looked up and
the door opened. He inclined his head to the woad leader and
then met his direct gaze without flinching. Smith was loyal to
a fault - he did not bear any personal grudges against hte
Romans for any wrongs done to him alone - he just wanted his
country to be free. He wanted his people to be free.
Merlin, he knew, was the means to that end and so because of
that he followed the elderly man without question.

Merlin
 
"Smith...back so soon? The Romans? Are they coming?"


The young woad's handsome face was brightened by a wry smile
at Merlin's initial, blase question. He took a deep breath and
stepped back as Merlin stepped forward. He looked back at his
horse adn then to his leader who was reaching for his dagger.
Smith shook his head and extended his hand but did not touch
the other woad, merely let his hand linger over Merlin's a
moment before he spoke -

"Guinevere is bringing Arthur to treat with you. We met them
on our way to bury the dead. They are ten, eleven in number.
Romans and two Sarmatians." the man's words were carefully
chosen to give Merlin a precise and short assessment of what
had transpired and what was to come - he informed him that the
Romans were not attacking, that Guinevere had offered them
some kind of hositlities truce by bringing Arthur thre, he had
informed Merlin that they had yet to bury the dead and he also
told the leader how many men to expect, and of what training.

Licking his lips, Smith glanced back the way he had come and
puffed out a breath.

"They will be a while in getting here. I rode as fast as I
could." the man did not make any mention of his concern that
Arthur would be shown the way to their hidden village - if
Merlin wished it he would order Smith to ride back and halt
Guinevere, or he would order Smith to give him the horse and
he would ride out to meet Arthur before he ever got any
closer. As it was, the yound woad stood tall and strong,
waiting for his leader's order on what to do next, his brown
eyes glinting with intensity, vibrant in the heat of the
moment.
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golden_trillium

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Author: Elessars Girl
Date: Tue Dec 02, 2008 12:36 pm
Derfel


Lancelot
 
"You take longer getting ready than any woman I've ever
had the misfortune to wake next to. Hadrian's balls - I
don't know what the hell the commander was thinking,
allowing the Woad to stay here. His giant, squishy soft
heart had something to do with it, I'd wager."


Ah yes, Arthur’s renown kindness towards all. Derfel had been
quite fortunate himself to have been the recipient of the
Commander’s charitable and just nature. Thank the gods for
Arthur’s personal involvement in the mission to rescue
Linnesse from the Villa – otherwise Derfel would not be here
at all; no doubt would have been cut down on sight by none
other than the man standing before him right now. It had been
Arthur's generosity that had spared Derfel then and Arthur's
trust that had earned Derfel his freedom and the chance to
redeem himself.

Derfel opened his mouth – obviously without thinking of the
consequences – to say something cutting about Lancelot’s
undermining of Arthur’s motives when the First Knight’s hard
assessing gaze was suddenly drawn away….Derfel had been far
too focused on Lancelot’s astringent words to hear the soft
sounds of someone tapping at the door.

He followed the direction of Lancelot’s gaze to find the door
to the apartment opening and Linnesse entering the room.

Linnesse
 
“Derfel…I just wanted to see if you were feeling
better,”


“I am, luv…” Derfel murmured to his love; unable to suppress
an affectionate smile for Linnesse despite the present company
and the duty he faced. Linnesse’s nose and cheeks were tinged
with color no doubt due to the chill in the air outside. He
knew that she had little tolerance for the icy weather of the
winter months. But the smile that had filled Derfel’s
expression dimmed as his lover gave a very cordial bow to
Lancelot. And the smug smile that now dominated the
Sarmatian’s angular features nearly had Derfel scowling. His
fingers flexed in their grip on his weapons and overcoat.

Linnesse
 
“Sir…..I could make you a poultice for that,”


Linnesse’s instincts as a healer were what surely drove her in
offering to give aid to Lancelot. But Derfel still did not
have to like it. The thought of his lover actually touching
the other man made Derfel’s gut instantly knot up. He shifted
his overcoat to drape over his shoulder so that he could reach
out for Linnesse when his lover stepped closer. And as
Lancelot answered, Derfel’s now free hand slid affectionately
- possessively - around Linnesse’s tiny waist.

Lancelot
 
"No formalities needed, lady. And don't worry about me.
This will be fine, I'm waiting on your ... husband,
there, who happens to be as slow as Arth- most of us in
getting ready….."


Derfel could not help it; he rolled his eyes at Lancelot even
as his fingers gently squeezed reassuringly at Linnesse’s hip.
The young knight had gotten himself together rather quickly in
his opinion. But Lancelot had said one thing that Derfel had
actually welcomed – he’d refered to the knight as Linnesse’s
‘husband’. That brought on a proud smile even as Lancelot’s
angry eye…eyes….became once again fixed sternly on Derfel’s
scruffy expression. Although they had not properly been wed
yet, as long as the Sarmatian recognized the fact that
Linnesse was indeed NOT a woman that Lancelot could toy with
then Derfel was content.

Lancelot
 
I'll wait outside, knight. Be there in two minutes…..
Lady...Linnesse, was it? If you make me that poultice,
I'll come get it from you later. Hrm?"


“I’ll be right there to do my duty….and I’ll see to it ye get
that poultice meself, aye?” Derfel added with a lopsided and
friendly grin that did not quite reach his blue eyes. Oh he
was awake now for sure and determined to shield Linnesse from
any further exposure to Lancelot if he could help it. Besides,
the Sarmatian had an odor about him the rivaled that of the
sows in the yard behind the stables. Of course Derfel wasn’t
in much better shape himself…he’d not had the time for a
proper bath and shave today on account of his need to sleep
off the ill effects of too much ale the night before. Ah well.

“I’ve been ordered to guard some prisoner,” Derfel explained
to Linnesse with a sheepish grin the moment Lancelot passed on
out of the apartment. “And Lancelot seems to be in a rush
about it,” He further commented with a hint of annoyance at
the manner of the First Knight’s means of carrying out the
Commander’s orders.

Derfel then bent to place a light kiss on Linnesse’s forhead.
Her pale skin was still chilled despite the flush in her
cheeks. And Derfel truly wished that he had more time here to
see to his lover's needs. But no doubt Lancelot would be after
him with a pointed weapon beyond his sharp tongue should
Derfel linger now.

“Not sure how long I’ll be, luv…you warm enough?” He asked
with concern prevalent in his tone. Linnesse was still
recovering from an illness and Derfel would prefer that his
lover would remain here, safe and warm, while he was at his
duties.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: LadyCastus
Date: Tue Dec 02, 2008 1:00 pm
Neeria


Neeria swiped her dirty hair from her eyes and looked at the
clothes Vanora held out for her to try on. The woad was
particularly drawn to the doe-skinned boots. She reached out a
dirty hand - the nails embedded with filth and grime - and
took the items from Vanora.

Vanora
 
"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... Yes. I think they will do nicely. As long as you
can get use from them, Neeria, then you are welcome to
them. 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. 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."


Neeria looked over at Neeve with dark, child-like eyes. She
doubted the healer would allow such a thing. Neeve was still
brooding and it was obvious she was not happy with the whole
situation.

"Well, maybe." Neeria replied. "I am, after all, still a
prisoner. I doubt my warden would allow such a thing," she
added, giving Neeve a smirk just to press her buttons. The
woad believed she was beginning to enjoy poking at the healer
and stifled a chuckle.

Neeve
 
“Why don’t you try the new clothes on, Neeria…to see if
they fit?”


Neeria looked down at the clothes in her arms. Never before
had she been given such things to wear. Neeria's wardrobe
mainly consisted of leather loin cloths and trousers and
breast straps and halters. Sometimes she wore boots but often
she went bare-foot. And even when she did wear boots, they
often weren't as nice as those that Vanora presented.

Neeria dropped the boots to the floor and held the dress up by
the shoulders, turning her head sideways and scrunching up her
nose. Then the woad held the dress up to her chest and kicked
out her leg so that the dress fell smoothly against her
person.

The wild haired dirty woman slung the dress over her arm and
reached down to pull up the large tunic she wore. She raised
her arms and pulled and tugged until she got the big garment
over her head. Glad to be free from the filthy garment, Neeria
quickly tossed it to the floor. Used to being nude in the
company of others, she thought nothing of baring her firm
perfect breasts in front of the other women. Her olive skin
glistened in the dim light of the fireplace, her dark nipples
perky.

Next, she unhooked her trousers and let them fall to her
ankles, stepping out them and kicking them aside. Of course
she wore no breeches and was unabashed at the thick bush of
dark hair between her legs. Neeria took the garment Vanora had
given her and pulled it over her head, not sure about what she
was doing at all. She eventually figured out where to put her
arms and let the dress fall down her small, well toned body.

She looked like a child in a potato sack. The dress swallowed
the petite woman whole.

Feeling odd and completely out her depth of understanding, the
woad bit her bottom lip and looked at the other women.

"Does it make me a lady?" she asked, wide eyed.

She tugged at the front of the dress and looked down, straight
through to the floor. Then Neeria looked at Vanora with a
frown on her face.

"My teets are not as big as yours to hold it in place," she
said flatly, cupping her breasts and lifting them up higher.

"But I like it!" Then she bent over and belly laughed.
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Author: TwistOfShadows
Date: Tue Dec 02, 2008 3:08 pm
Guinevere


Guinevere could feel Arthur’s warmth. His thick cloak
surrounded her small blue body, and its soft material stroked
against her outer thighs. The Woad breathed softly through her
nose, and closed her eyes momentarily. Arthur’s firm
breastplate supported her back, and she felt...comfortable.
Unthreatened. She could feel his warm breath beside her ear,
and she melted into it. Oh, the Woad princess was used to the
cold. The temperamental British weather was something she
loved, and would fight to preserve. The woman had dwelt in
deeper snow, and endured hard rain, and she hoped Rome
suffered in it. It was however, a fertile land. It produced
crop and it created strong men and women...and Rome sought to
steal that. Guinevere and her people represented an infallible
strength, and she took pride in it. Her eyes looked at the
Optio, and she mocked him with their dark depths. Her full
mouth was pouted, and there was a challenge in her gaze. If
the Optio had returned alone and without the aid of Arthur
Castus...then he would have been a dead man. Guinevere would
have ordered it so. She did not deal with cowardice...nor
Romans in general. Arthur was an interesting exception, and
his British mother granted him leverage...

Arthur
 
“I regret that I was detained in meeting with your
father,” The man is not a fool, only inexperienced in
the ways of your people. Why don’t you tell me what
happened yesterday, hm?”


Guinevere turned back to look at Arthur, and her black eyes
glittered in the dull sunlight. If she had moved closer, their
noses would have touched. She parted her lips in
contemplation, and gazed into the emerald depths of his eyes.
Oh, he saw everything. Guinevere did not doubt it. There was
an intelligent mind behind those severe eyes, and Guinevere
saw herself reflected back in them. The woman breathed an
amused laugh from her warm lips, and brushed a hand upwards
into her dark hair. Several loose curls fell from their binds,
and tickled softly around her face. She was pretty, striking
with vehemence, but there was more to Guinevere. More
substance, more fibre, more indignance and intellect than most
Romans could understand. She was born to lead, and to serve
the British cause.

“Why? So you can ask your God to forgive his inexperience and
allow him to place the blame upon us? Savages?” Guinevere’s
tone was soft, lazy, and a slight smile touched her mouth. She
was amused by Arthur’s question. Surely the Optio had lied
about the encounter...and been allowed to approach again?
Pointing the blame would achieve nothing, and so Guinevere
laughed. It was a quiet sound, but one that shared nothing.
She reached forwards and rested one hand over the top of
Arthur’s. It was a friendly gesture. His hands were freezing.
She spoke again, tilting her head to the side. “Make no
mistake, if you were not sharing his company...the man would
be dead now. You have come to save his dignity, no doubt? And
I have come to make sure you aren’t killed before your
audience with my father...”

Guinevere moved her fingers over his, attempting to massage
the feeling back into his hands. She felt his rough skin
against hers, the solid line of his impressive knuckles, and
she kneaded them strongly, encouraging heat. The Woad looked
down at his hands, and spoke again. “Your hands are freezing.”
She spoke impassively, directly.
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Author: Starbelle
Date: Tue Dec 02, 2008 3:28 pm

Tayala


Galahad
 
"Laughed? Ticklish... what... what are you talking about
girl?" "She doesn't need to look pretty, only horsey.
She just needs to be healthy and happy - and she is
both. Haven't you got something better to do with your
time than stand around trying my patience, hmm?"


Seeing that one of her hands was free, Tayala decided to show
him just what exactly it was that she was talking about, she
just hoped that he was ticklish.

"This is what I'm talking about, sir Knight." Tayala said
while walking as close to him as possible, and looking up into
his sad blue eyes once, let out a sad sigh of her own before
she used her tiny fingers to playfully explain what it was
that she was talking about. Stretching her arm to give herself
a bit more agility that left her body open and defenseless, in
case he decided to get her back in the same way while she was
occupied to help her with her little plan. Locating his
underarm, stomach and sides with her tiny hand, Tayala let
loose a one-handed tickle session on those areas of his body
that she could reach and tried her best, by standing on tiptoe
and slightly arching her lithe form to reach those areas that
were slightly out of her range of fire.

This has got to work on him as I can't stand him to be so
upset and sad like he is.

While she tickled him, she spoke again. "She can look both
pretty and horsey, you know? A horse can be both, just like a
Knight can be both a powerful warrior and a friend. There's no
need to choose, let her be both..just like you can be,
Galahad."

"No, not really as all my chores are done and once that
happens, the remaining time is mine to do with as I please and
I like being around you."Tayala said with a nod while keeping
up with her playful game.
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Author: Elessars Girl
Date: Tue Dec 02, 2008 5:18 pm
Arthur


Guinevere’s coal black eyes were upon him again. But her
curious stare had no real effect on Arthur, at least not under
these circumstances. Nor did he read any threat in her honest
and confident expression. But Arthur had no doubt that
Guinevere’s gaze sought whatever valuable thing(s) she could
learn from him as they rode on towards her father. And the
woman could see whatever she wished in the depths of his
liquid green eyes as well, if that was indeed what she sought.
Arthur had no secrets in regards to his purpose this day. And
Guinevere should know that he was a man of his word. And
Arthur had been clear in that which he sought – peace.

But one thing was for certain; the man’s true heart lay far
too deep for anyone to examine so easily these days. Lancelot
had shattered what was once a strong and powerful thing
beating for all the world to see – Darya had attempted to be
the salve, repair what once was….but what was broken could not
be mended. So be it. A flicker of emotion illuminated the
golden flakes within Arthur’s emerald eyes if only for a
moment…..but as his gaze ticked to the snow covered path
before them, the Roman’s psychological armour only
strengthened its grip around his heart.

Guinevere
 
“Why? So you can ask your God to forgive his
inexperience and allow him to place the blame upon us?
Savages?”


The lady had apparently found the question amusing despite the
Roman having asked it in earnest. No matter.

Arthur’s only response was a snort of contempt at her use of
the word ‘savage’. And due to their close proximity, his
reaction appeared to disturb the long tendrils of hair that
framed her face with the exhale of his breath. Of course
Guinevere had accurately guessed the rest – the Roman had
prayed for God’s forgiveness in regards to the failures of
both he and his men. But he did not blame the Woads or his
officers….oh no, Arthur blamed only himself for the breakdown
of yesterdays peace talks with Merlin.

And then Arthur felt long elegant fingers and the soft fleshy
palm of her hand press over his large hand where it rested
flat against Guinevere’s stomach. What did Merlin’s daughter
wish to gain by this little act of intimacy? Arthur knew that
Guinevere did not fear him nor had their ‘relationship’ ever
been anything but one of strained and curious friendship – yet
she was toying with him now. Why? Perhaps it was only the cold
that pricked at them both skewing everything.

Guinevere
 
“Make no mistake, if you were not sharing his
company...the man would be dead now. You have come to
save his dignity, no doubt? And I have come to make sure
you aren’t killed before your audience with my
father...”


“I have come to make peace with your father. The decorum of
one man is nothing in comparison to the safety of us all…do
you not agree?” Arthur countered with a slight curve of his
mouth. His hand remained still beneath her touch…even as he
felt her thumb caress over his knuckles; her fingers massaging
his and giving away her hidden physical strength in the
movement.

Guinevere
 
“Your hands are freezing.”


“Careful, lady…you may yet convince me that you care,” Arthur
said, his tone mildly caustic and firm gaze shifting once
again to the frozen path ahead.

Arthur had a pair of thick leather gloves packed away in his
saddlebag and certainly he should be making use of their
warmth….but allowing Guinevere this ‘act of kindness’ somehow
seemed logical. He obviously held her captive, thus why not
allow Guinevere to have a sense of control while in Arthur’s
possession. She was nestled snugly between his thighs and half
wrapped in his crimson cloak….she was how Arthur planned to
guarantee the safety of his men. He would sacrifice himself if
need be…but his men would be allowed to return to the
fortress. Arthur did trust that his Optio, who rode close
behind, could get the men back to Badon if need be.
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Author: LadyCastus
Date: Tue Dec 02, 2008 5:24 pm
Rosita and Nolan


Rosita shifted the weight of her quiver into a more
comfortable position on her back as she and Nolan led the
group through the wood. The woman wondered how far out Merlin
would meet them. She didn't think for a moment that their
leader would allow Arthur and the Romans anywhere near the
village. The fact they'd gotten as far as they did meant
Arthur and his party were extremely lucky.

The dark-eyed woad reached down to her hip and grapped the
flask that hung around her waist. She pulled back the plug
with her teeth and raised the skin to her dry lips. The sun
barely peeked out from behind a rapidly moving cloud and the
brisk wind howled through the woods. Rosita took a drink and
wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, then dragged her
hand down the front of her leather pants. She handed the flask
over to Nolan who took it from her and drank his fill before
handing it back. Rosita put the flask back on her hip and
turned around to look at the group.

She rested her eyes on the braided scout for a moment. The
woman didn't trust the Sarmatian at all - even less than she
trusted the Romans. The scout was smart and he knew the
terrain. That combination could be lethal.

Out of the corner of her eye, Rosita noticed sudden movement
in the back of the group. She turned around quickly just as
she saw the youngest Roman dismount and withdraw a dagger.

"They're attacking!" she growled at Nolan and reached around
her back, grabbing her long bow along with an arrow in one
fluid motion. Rosita loaded her weapon and pulled the heavy
string back. She ran toward Brendyn at full speed, lining him
perfectly in her sights.

"Move and you die!" the woad commanded in a calm, steady
voice.

Nolan ran next to Arthur's horse, his sword drawn. If this was
an effort of theirs to attack them, Nolan would protect
Merlin's daughter at all cost - with his own life if it came
to that.

"Guinevere!" he called anxiously. "Get down! It's a trap!"

Nolan glared at Arthur, his nostrils flaring, foaming at the
mouth.

"I knew you weren't to be trusted!" he growled, locking dark
angry eyes with the commander.
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Author: golden_trillium
Date: Tue Dec 02, 2008 9:13 pm
Linnesse


As Linnesse inched closer to Derfel, though she kept her eyes
still rather warily on Lancelot, she felt Derfel’s arm snake
out from beside her and encircle her waist, pulling her in a
little nearer, and though at first she was comforted by it, it
didn’t take her longer than a second to detect something
rather…indignant? possessive?...in the gesture. Why was
he…Linnesse began to shoot a quick questioning glance up at
him, but her attention was drawn back to Lancelot as he spoke
again- his manner courtly, his smile just a little wicked,
evincing all the charm that Linnette had told her the dark
knight possessed.

Lancelot
 
"No formalities needed, lady. And don't worry about me.
This will be fine. I'm waiting on your...husband, there,
who happens to be as slow as Arth- most of us in getting
ready.”


Derfel squeezed her hip proprietarily, and Linnesse looked up
at him again, narrow-eyed, while she lightly but pointedly
bumped her hip against his. Derfel wasn’t…jealous, was he?
Linnesse was at least gratified to feel him relax and see his
stern, uncomfortable expression dissolve into a proud smile
when Lancelot used the word husband. There- that seemed to
have reassured him. Silly- he had nothing to worry about,
anyway.

“I do hope you’ll excuse Derfel, sir- he was ill this morning.
But I’m sure he’s almost ready,” Linnesse murmured, re-using
the title even though she had been assured it was not
necessary- it felt wrong to leave it off when she was begging
his indulgence in this. Her own hand nearest Derfel slid to
the middle of his back, where she spread it out and pressed it
to him reassuringly, feeling the warmth through his shirt and
the hard, bumpy contours of his backbone, rubbing lightly up
and down. She did wonder a bit about the First Knight’s
aborted reference to Arthur- why he would bad-mouth his
superior’s getting-ready habits was a mystery to her- but she
didn’t dwell on it- she was more concerned with defusing the
situation here, if indeed it still needed defusing.

Lancelot
 
”I'll wait outside, knight. Be there in two minutes.
Lady...Linnesse, was it? If you make me that poultice,
I'll come get it from you later. Hrm?"


“Certainly- I’ll be in the infir....” Linnesse, still glued to
Derfel’s side, started to drop another curtsy as she spoke,
but Derfel cut over both her words and her gesture, apparently
preferring a slightly different plan.

Derfel
 
“I’ll be right there to do my duty….and I’ll see to it
ye get that poultice meself, aye?”


Well, all right. Linnesse shrugged, feeling a little defeated,
and stepped back from Derfel’s side as Lancelot left the
apartment, looking up at Derfel curiously and with a hint of
frustration in her eyes, too…he wasn’t honestly worried, was
he?

Derfel
 
“I’ve been ordered to guard some prisoner, and Lancelot
seems to be in a rush about it. Not sure how long I’ll
be, luv…you warm enough?”


“I’ll be fine- it’s warmer in the infirmary,” Linnesse
reassured him easily- though her eyes remained worriedly on
his face and she set her hands on his upper arms, above all
the stuff that he carried, intending on preventing him from
moving away immediately after he had kissed her forehead. She
tilted her head to one side, searching his face shrewdly-
there was concern there, but she couldn’t tell whether it was
just for her warmth, or still for something else, too.

“You do know that Lancelot has absolutely nothing on you,
don’t you?” she murmured, stepping in closer and tipping her
face up to nuzzle her cold nose affectionately against his
much warmer but scratchy chin. Her arms slipped from his and
wound themselves around his waist, and she finished off her
little reassurance with a quick kiss on his lips, standing on
tiptoe to do it.

“At least not with that terrible black eye,” she added
jokingly as she sank down on flat feet again and took a little
step backward, her hands sliding to the sides of his waist.
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Author: lady ione
Date: Tue Dec 02, 2008 9:58 pm
Ione


The visit had been welcomed, and they had not stayed long
insisting that Ione get some rest. They assured her that
they'd be alright for the coming night time, and left the
Weaver's shop for home. Ione stood by the door and looked out
at the people scurrying to and fro with goods, or just talking
about something or other. The sadness in her heart was still
there and very fresh, and though she had tried to avoid it,
there was just no way to do so. She looked back at the
finished cloak on the table, then grabbed her cloak, stepped
outside and locked the door behind her.

Right now, Ione was glad that no one paid much attention to
her as she just wanted to be alone with her thoughts, and to
prepare herself to visit the graves of Accolan and her child,
Ian. Being rather superstitious about visiting graves at
night, Ione wanted to go before it got dark out. With these
thoughts, Ione went to the infirmary to find Sister Margaret
who had been so comforting along with Linnesse during her
miscarriage, and found the nun sitting at a desk working on
some papers.

She turned as Ione approached, "Dear child, should you not be
resting? Your miscarriage only happened a few hours ago, and
you really should rest."

The weaver bowed her head, and whispered, "I would like to
visit Ian's grave as well as the knight Accolan's grave.... do
you know where he is buried?"

"I do, Ione, but we must not stay out too long as it will be
dark soon," She set aside her papers, and arose to put on her
cloak. Ione followed the nun as they left the infirmary and
out to the graveyard beyond the walls of the fort. Sister
Margaret led Ione to a small grave under a young tree that was
about as tall as the weaver. She wished that she had some
flowers to place on the small grave, but just being here near
the grave gave Ione some comfort in knowing that Titrus was
right, and that she knew where Ian was: with the angels.
Staring at the grave gave her a time to mourn for him that she
felt that she had not done properly earlier.

Near by, Sister Margaret had found a patch of wild heather
that had blossomed slightly, and brought a small bouquet to
Ione who took them and placed them lovingly on Ian's grave.

With this act, she left him go. Oh, she'd preserve his memory,
but she had to release him in her own way. Ione vowed to visit
the grave as often as was possible, and also when her other
unborn child was grown a bit.... just so that he or she knew
about their brother. Against the gray sky, Ione bowed her head
and said a silent prayer for her dead son's soul, while Sister
Margaret joined in.

All was silent about them, and only the sounds of whispered
prayer carried on the Winter wind could be heard...









Brendyn

Brendyn held the stallion steady as he prepared to remove the
tightly wedged stone from the horse's hoof. Gods how it must
have hurt him! He gently took the hoof in his hand and
prepared to remove the stone when...

Rosita
 
"They're attacking!" "Move and you die!"


Nolan
 
"Guinevere!" "Get down! It's a trap!" "I knew you
weren't to be trusted!"


Brendyn moved slowly to place the injured hoof on the ground,
then, slowly turned to look into the face of a wildly lovely
woad who had a bow and arrow pointed at him. This was a
mission of peace, so why would he even do something so stupid
as to ruin what had been built so far? Could she not see that
he was tending to his horse's injury? Brendyn's temper had
reached it's limit with the insolence of the lovely woad
woman. Brendyn was not phased by the woad nor the arrow as he
and Tyranus had faced many in their careers, but he was
surprised a bit by the sudden reaction. In his mind, Brendyn
was boiling mad. How dare this woman accuse him of attacking!
The soldier began to think quickly, not making any move as
yet. he quickly thought of a manuver that Antonius had taught
him in training.

Do not think of your actions, Brendyn. That only gives the
enemy time to kill you. You must act fast...

Everything had to be timed perfectly, and his muscles tensed
waiting.

Then, without even a thought, the young soldier quickly lashed
out a hand and pushed the arrow away from him as he rolled out
of the way to avoid being shot by it. The move finished in a
fluid motion as he regained his footing, and reached out a
strong hand to grab the bow from behind befor she could re
load. Brendyn finished the manuver by bringing her arm down
slightly to her side and at a sort of awkward angle... not to
break her arm, but t cause her enough pain to possibly drop
the weapon....

Near by, the black horse groaned in pain as the area just
above the hoof began to swell a bit more. Snow would bring
down the swelling, but right now, Brendyn could only keep his
attention on the female woad.

Still keeping her detained in this way, he yelled out,
"COMMANDER!"
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Author: golden_trillium
Date: Wed Dec 03, 2008 9:22 am
Linnette


The silence stretched for a moment between her and Mari, while
the other girl wadded and chewed a piece of bread and Linnette
dared not turn around- though she knew with a certainty that
Drake was still there, waiting at the counter, and even
getting a little impatient as he waited. Mari shot him a
couple of glances- always looking away quickly- then slid her
hand across the table to touch Linnette’s…

…and then there were footfalls behind them, footfalls that
Linnette recognized even without even conscious thought, and
before she could even turn around, a low, gruff murmur from
behind her…

Drake
 
”Linnette.”


That was it- just her name, a brief, quiet greeting, but it
made her spine stiffen and her breath catch, and she twisted
abruptly to see him, but saw only his retreating back, going
away down the aisle between the tables. He was carrying a
package that might have been bread, by the shape and size of
it, and besides the rabbits, he had a whole amphora of wine. A
whole amphora?? Was he…was he dining with someone else, then?
A stab of indignation surprised Linnette, and she turned back
to Mari with a deep breath and the beginnings of a retort of
some kind on her lips. Had she got it all wrong? Did he have a
woman, after all?

Mari
 
"I'm sure you'll find just the person, Linnette. And I
am sure she will be as lovely and sweet as you are too.
I don't think he realises quite how lucky he is to have
a friend like you to look out for him. So, so far we
need someone pretty, someone strong- and someone who can
cheer him up. That doesn't sound so hard does it?"


Mari blabbed on, cheerful as ever, but Linnette’s shoulders
sagged as she exhaled, her indignant exclamation dying before
it was uttered. There was nothing to be indignant
about…nothing she had to say about this, anyway. It had been a
stupid fantasy from the beginning…and there was nothing she
could do to truly repay Drake. Nothing he could not as easily
do for himself, anyway. Nothing she could do to make him
smile. The picture she had had of herself, basking in the
knowledge that she was responsible for his happiness, was a
ridiculous joke. And she was a silly fool for entertaining it.

“Probably harder than it seems,” she grumbled in response to
Mari’s question, feeling for the very first time the girl’s
optimism start to grate on her nerves. She heaved a sigh, on a
despairing note, and determinedly picked up her mug, quaffing
the rest of the wine at one go and wishing again that it was
stronger. The image of Gedeon was burning behind her eyes
again, etching itself further and further in, embedding itself
in grief and pain. More tears threatened. Fuck it- she was so
tired of crying!

“Do you think we should go see if Dagonet and Saoirse are
ready?” she asked, a quick, determined change of subject, her
face as straight as she could make it. It was probably too
soon- they hadn’t been here in the tavern that long. But damn
it, they had to get this portrait made! They had to, before
memory faded and pain somehow became even worse! Linnette
thought she would give anything to look on Gedeon’s face
again, even on paper- and the means to do that was so near and
yet so far! Why did Dagonet have to pick now to take a bath?
Exhaling on another exasperated, angry sob, Linnette picked up
her napkin and crumpled it savagely in her good hand. The
crushing of the insubstantial folds of the cloth seemed like
the crushing of all her foolish, foolish matchmaking dreams.










Merlin

Smith
 
"Guinevere is bringing Arthur to treat with you."


Arthur? To treat? Merlin removed his hand from the dagger hilt
only slowly and deliberately, readily believing Smith's
reassurance that there was no threat, but remaining wary
nonetheless, at this new revelation. Arthur had come himself?
Methodically, Merlin straightened his fingers and drew his
dagger hand back in, to pull his fur cloak around him
alongside the other one, as he listened gravely to the rest of
Smith's concise report.

Smith
 
"We met them on our way to bury the dead. They are ten,
eleven in number. Romans and two Sarmatians. They will
be a while in getting here. I rode as fast as I could."


"They must not come near the village," Merlin snapped out
immediately, taking an automatic step further away from the
hut and sweeping his piercing gaze around all of the clearings
and small buildings he could see, almost as if Romans might be
springing out of the undergrowth even as he watched. There was
nothing, though..nothing but his own people going about their
business, and Smith had said they'd be a while yet. And that
there were less than a dozen of them. Merlin turned back to
Smith, a momentary sheepish smile crossing his features in
mute apology for the snappish initial reaction, but his face
fell back into sternness again as he began to issue orders,
outlining the plan even as the Gods placed it into his mind.

"Ride back to the ford, Smith." The ford...yes, that would be
perfect. Several paths came together there, and it was
sufficiently far from the village while being near enough that
Merlin could reach it in less than an hour's fast walk. No
rest for the weary.

"Stop them on the far side of it. They must go no further. I
will pass the word for other scouts to concentrate there, and
if they try to force their way on, kill them." Merlin gave a
silent snarl, baring his teeth momentarily, at the thought of
spilling the Roman blood that might be so impertinant as to
cross his ford. They would deserve it- yes, even half-British
Castus!

"I will take a few others, circle around, and come to the ford
by the east path- hopefully that will confuse them and they will
not realize what direction the village really is." And we'll
need an extra watch here, just in case... the implications
strung themselves out in Merlin's mind like a string of clay
beads, and he ticked them off one by one, making sure that no
stray end was unaccounted for. Tired and weary his people
might be from the march...but the village must not be
discovered! But it would not be. He and his people, who were
strong with the strength of the forests, would not allow it to
happen. They would not allow their home to be found out and
destroyed.

"Go," Merlin urged Smith with a dismissive gesture towards his
horse, once again perversely glad that he had the damned
beast. It was proving useful...not that Merlin wanted too many
of them around, or that he thought they could not do this
without the horse! The Woads would always do exactly what they
had to do...but maybe a Roman animal was occasionally,
occasionally, a bit useful.

"Juna- I have to go," the Woad leader added, half-turning and
placing a hand briefly on the healer's shoulder as she came
out of the doorway of the hut, looking curious as to what was
going on.

"Spread the word among the noncombatants that they must not
leave the village till I return," he added, easily
transitioning into giving the the order, regardless of her
status as his lover as well. All Merlin's people were his to
order- and they all contributed to the struggle, regardless of
whether or not they fought.

"I go to treat with Castus himself," he added in brief
explanation, and then, with a light squeeze to her upper arm,
he was off, jogging across the clearing in search of others to
run messages to the scouts, and a few to go with him, and
others to watch the village borders...so much that needed to
be set in motion.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: TwistOfShadows
Date: Wed Dec 03, 2008 10:24 am
Guinevere


Intimacy? It was a strange notion to Guinevere, because unlike
most women, she did not seek it. Her priority was to serve her
father, Merlin, and protect Briton against imminent
corruption. The Woad Princess saw Rome claim more and more
land, and it galled her. She would do everything in her power
to halt their victories, their success, and in this moment?
Accepting peace and trusting Arthur was her only option.
Guinevere of Briton did not despise Arthur. There was
familiarity there, an understanding that was supported by
their shared desires for an eventual peace. They both knew the
wars that approached, and understood that one might eventually
be forced to kill the other...but that day was not today.
Guinevere sat comfortable between Arthur’s warm thighs, and
massaged his strong fingers. Her small digits smoothed between
his hard knuckles and she looked down at his hands, tilting
her head to the side. Several dark curls teased over her
forehead, and she blinked lazily, slowly. Her expression was
emotionless, impassive. Arthur was not used to the cold, and
it made sense to warm him. She did not truly think upon it,
nor considered his status as the enemy. They shared a peace
today...and warmth.

Arthur
 
“I have come to make peace with your father. The decorum
of one man is nothing in comparison to the safety of us
all…do you not agree?”


“We both desire peace and safety, Arthur.” She answered
softly, quietly, and looked up from his hands. Her dark eyes
were lit with a black fire, and she smiled at him. It was an
honest thing, small, but enough to portray sincerity. The
woman nodded towards the Optio, and glanced at him again. She
made no secret of her critical gaze, her judgmental eye. She
spoke again to Arthur. “You always did speak so intelligently.
It is very UN-Roman of you...because you know as well as
I...that peace cannot be attained by the meaningless spilling
of blood.” Guinevere looked back at Arthur, and her gaze grew
vehement, challenging, passionate. Guinevere did not wish for
war, but she knew it was necessary to achieve peace...and yet,
it was a horrible paradox. Why should Peace be won after
violence and bloodshed? Rome should give up its malicious
fight for British territory, and leave them be. Guinevere was
no coward, and she fought on level skill with many men...but
she did not desire bloodshed. She believed in something
better, an eventual peace...

Arthur
 
“Careful, lady…you may yet convince me that you care,”


Guinevere looked at Arthur, and an amused light flickered in
her eyes. Care? How very bold of him! The Woad knew he mocked
her, and she breathed a laugh from her warm lips. Guinevere
cared about a lot of things, but a Roman’s wellbeing? The
thought was humorous. Perhaps she did care for Arthur’s
safety? Or perhaps she cared long enough to use him
politically? To manipulate him to achieve her own aims? It
made no difference, and Guinevere shrugged off the comment.
They would have made powerful allies, but care? It was such a
loose word, so very vague. The woman did not stop massaging
his hands. Her strong fingers pressed into his knuckles, the
tip between his thumb and fingers. She spoke sweetly. “You
confuse my intentions Commander. I just want to be very aware
of where your hands are...”

In case he should draw a sword? In case he should fancy
himself overly confident with his captive? Guinevere laughed
again, but did not move her hand. It would take more than
Roman arrogance to reduce her boldness...

Rosita
 
”They’re attacking! Move and you die!”


Nolan
 
”Guinevere! Get down! It’s a trap! I knew you weren’t to
be trusted.”


Guinevere reacted. She heard Rosita’s voice, and she
recognised Nolan’s shouting...and her black eyes rested
sharply upon Nolan. Her touch halted on Arthur’s hand. She was
confused, but ready to react...should anything foul be taking
place. With a whip of brown hair, she turned to look to
Rosita, and frowned darkly in the female Woad’s direction. A
skirmish? There was more movement. One of Arthur’s men stepped
towards Rosita and disarmed her. What in gods....? Guinevere’s
lifted her boot higher up the horse’s side, ready to draw her
dagger...should she need it. But it was odd. It appeared a
strange trap. If Arthur was plotting her demise, he would have
attacked her first, and not aimed for the others...surely?
Guinevere breathed in sharply, and spoke to Arthur.

“What is the meaning of this? You claim peace and then your
men attack?” Guinevere’s voice was level, calm, and she turned
to Nolan and Rosita, speaking hard and loudly. “There will be
no bloodshed here!” Her voice was demanding, and highly
irritated. Guinevere was confused by the actions taking place,
but she did not understand the source of the problem. There
was an established peace, and now there were small fights
breaking out? It was ridiculous! Guinevere’s body language had
changed. She sat upright in the saddle, and frowned at the
scene before her.
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