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December 2008
Topic Started: May 28 2010, 01:27 PM (2,126 Views)
golden_trillium

Admin
Author: lady ione
Date: Fri Dec 05, 2008 4:11 pm
Vanora


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


Vanora was excited and cast a glance at Neeve, then at the
young woman who acted with an almost child like curiosity
about things about her.... almost as if she had never seen
such things. "Well, I hope they fit," The red head laughed
lightly. My eldest daughter wore them for a spell." As Neeria
took the clothes from her, Vanora could not help but think
that the woman would be a lot more comfortable if she had a
really good scrubbing. Under the layers of dirt and grime,
Vanora could almost imagine what a beauty this young woman
would look like. Neeria's big, child-like eyes that were full
of wonder, her long dark hair... Oh she'd be a beauty alright.
But for now, she and Neeve worked to make her look more
civilized. Vanora had offered dinner as it was always good to
have company, but Neeve had never been one for small spaces
and lots of noise. As Neeria turned to Neeve to see what the
healer thought about the offer, Neeria said...

Neeria
 
"Well, maybe." "I am, after all, still a prisoner. I
doubt my warden would allow such a thing,"


Prisoner? Vanora seemed to think of this for a moment and
wondered if it had been mentioned when Lancelot was in the
tavern earlier, and she had just not paid attention. Well, no
matter. This lady needed some decent clothes and a good bath,
and then she was in the hands of Neeve, and she thought,
Lancelot. Most unfortunate as Neeria seemed like such a sweet
young lady. She and Bors had taken many under their wing, but
with all of the children and themselves to feed and clothe,
such charities were becoming impossible. Maybe fortune would
smile on her and things would begin to look up for her...

She smiled again at Neeve as if wanting to ask about the
'prisoner' bit, but the joy on Neeria's face as she set the
boots on the ground made Vanora stop and turn back to the
young woman. Had this young woman never had clothes, or boots?
It was beginning to make Vanora wonder exactly what kind of
life Neeria had. With the dress held up to her shoulders,
Vanora could already see that the dress was a bit too big for
Neeria, but the color looked lovely on her. Casting a glance
to Neeve, Vanora commented, "Well, the color looks very nice
on you, Neeria... Don't you think so, Neeve?" The woman
removed the tunic, casting it to the floor. Vanora raised an
eye brow at the young woman's openness to just strip in front
of other women.... thankfully her children were not about. She
had taught them that privacy was a good thing to do, but being
nude seemed to come naturally for Neeria.

Odd.

After she had undressed, Vanora looked over at Neeve who had
remained silent. What could she possibly be thinking about?

Vanora was pleased when Neeria finally put on the dress, but
as she had feared the dress was a tad too big for the smaller
form that now wore it. It would have looked very nice on
Neeria but it hung about her body very loosely. Well, perhaps
if Ione was in the store, she could fit it to the young woman,
but Vanora had not seen Ione since last night and was kind of
worried about her. Usually, she was about playing with the
children, or walking about the fort, but it seemed as though
she had vanished over night. She'd have to inquire about her
later....

Neeria
 
"Does it make me a lady?" "My teets are not as big as
yours to hold it in place," "But I like it!"


"What do you think, Neeve? I know it is a trifle big, but
perhaps I know of someone who can fix the problem," Vanora
went up to Neeria and picked the belt up from the chair. "This
goes about your waist to accentuate your figure, and it makes
the dress fit better. She brought the belt about Neeria's
waist and made a pretty knot in the front that was sort of
Celtic looking but simple. "Ione, the weaver. She lives two
houses down from here, and though I have not seen her yet
today, perhaps she is in the shop." She looked at Neeve, "Have
you seen Ione at all today? Odd not seeing her bustling about
like she does..." She fixed the top of the dress so that it
hung over the belt slightly, making it look better, though the
woman did not have the "modesty" that Vanora had. "Ione is
very good at what she does and would have this dress looking
great on you, Neeria." Vanora stepped back and studied how
Neeria looked. Once she had a bath and had her hair cleaned,
she'd look a bit more tamed. Vanora had noticed the darker
shade of her skin...olive in tone, but then all sorts of
people lived within these walls and she should fit in just
fine...
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: golden_trillium
Date: Fri Dec 05, 2008 8:24 pm
Tristan


The scout had been riding along near the outer edge of the
group, not too far behind Arthur and the Optio, most of his
attention devoted to trying to ascertain the locations of the
Woads around them, and secondarily to determine if their route
matched Neeria’s directions to the village, which it certainly
seemed to. He threw in an occasional glance at Arthur and
Guinevere, too, talking softly between themselves, but he
didn’t care to focus on that for several reasons. He was
tense, straight in his saddle and taut as a bowstring,
prepared for anything…but he hadn’t expected their next
possible danger to come from the dark-haired Woad woman who
walked beside Nolan. Tristan had barely registered a glimpse
of movement from just behind him out of the corner of his eye-
someone dismounting? What the hell?- when all of a sudden the
Woad woman turned, saw something that alarmed her…and all hell
broke loose.

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


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


Shit! Tristan immediately pulled Tirgatao around, his hand on
his sword hilt, and the other one, one it was no longer needed
for the reins, hovering near his bow as well. Brendyn…the new
man, it was he who had dismounted, and had apparently been
checking his horse’s hoof- but he held a knife in his hand,
and the woman was now holding an arrow on him with a deadly
look in her eyes. Nolan had drawn his sword on the Commander,
and the others, the hidden others in the trees…who knew what
they were doing! If they shot, half their party or more could
be dead in a second. He urged Tirgatao a bit closer, warily,
ready to spring- but Brendyn moved slowly now, setting the
hoof down. Tristan thought he was going to, perhaps wisely,
put his hands up- but quick as a wink, he sprang for the woman
and shoved the bow out of the way, twisting her arm behind her
back. Despite the precariousness of the situation, Tristan
couldn’t help but raise one eyebrow, rather impressed with the
move. Perhaps Brendyn wasn’t as green as he seemed after
all…but then again, who drew a knife in a situation such as
this with no warning?

Brendyn
 
"COMMANDER!"


Guinevere
 
“What is the meaning of this? You claim peace and then
your men attack? There will be no bloodshed here!”


Arthur
 
“Stand down! What is this? Tristan…Bors…my men were not
instructed to attack.”


Tristan edged Tirgatao grimly forward in response to Arthur’s
half-spoken command, his eyes darting alertly around the whole
clearing, trying to take in everything. Both Guinevere and
Arthur seemed disposed to break up the fight- but would
everyone listen? Or were they all about to become Woad
pincushions? The scout’s grip on his sword hilt tightened till
his knuckles were white, though he made no gesture that anyone
else could see. Stand down, Arthur had ordered…and right now
their lives depended on not making any false moves. Tristan
just hoped Brendyn would comply…and as he continued to watch,
the female Woad neatly evaded the soldier’s grasp. Thankfully,
he didn’t try to regain her…and it was a good thing, just as
insurance, that Arthur still had a good grip on Guinevere. If
necessary, she could be their leverage…maybe.

Nolan
 
"Then why did he pull out his knife? We cannot trust
them!"


Rosita
 
"What do we do, Guinevere?"


Brendyn
 
"Sir. My Lady. I made no move to do anyone harm. Tyranus
had a good sized stone caught in his hoof, and it caused
him to stumble a bit. I dismounted, and drew my dagger
so as to remove the stone when this lady informed me not
to move or I'd die. I have to defend myself, and disarm
her so that she'd not harm me, nor my horse...nor anyone
near by. I need to get the stone out, and make sure he
has no other hoof, or leg damage."


Fuck it all. The last thing they needed now was a lame horse.
Tristan rolled his eyes, not so much at Brendyn as at the
whole situation, as Guinevere retorted from Arthur’s lap.

Guinevere
 
“I am no Lady. Your man has discovered a stone in his
horse’s hoof, and sees fit to remove whilst negotiating
with the enemy. He has not noticed that we are
negotiating a fragile peace, and that he’s within inches
of having his throat cut! Your man is an idiot! And you
will do nothing. Stand down. This is no trap. You should
have come alone.”


“Not likely,” Tristan muttered in a barely audible voice- that
would have been an even worse idea, but Brendyn’s presence, at
least, had proved to be a mixed blessing. Well, at least she’d
ordered her savage compatriots to stand down as well, and
Tristan hoped the ones in the woods bloody well listened. He
cast a glance over his shoulder- but saw nothing but a
slightly trembling fir branch to betray the inevitable
presence of others. He did, however, relax his grip on his
sword hilt just slightly. Perhaps now they’d get on with the
journey- or perhaps not. Tristan's eyes slid over to Arthur
again, waiting for his further orders on this...
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: TwistOfShadows
Date: Sat Dec 06, 2008 6:22 am
Isabella


It was cold here. The Lady Isabella Aracelli was not used to
such climates, and she pulled her white cloak tighter about
her shoulders. Her dark mare walked onwards, and the Lady
gazed about, fascinated. Crisp snow coated the ground, and the
land seemed to rise and fall in impressive hilltops and massed
ground. There was land everywhere, natural land, and it
differed from Jerusalem’s sands and deserts. It seemed damper
here, colder and less likeable. The noblewoman’s face was
tanned from the Jerusalem sun, and her hair cascaded down her
back in a celebration of thick curls and lustrous length. Her
eyes were prettily dark, and she glanced about over the noble
height of her cheekbones. There was a certain grace to her,
and she appeared foreign. Her escorts surrounded her,
protected her status and dignity, but she was a stranger in
this land. Her riding skirts were richly coloured – creams,
pastels and decorated with pearls– and her riding gloves were
fashioned with fur. She wore a striking headband, jewelled and
pretty against her dark hair. An impressive pendant hung
around her neck, emphasising her status in this strangely
barren land.

“It is bare.” She spoke, her voice carrying out over the land.
She looked upwards to a hilltop, and wrinkled her nose at the
rolling fog. It was not particularly pretty, nor likeable. It
seemed...lonely, hostile. She had been educated in the ways of
its people, and she knew them to be savage and cannibals. They
suited this land, and its strange weather. The woman dug her
heels deeper into her horse’s flanks, and rode closer to one
of her escorts. She did not feel entirely safe. In fact, she
felt open to attack and quite vulnerable. If an army of people
were to confront them now, Lord knows what would happen! She
had five escorts and herself. The Lady sat straighter in her
saddle, and held tighter to the reins. Why would people fight
over this land? It was entirely disagreeable. And her father
spoke highly of it? God knows why. It appeared effortlessly
dull. Rome could gain nothing by taking this territory.

The Lady rode onwards, and Badon soon came into sight. It was
a stoned fortress, that was certain, but its buildings were
not impressive nor pretty. Blunt stone walls, and square
windows. Who had designed such a place? Isabella found herself
disappointed. Hadrian’s Wall was mighty. It travelled the
entire length of the land, marking territory, but she had
expected...something prettier. It lacked the marbled ceilings
and columns of Rome and Jerusalem, and it did not appear very
noble at all. Isabella wondered if there had been a mistake?
Surely her father would not send her somewhere so common?
Isabella glanced down at the scroll attached to the front of
her saddle, and breathed a resigned sigh from her lips. She
would dwell here until her fiance sent for her? Isabella
pondered the prospect of escaping her escorts and riding back
to the port...but it was very unlikely. Her father would
surely punish severely for disobedience, and Isabella
represented the House of Aracelli in this land. God, but she
could not think of anywhere worse!

Travelling along the sandy track towards the gates, Isabella
glanced up to the walls. There were centurions on duty, and
someone shouted down to the guards at the gates. The Lady’s
lips tightened into a thin line. She was not happy about this
state of affairs, nor the blunt manner in which the fortress
seemed to embody. Two of her escorts rode forwards to greet
the guards, and Isabella halted on the track. She leant down
to arrange her skirts modestly, tugging them down over her
slippered feet and tanned ankles. There were raised voices,
orders given, and Isabella glanced upwards. The gates were
opened, and Isabella rode forwards. She lifted her chin
defiantly, and did not glance at the guards as she rode
through. Her dark eyes immediately sought the interior of the
fortress, and she glanced about once inside. There was a
marketplace, more gates, and scurrying servants carrying
materials, water, stock. It seemed...adequate, but lacked the
fineness of the elite society. It was...not home, but Isabella
had no choice. She was to deliver this document, and wait here
for further instructions.

“You.” She spoke dryly, to one of the guards at her side. She
felt awkward addressing such a filthy looking man, but needs
must. “I will have an audience with Arthur Castus. You will
fetch him for me, or someone who can take me to him. Now.”
Isabella did not provide any opportunity for argument. She
turned away from the man, and brushed several dark curls from
her face with her gloved fingers...
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Darya
Date: Sat Dec 06, 2008 8:17 am
Neeve


Neeria
 
"Well, maybe. I am, after all, still a prisoner. I doubt
my warden would allow such a thing,"


Granted, Neeve did not approve the Woad's smirk into her
direction that accompanied those words, but the healer would
certainly not do the girl the favour to express her irritation
about the situation openly again; if that was what Neeria
tried to do here. Instead she just lifted her chin slightly
but remained where she was: leaning against the wall near the
hearth with her arm crossed before her chest, silently
watching the interaction between Vanora and the Woad. If
something gave away her uncomfortable feeling when Neeria
addressed her, it was an annoyed sparkle in her crystal-blue
eyes…

The healer snorted quietly… She would leave it up to Derfel
whether or not he would let Neeria have dinner here with
Vanora and the kids. So far, the raven-haired was confident
that Lancelot would show up with the Saxon. Soon. Very soon.

Well, he’d better do that. Or her offer…order…to check on his
injuries might indeed be the retribution the First Knight had
mentioned jokingly in the tavern earlier…

Neeria
 
"Does it make me a lady? My teets are not as big as
yours to hold it in place. But I like it!"


Vanora
 
What do you think, Neeve? I know it is a trifle big, but perhaps I know of someone who can fix the problem. This goes about your waist to accentuate your figure, and it makes the dress fit better.  Ione, the weaver. She lives two houses down from here, and though I have not seen her yet today, perhaps she is in the shop. Have you seen Ione at all today? Odd not seeing her bustling about like she does... Ione is very good at what she does and would have this dress looking great on you, Neeria."


The Briton listened to the conversation…and could not help but
arch an eyebrow at Neeria putting her advice of trying the
clothes on into action right now. And even more so right HERE.
The Woad did not move into another room like most people would
have done. No. She undressed right where she was… And
apparently that was the most normal thing for her to do.

Neeve shook her head slightly and smirked to herself in
disbelief…and amusement. Yes, she had lived near the Woads in
the woods for a while…and she knew that the forest creatures
were…different. Yet she had thought that being a prisoner at a
Roman fortress would make the girl a bit more…cautious.
Obviously she was wrong with that. The healer briefly shifted
her gaze towards Vanora to see the redhead’s reaction…and she
indeed seemed to be a bit puzzled. Neeve subtly shrugged her
shoulders to signalize the tavern-manager that they shouldn’t
care. It at least made it easier for her to keep an eye on the
prisoner. After all, being alone in another room could have
given Neeria the chance to run away. Seeing it this way, the
healer was ALMOST glad that Neeria did what she was doing.

Anyway…once she had put the dress on, Neeve found her earlier
thought confirmed. A Woad in a dress. It was interesting
indeed…and odd. Very odd. To not grin at the sight, the Briton
licked her lips stiffly and glanced to the ground for a
moment. Only when Vanora addressed her directly did the healer
lift her gaze again to look at the other woman…yet it took her
a moment until it registered that suddenly Ione was their
topic.

“No, I haven’t seen her…”, she replied calmly, “…which doesn’t
say much actually, seeing that me and my…attachment…”, with
that, the healer gave Neeria a meaningful glance, “…have only
been in the dungeons and the tavern so far. But if you see it
necessary that she works on that dress to make it fix better,
I’ll check on her… Killing two birds with one stone so to
speak…” A corner of the woman’s mouth twitched slightly
despite the idea not being her favourite ever. But her day had
been long…and she had yet at least two Sarmatians to look
after. Yet she would do what was necessary…

Neeve also tried to ignore Neeria’s laughing. Was that Woad
beginning to feel comfortable at the Fortress??? In the end
she probably did not want to leave anymore to rejoin her
people. Oh dear Gods, now that thought was much to Neeve’s
dislike. She made a mental note to ask Arthur about his true
intentions regarding all the Woads he allowed to stay at
Badon. After all, Neeria was not the first and not the only
one…

“You like the dress? Good. Then let’s get it adjusted and move
on…”, the raven-haired stated in a voice that implied that she
didn’t really care if Neeria liked the dress or not. Even if
the Woad had despised it, she would have given the girl no
choice but to put it on or stay with the lumps she had worn
before. End of story.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Starbelle
Date: Sat Dec 06, 2008 12:23 pm

Tatiana


Darya
 
“If you don’t mind my asking, Tatiana…”, , “…have you
made any bad experiences with the stable-master? It
seems you don’t have a very high opinion of him…”


"No, I don't mind at all, Darya." Tatiana replied to her
shaking her head in the negative manner at her friend. "Yes, I
have had a bad experience with him. No, actually, I don't have
a very high opinion of him." The stable-girl's eyes then took
on a distant, far away look as she relived the memory of that
day.

"It happened a few days after the woad attack on the fort, I'd
left the stable that morning after working on the stalls for a
few hours to take a break and was just about to have a nice
breakfast with a sweet male companion that I'd just met that
same morning. Needless to say it went really bad really quick.

Mirtha'd come into the tavern that morning in one of his
alcohol-induced hang-overs. He saw me trying to clean up a
messy accident and was in the angry phase of it and yelled at
me for it, saying that I shouldn't be in here cleaning or
something like that.

I stood my ground from where I was kneeling on the floor and
said something about my having breakfast or I was having
breakfast and was going to say something else to him when
something told me not to. By this time, my breakfast date had
already left the tavern. Ever since that day, my opinion of
him has never gotten any higher or improved." Tatiana replied
as she finished up her last sip of ale, focusing once more on
Darya.

"My father had taught me from an early age to always stand up
for myself and not back down from any confrontation, no matter
who it was."
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Pinkie
Date: Sat Dec 06, 2008 1:57 pm
Saoirse


Worried she may have been, but the red head did her best not
to let it be known just how worried she was as she led Dagonet
to the baths. The ground was relatively warm and her bare feet
looked tiny on the floor. Her tunic hung half-way down her
thighs so preserved her modesty quite well. One arm wrapped
about Dagonet's waist, she kept an eye on their footing as
they made their way to teh water. If Dagonet knew how worried
she was, Saoirse knew that he would be annoyed with her - that
he would be embarrassed and irritated if he were to know just
how concerned she was that he might slip and fall on her ...

Dagonet
 
"I don't... want to get back there.. I don't know,
Saoirse... I want to stay away from others eyes for some
time. I want to have some peace.. But I still feel...
weak."


Saoirse could read between the lines quite well there.
She found herself pursing her lips as Dagonet eased down into
the water. She kept a hand on his shoulder and dropped down
onto her bottom at the edge of teh bath, dangling her legs
over the edge and into the water. The heat was immediaetly
soothing and she let out a low moan of gratitude for it as she
turned her blue eyes towards her lover.

That he admitted to feeling weak made her heart bleed. She
glanced away from him, knowing what it must have cost his
dignity to admit that - and she sniffed perfunctorily.

"Well we'll give it a try at least eh?" she asked quietly,
reaching out a wet hand and touching his cheek gently. Her
smile was brief, it was vague but it was sincere.

Half-turning, the red head reached for the pot of washing
salts and brought it around to her lap with a cloth. Cocking
an eyebrow, she offered them to Dagonet and then grinned as
she scooped out a handful of the mushy salts and smoothed it
down his shoulder.

"Linnette'll be along t'find us soon no doubt so ... let's get
this done. I've built up a fire in the room an' maybe we'll
have a meal there at least. See how ye feel wi' some food in
ye..." she murmured, rubbing the salts into his grubby skin,
watchful of his injuries.









Catherine

Pleasure was to be had in more than one form.

Some people found pleasure in the simple things of life - like
a sunny day, blue skies and butterflies. Others found pleasure
in that which satiated their hunger - like fine food, or
hearty ale. And then there were others - others like Catherine
that found pleasure in the mundane. In the softness of cloth
against clean skin. In the feel of wet hair against a warm
shoulder. Of a man's caress to her cheek or his confident
embrace.

Pleasure was hard to pin down - even more so for a woman whose
livelihood was made on pleasuring others, on finding their
soft spots and pressing...

Malcus
 
"Never the end, my dear lady, Merely a short break until
the next episode, I'd say,"


When he withdrew from her body Catherine parted her lips and
smiled, her tongue rolling against the back of her teeth a
moment as her green eyes watched his movements across the
room. Her gaze drifted down his strong back to his bare
backside and she smirked, quite pleasantly, in appreciation
for his fine physique. When he spoke she gave him a soft laugh
and sat up straight on the chest of drawers. She pulled her
bodice around properly and pulled the laces closed, but not
tight yet. She pushed her skirt down to her knees and sighed
heavily, bracing her hands against the wooden board on either
side of her legs.

Malcus
 
"There is a bucket of water there if you'd care to
wash,"


He came back to her and took her hand. Catherine gave a
playful roll of her eyes as he kissed her skin gently but she
did feel a gentle flutter in her stomach at the tenderness of
teh gesture. He handed her the cloth and her smile became
something of a rictus. Of course she was used to this 'spent
and used' feeling after having a man use her so, but it was
never easy for one such as she to be comfortable about ...
this. The clean up. The dirty side of her profession.
The whore dropped her head and took the cloth, holding it
tentatively as he turned his back to her again. She glanced up
at him and winced, putting the cloth down beside her without
using it. She hopped off the dresser and pulled the laces
tighter on her bodice, her head bowed and her pretty blonde
hair falling down over her collarbones as she tied the laces
neatly.

That he suggested the wash-basin made Catherine's stomach
flip. Wash. Dirty. He thought she needed to?

Uncertain and somewhat paranoid, the woman had already
affirmed in her own mind that she would be heading straight
home to bathe - she couldn't do it in front of him. It was ...
improper. It was... It was a strange feeling for a whore to
have but it did not feel right to wash away what they had just
shared so bluntly, as if it had not meant anything. Though in
truth ... it did not. Nor did she hope it would mean
something. Malcus was handsome but he could not give her that
which she so wanted in life. Nor would he want to - no doubt!

Malcus
 
"Thank you, my lady, for making what I thought would be
a horrible afternoon, something quite pleasant. I have
considered the amount of time I've taken from you and I
hope this pleases you,"


When he came back to her it sealed the deal and sent all of
her girlish flutterings to a cold, cold place. He was pleasant
about it, upfront and there was no denying he was generous,
but this part of her profession always disturbed Catherine.
She smiled at him, a pretty simle and a batting of her
eyelashes as she accepted the coins. With infinite grace and
aplomb she stood on her tippy toes and brushed her lips
against his in the same moment that she tucked the coins away
inside her bodice. It was easier that way - instead of
fumbling with pouch-strings in front of him.

"Shouldn't I be the one to say that?" she teased him, touching
a cool hand to his shoulder as she came back down onto the
flats of her feet. "Rest assured that I am never too far away
should your afternoons seem so dark and unpleasing in the
future."

She made an effort to push her hair into order though the
straight, lucious strands were hardly out of place.

The embarrassment of his urging her to wash and then handing
her money was waning but Catherine knew her time spent with
the Captain was at a close and she could not deny she was
looking forward to washing. Not that his touch made her feel
unclean - it was his giving her the money that made her feel
like that.

"Captain." she purred, dipping a curtsey to him, smiling up at
him in farewell before turning to the door, glancing over her
shoulder at him. She may have been uncomfortable now, but she
would not let her facade slip, she would not give up the game
now.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: lady ione
Date: Sat Dec 06, 2008 9:59 pm
Adian


Finally done!

Adian threw the hammer and extra nails back into the tool box,
picked up the box, and set it in the back of the cart. The
horse that drew the cart looked back to the carpenter, and
then shook it's shaggy mane. The young man walked up to the
horse and gave it a good pat while his eyes went to the gray
skies.

It would either rain, or snow soon.

He gave the animal an extra pat on the neck, before turning to
look at the new window frame and the work he had done on the
infirmary. It was good work for the morning, and that made up
for the odd day he had had thus far: Seeing Thorn's ghost,
asking Tatiana to move in with him, his run in with Mirtha...

All together a strange day indeed.

He was sure the nuns would be pleased with the work, and
turned back to the shaggy draft horse, "Ye'll be wanting a
good combing tonight when we are done with our work.... have
to see to my horse as well..." He thought of Wogan. He was not
a young horse though he could still work as hard as any
others. Adian moved to the back of the cart, and made sure the
latch was hooked and secured before moving to the next damaged
building. Satisfied after an extra tug on the rope, Adian move
to take the horse's reins and led him over to a vendor's shop
on the other side of the courtyard...
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Author: Elessars Girl
Date: Sun Dec 07, 2008 9:26 am

Arthur


It had all happened so suddenly, but then again that was
typical of the Woads’ tactics was it not? Stealthy forest
dwellers who attacked without provocation or any hint in
warning. Arthur had lost knights and quite a few good men to
the native Britons. But if this had truly been an attack, why
had they risked Guinevere’s life? She was, after all,
ensconced in Arthur’s lap. She would have been the first to
die if the Commander had been forced to defend his small group
of men.

Fierce and fiery emerald eyes fixed on the two people on the
snow covered ground; one a soldier - Brendyn wasn’t it? -
under Arthur’s command and the other a warrior under
Guinevere’s command. Tristan and Bors had moved in closer as
ordered and Arthur had every faith in Amadeus to be
successfully guarding the front of their line.

Rosita
 
”Princess! He pulled a knife! We’ve been tricked!”


Nolan
 
”The why did he pull his knife? We cannot trust them!”


Rosita
 
”What do we do Guinevere?”


Arthur’s brows drew tighter together, if that was possible, as
he listened to the accusations of Guinevere’s people. His
intense gaze ticked to his man, who appeared startled if
anything….not threatening or malicious in his expression as
the soldier met his Commander’s assessing gaze. Arthur
slightly lowered his chin as the young man began to speak…..

Brendyn
 
"Sir. My Lady. I made no move to do anyone harm. Tyranus
had a good sized stone caught in his hoof, and it caused
him to stumble a bit. I dismounted, and drew my dagger
so as to remove the stone when this lady informed me not
to move or I'd die.I had to defend myself, and disarm
her so that she'd not harm me nor my horse... nor anyone
nearby. I need to get the stone out, and make sure he
has no other hoof, or leg damage."


While the soldier explained, Arthur’s eyes briefly canted to
the man’s horse just a few paces behind and noted the stallion
favored one leg. The Commander was well aware of the Woads as
Guinevere’s people closed in around them. Any further sudden
and misinterpreted movements and this fragile truce would end
in wholly deplorable bloodshed. His fingers flexed over
Guinevere’s abdomen, but outwardly Arthur showed only a steely
façade of practiced restraint. He gave a single nod to Brendyn
in acceptance and appreciation of the soldier’s explanation;
it had been completely plausible.

Guinevere
 
“Your man has discovered a stone in his horse’s hoof,
and sees fit to remove whilst negotiating with the
enemy. He has not noticed that we are negotiating a
fragile peace, and that he’s within inches of having his
throat cut! Your man is an idiot!


“He is inexperienced, not ignorant,” Arthur recanted to
Guinevere in a low growl to only be heard by the lady in his
lap. An annoyed expression dominated Arthur’s features,
pulling his eyebrows together as he spoke.

Guinevere
 
And you will do nothing. Stand down. This is no trap.”


Arthur lifted his chin in agreement with Guinevere’s words.

“Soldier, see to your mount….keep your weapons sheathed,”
Arthur sternly instructed his man (Brendyn) with a slight tilt
of his head. And then the Commander turned his gaze to the
Centurion accompanying them.

“Quintus, gave him aid if required,” Arthur added and then
surveyed the rest of his men with a confident gaze, reassuring
them that the matter was now resolved. His green eyes lingered
a moment longer on Tristan as if to silently convey his need
for the scout to keep a close eye on the soldier going
forward. Arthur could not afford any further such mistakes by
any one of his men. God had graced them with His protection
thus far….but another mishap such as had just occurred, could
end in certain death for them all. And Arthur wanted peace and
to return his men safely to the fortress. Nothing more.

Guinevere
 
“You should have come alone.”


Arthur made a disgruntled sound and twisted his mouth before
answering her.

“Should I have?” He murmured disdainfully into her ear.

“Gentlemen, shall we?” Arthur addressed his group and then
steered Casti with a pull at the reigns to bring the
magnificent white around again. “…with my lady’s permission of
course,” He added with a tight smile to Guinevere and
purposely addressing her as a 'lady' following her vehement
statement to the contrary moments ago. The Commander’s gaze
then briefly met that of his Optio’s as Arthur maneuvered his
stallion back into position at the head of the mounted
procession. The Commander’s side ached and the icy winds bit
at his exposed skin…he licked at his chapped lips and in doing
so caught a tiny strand of Guinevere’s long dark hair in his
mouth. Arthur twisted his chin away enough to release it and
then focused on the linen white path before them. The bare
branches of the trees appeared to reach out to hinder their
passing….thus it was entirely possible he and the men would be
unable to remain mounted for much longer. Arthur deeply
inhaled, allowing the cold to stir at his lungs and the scent
of ‘her’ to completely fill his nostrils. Her scent was of the
woods, the earth, berries and firs….she was Britain.
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Author: Darya
Date: Sun Dec 07, 2008 9:44 am
Darya


Continuing to watch the girl opposite her, it soon became
clear that Darya’s assessment of Tatiana’s attitude towards
Mirtha were correct. And it seemed the stable-hand was willing
to let her in on the details. Good. Perhaps this would make
her understand better…

Tatiana
 
"No, I don't mind at all, Darya. Yes, I have had a bad experience with him. No, actually, I don't have a very high opinion of him. It happened a few days after the woad attack on the fort.  Mirtha'd come into the tavern that morning in one of his alcohol-induced hang-overs. He saw me trying to clean up a messy accident and was in the angry phase of it and yelled at me for it, saying that I shouldn't be in here cleaning or something like that.  My father had taught me from an early age to always stand up for myself and not back down from any confrontation, no matter who it was."


The dark Sarmatian pursed her lips in thought as she listened
to the incident Tatiana was telling her about. It did not
sound like a really bad or even dangerous situation…though it
certainly had been rather upsetting…or at least disturbing one
for the girl. However, if she truly wanted to live at Badon
for longer, she should probably get used to not being treated
too nicely. Especially Roman soldiers tended to have a way of
expressing clearly that they were the superior power at this
place. But of course drunken men or people with a hangover
could be just as bad. However, Darya was not sure if she would
consider the advice Tatiana’s father had given the stable-hand
concerning confrontations such a wise one. Not always at
least…

“I see…”, she mused and granted herself the last sip of tea
left in her mug, deliberately pausing to ponder how to best
voice her thoughts regarding what Tatiana had just told her.
Compared to what the Sarmatian herself had seen, heard or even
been through herself concerning drunk or hangover men – even
sober ones – made Tatiana’s story appear…comparatively
harmless. Though she could not blame the girl for disliking
Mirtha because of it.

“Well, and I guess the whole tension caused by the recent
attacks makes people react even more…aggressive…than they
usually would do…”, the dark-haired then said and glanced
pensively at the now empty mug in her hands, “…and while I can
see why you don’t have a high opinion of him, I also think you
should give him the benefit of the doubt. He hasn’t hit you or
hurt you, has he?”

With that, the Sarmatian lifted her dark gaze to meet
Tatiana’s lighter one. “If he has, you must tell me, Tatiana.
And even if not…I could always have a word with him if you
want to”, Darya continued and tried to read in the
stable-hand’s face. Shifting slightly on her chair, the
dark-haired straightened her back a little. A movement which
seemed to startle the hawk next to her a bit for the bird
almost did the very same thing…and stretched its good wing of
that. Darya glanced sideways at the animal, thinking that she
should take it to her room soon. The tavern would get more
crowded in a few hours…and would be no place for an injured
hawk.

“As for your father’s lesson…”, the female Sarmatian added as
she focused on Tatiana again, “…it is a very honorable advice
in general…yet it is not always wise to not stand down from a
confrontation. You can do that with Mirtha…but be careful
should you ever get involved into an argument with a Roman. Or
several of them. Most of them are not as kind and fair as our
Commander…” Again a corner of Darya’s mouth twitched slightly
and she found herself missing Arthur terribly all for
sudden…but managed to push this feeling aside for now. “That
be my advice for you…”, she then said and gave Tatiana nod to
underline her words…
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Author: Elessars Girl
Date: Sun Dec 07, 2008 10:11 am
Derfel


Lancelot
 
"I'll find you in the infirmary later, lady,"


Derfel had to bite at the insides of his mouth to keep from
saying something scathing at the dark knight….and thank the
gods for the man’s exit – even if he did slam the door on his
way out – just now or….

Linnesse
 
“I’ll be fine- it’s warmer in the infirmary,”


Derfel’s expression immediately softened as he looked down
into Linnesse’s sweet – if not a bit worried? – eyes. He
audibly sighed as her hands came to rest on his forearms.
Derfel knew that he had to go….but all that the young knight
longed to do right now was hold Linnesse and soak in her
warmth and affections. But duty called....so that would have
to wait until later tonight.

Linnesse
 
“You do know that Lancelot has absolutely nothing on
you, don’t you?”


Derfel’s smile widened at Linnesse’s words and her affections.
Gods how he loved her. And he prayed to Bel that Lancelot
would never truly catch her eye…or hurt her.

Linnesse
 
“At least not with that terrible black eye,”


Derfel released a snort and wryly grinned while beginning to
wrap his swordbelt around his waist.

“I’d be blackening that other eye if he even so much as thinks
he’s going to bother you,” Derfel said while tightening the
belt with one hand and tilting his head down enough to brush
his lips over Linnesse’s soft brow. With his overcoat flung
over his shoulder, Derfel then reached for Linnesse’s hands at
his waist and took up her tiny fingers in his.

“He’s a dangerous one…that Lancelot…and unpredictable. I don’t
want him around you alone,” Derfel said solemnly and with a
gentle squeeze at his lover’s fingers. And it wasn’t only
jealousy or insecurity that drove Derfel’s concern. Lancelot
was the treacherous sort both on the battlefield and here
within the relative safety of the fortress.

“Look luv, he’s ‘Darya’ with a beard, hm?” Derfel said with
humor in his voice…but only half joking. Although Derfel
certainly liked and understood Darya far better than Lancelot.
But he hoped that making the comparison would better explain
his concerns to Linnesse. Darya, another exotic and intriguing
Sarmatian, had threatened Linnesse with a dagger
once…unprovoked. And Lancelot was likely to do something
similar without reason. And then Derfel would have to take
revenge on a fellow knight.

“Come on, luv…I’d best not keep the grumpy, patient First
Knight waiting, aye?” Derfel said with another smile – genuine
and affectionate this time. He released Linnesse’s fingers
long enough to tug on his overcoat and slide his dagger into
its sheath that was strapped to his thigh and then took up her
hand again. Derfel led Linnesse to the door and held it open
for his love. And as the couple stepped out into the crisp
afternoon air, there was Lancelot braced up against the outer
wall of the apartment….appearing all broody and pensive…and
decidedly not welcoming. Derfel sqeezed at Linnesse’s tiny
fingers in his hand and approached the other man with some
trepidation….after all there was a begrudging respect there.
Lancelot was Arthur’s First Knight and closest companion even
if Derfel didn't understand it.

“Sorry to keep ya waiting…I’m ready now,” Derfel said evenly
with a tight smile on his lips and blue eyes fixed on
Lancelot’s good eye. His long sword hung comfortably against
his thigh and although he was unshaven, hair still a bit of a
mess, Derfel was otherwise presentable as a knight.
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Author: golden_trillium
Date: Sun Dec 07, 2008 12:28 pm
Linnesse


Derfel
 
“I’d be blackening that other eye if he even so much as
thinks he’s going to bother you. He’s a dangerous
one...that Lancelot…and unpredictable. I don’t want him
around you alone. Look luv, he’s ‘Darya’ with a beard,
hm?”


"Really?" Linnesse bit her lower lip worriedly as she held
Derfel's eyes, his words giving her serious pause despite
their half-joking tone. Darya...Darya had threatened her with
a drawn knife once, and for no reason at all! Was Lancelot
truly like that? Linnesse snuck a trepeditious glance over
towards the door of the apartment, through which the First
Knight had so recently exited, trying to imagine him
threatening her like that, and surprisingly, it was not hard,
to picture his handsome, though black-eyed, face twisted up
into a snarl and a weapon in his hand. Linnesse blinked and
shivered, edging yet closer to Derfel again in unconscious
seeking for protection...but then...

"If he comes to the infirmary there will be plenty of people
around," Linnesse continued a bit shakily, turning back to
Derfel, squeezing his hand and taking a deep breath to calm
herself and push the image away. She would be careful- that
was all. And Linnette seemed to think that Lancelot was not a
bad sort- but then again, Linnette also had rather
questionable judgment in people lately. Yes- Linnesse would be
very careful. But there was no reason not to help him if he
came to the infirmary. That, at least, was a public place.

Derfel
 
“Come on, luv…I’d best not keep the grumpy, patient
First Knight waiting, aye?"


"I suppose not," Linnesse answered, her delicate eyebrows
raising in worried acknowledgement of that- not that she
thought Derfel was in nearly as much danger from Lancelot as
she herself potentially was. Well, not in physical danger,
anyway- though danger of getting in trouble if the First
Knight felt him tardy to his guard duty, maybe. They'd better
go. She threaded her fingers once more though his, adjusted
her cloak farther around her shoulders with her free hand, and
followed Derfel out of the quarters, lingering a step behind
him, all the way- and the more so when they came in sight of
Lancelot, lounging darkly and bad-temperedly against the wall.

Derfel
 
"Sorry to keep ya waiting…I’m ready now.”


"I'll see you later," Linnesse murmurred, coming up a step so
that she could say those words next to Derfel's ear. She
dropped a kiss on the back of his shoulder- she was still
keeping herself largely behind him. She cast a wary look at
Lancelot, eyes peeking wide and blue over Derfel's shoulder,
taking in once more the black eye and the general air of
danger- which seemed all the more apparent to her now that it
had been pointed out. Well...at least she knew exactly what
she'd put in that poultice, what should help that eye,
dangerous man or not. Backing up a step, away from Derfel's
warmth, she released her man's hand and turned away, casting a
last curious glance back towards the First Knight. She did
hope he wouldn't give Derfel too much of a hard time. At least
just guarding a prisoner didn't sound like too strenuous a
duty...

"Be safe," she added as she turned to return to the infirmary,
reaching for the hood of her cloak to put it up.
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Author: Unicorn
Date: Sun Dec 07, 2008 2:02 pm
Dagonet


Dagonet hoped that his heavy breathing and somehow unstadly
walk was not worrying Saoirse too much... He was walking
slowly and his feet seemed heavy, tired. He hoped that Saoirse
wasn't worried for him greatly. He didn't want to worry her
too much. He wasn't looking at her as they walked towards the
bath. He didn't want to see worry in her eyes. He didn't want
to admitt that he already knew that she indeed had worry in
her heart for him. As Dagonet had always for her.

Finally as they reached the water, Dagonet with Saoirse's help
eased into the water and felt reliefed to feel it's soothing
power upon his tired skin. His body felt relaxed and he
allowed himself a small smile gracing his lips for a moment.
It was a good feeling.

People were saying that water washed away tiredness and gave
calmness. In this moment Sarmatian could believe in this.
Dagonet smiled wider as he heard Saoirse moan to probably
feeling the same soothed. He turned his head to look upon her
and gave her a little smile. She deserved that little time of
peace also.

They both deserved this calmness... this peace.

Saoirse
 
"Well we'll give it a try at least eh?"


Saoirse probably knew how much it costed him to tell her about
what he felt... that he was weak. She knew him too well. And
looked away for moment, the same as Dagonet. His sight fell
upon the water and he stayed like that for moment when Saoirse
finally spoke up.

At least a try...

Sure, we can try, before knowing for sure that I should get
back into the infirmary... - he thought bitterly not looking
still back at her. He didn't want this to turn like that. But
he had bad feelings about this returning. Was it not too fast
for him, realy? He should have hope that he was ready to go
back, but something inside was telling otherwise. He had his
doubts, but he would not say a word about them.

When Saoirse's hand went to his cheek he turned his eyes to
look at her and saw her brief smile before she offered him
some washing salts. He took them with a little smile and
rubbed them carefully in his palms. He had still not fully
healed wound in his right palm, but it looked better.

He felt Saoirse smoothing washing salt down his shoulder and
it felt good. While she was busy with his one arm he washed
the other one.

Saoirse
 
"Linnette'll be along t'find us soon no doubt so ...
let's get this done. I've built up a fire in the room
an' maybe we'll have a meal there at least. See how ye
feel wi' some food in ye..."


Dagonet nodded his head and murmured a silent confirmation.
After a second he reached with his one hand to his chin and
felt his growing bristle. Then run his hand over his head
feeling his hair longer than it should be normally.

"Do you think I should shave?" he asked his lover turning his
head a little to see her face.
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Author: Lancelot
Date: Mon Dec 08, 2008 5:22 pm
Lancelot


The sun came and went spottily; Lancelot continued to lounge
against Derfel's home uncomfortably and tried not to wonder
what the fuck was going on with Arthur's meeting with the
Magician - and by the gods, but what would he do if things did
go badly? Go the way he feared they would?

If Arthur had broken off any kind of contact with
those...people long ago, they wouldn't be in this mess. They
wouldn't have been attacked - maybe - and Lancelot would be
riding at Arthur's side where he should be on routine patrol
and defending their fortress until he was either killed by an
enemy - Woads are the enemy, Arthur - weapon, or by some grace
of whomever, freed to go home.

Home? What is home? Is this home? This brick building behind
me? The British sky - the wide plains and grasses of my land?

Arthur's eyes?

Derfel
 
Sorry to keep ya waiting…I’m ready now,”


"Fuck! - fine," Lancelot answered, startled by the other man's
sudden appearance. He cursed himself for falling into such
deep introspection. He canted his head and watched Derfel's
woman walk away toward the infirmary, he guessed, and smiled
smarmily at the knight. "Nice girl, that. You'd best keep a
close watch on her - there are some nasty elements here. You
should be glad she seems to have a good head on her
shoulders." Shaking his arms as the chill wind picked up and
blew his jerkin open, he grasped at the leather and held the
coat shut with one hand. With the other, he brushed at the
hilt of his sword, reassuring himself he was still armed and
still Lancelot, not some idiot, swooning, emotional fool that
couldn't get passed one single easy issue.

Find yourself another whore for the night.

"Not being sure where Neeve would have taken the Woad, I say
we check the baths first. It's logical, and besides, I reek
and I'm tired and I'm in fucking charge and I can take the
time to bathe," he stated baldly as they began to move away
from the apartment. "Coming?"

Lancelot turned to look back at Derfel, and when he swiveled
forward, he walked straight into a guard he'd never seen
before. A fully armed guard that wore lots of pokey and sharp
armor and had the audicity to stomp on Lancelot's foot.

"Mmmmmmmmmmmffffyou'd best have a good explanation for that,
soldier," he spat, and raising his foot, rubbed at the
offended toe. "What the fuck do you want?" Lowering his leg,
Lancelot stood up straight and rested his hand back on the
hilt of his broadsword.

What the fuck is this and why do I feel as if I'm never going
to have a moment's peace today?

Gods damn you, Arthur. You should have taken me with you.

The unnamed man saluted and asked for Arthur Castus.

"And for what reason?"

The man answered him, and Lancelot, narrowing his eyes, cocked
his head and stared again at the guard. "Who in the Hell is
Lady Isabella Aracelli?"
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Author: TwistOfShadows
Date: Tue Dec 09, 2008 10:25 am
Guinevere


The frost chilled Guinevere’s lips. The woman breathed, and a
gentle mist of condensation seeped from her tongue, heating
the freezing weather conditions. Even t he mud at Casti’s feet
was hard with fallen snow, and Guinevere could sense Winter.
It surrounded her. It bit her pale cheeks with cold and
flushed them red. Her blue skin was bright against Arthur’s
body, and his thick cloak offered heat and sensation. She
could feel the soft fabric brushed against her chin shoulders,
and his muscular thighs were hot around her body. Guinevere
felt comfortable, and if it hadn’t been the sudden skirmish?
She would have been happier, relaxed. Oh it was true, Arthur
was their enemy and could murder her easily from this
position. He had taken control from Guinevere, for now, but
only the Woads knew where the camp was. They had priceless
leverage, and Guinevere felt stronger for it. Whatever truths
Neeria had sold them, Guinevere could heal those wounds, that
treachery. Surely the fool had not been stupid enough to give
up their location? Perhaps, perhaps not. Nevertheless, Arthur
needed Guinevere as a bartering tool...and so he was not
entirely in authority here.

If the Romans displeased Guinevere, she would order their
death. The man with the lame horse stared blankly at them, and
Guinevere was quickly losing patience! This was ridiculous!

Tristan
 
”Not likely.”


Arthur
 
”He is inexperienced, not ignorant.”


Truly? Guinevere cared not. He could be dead or alive, and she
would not care. This was a fragile peace, and Arthur’s man was
ruining it, disrespecting it! Indeed, Guinevere did not
understand the way of horses, nor the results of being
lame...so she showed little patience. Her dark eyes glittered
with vehement dislike, and she parted her lips in a harsh
breath. They were wasting time, dwelling on unnecessary
problems, and the Woad woman was not impressed. She listened
to Arthur’s low growl, and scoffed. Most Romans were
inexperienced and ignorant, but she would save that argument
for another day...

Arthur
 
“Soldier, see to your mount….keep your weapons sheathed.
Quintus, gave him aid if required. Should I have?
Gentlemen, shall we? …with my lady’s permission of
course,”


Lady?

Guinevere rolled her eyes, and tightened her lips into a thin
line. These orders should have been given earlier, and his men
should behave. Why couldn’t more Romans be like Arthur? Surely
there would have been a peaceful surrender by now...? On
Rome’s part. Guinevere would fight Rome until every arrogant
Centurion lay dead, and she made no secret of it. Rome
polluted Britain, and she viewed each of its soldiers as
vermin. They had been signed into martial duty, and therefore
volunteered for death. The British warriors were not barbaric,
they were passionate. She had heard many amusing tales of
cannibals and the torturing culture of her people, and it was
interesting. Pagans were peaceful, and Romans were
blood-thirsty Christians with a desire for tyranny. Death.
They would bathe in their own blood for their greediness, and
Guinevere would be there to strike the final blow. As she
surveyed Arthur’s party and heard him speak into her ear, she
lay back against his breastplate. She felt Arthur breathing
above her, and it was warm, hot, against her dark hair. She
closed her eyes for a second, attempting to calm herself.

“Oh indeed, ride on. I am merely your captive...” Guinevere
spoke bitterly, knowing she must agree. She gazed forwards
into the woodland path, her thick lashes batting lazily. The
woman glanced into the foliage, drawing comfort in that they
were surrounded. Ceinwyn rested nearby, ready for attack...and
the woman was fierce. It was a welcome relief. Guinevere of
Briton placed her hand back firmly upon Arthur’s knuckles, but
it was no longer soft or gentle. It was a declaration of her
presence, her status as Merlin’s daughter. Speaking quietly,
she responded to his jest. “I am not a Lady. I could prove it
to you, but your God would punish you for the beast we’d
produce. A strong beast, and very British. Do not tempt me
Arthur, I would hate to see you punished...” Guinevere spoke
dryly, bitterly, and lifted her chin defiantly. She had bedded
Lancelot, but he was Sarmatian. It was a traitorous action,
but to share her body with a Roman? Sacrilege.
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Author: Elessars Girl
Date: Tue Dec 09, 2008 11:51 am
Derfel


Derfel had been reassured by Linnesse’s reactions to his
warnings about Lancelot. He had been loathe in bringing up the
altercation between his lover and Darya, but the point seemed
to have had the intended effect. Derfel did not want Linnesse
in harms way – alone with the likes of Lancelot.

Lancelot
 
"Fuck! - fine,"


Derfel raked a hand through his messy hair and nearly reminded
Lancelot that there was a lady present…the man should be more
mindful of his language. But the knight thought better of it
and bit his tongue instead. No doubt Lancelot would only have
responded with further expletives.

Linnesse
 
"I'll see you later. Be safe,"


“You too, luv,” He murmured with a gentle smile. Linnesse’s
soft lips then brushed over the back of Derfel’s neck and his
body instantly reacted with a pleasant shiver briefly
prickling at his spine. His eyes followed his beautiful lover
for a moment longer, his lips twisted up into an affectionate
smile even as Linnesse moved away. The gods had certainly
blessed Derfel with that one. And her love helped ease the
young knight’s other pains….his hands dipped into the pockets
of his overcoat as Lancelot’s surprisingly amicable voice
broke the spell.

Lancelot
 
"Nice girl, that. You'd best keep a close watch on her -
there are some nasty elements here. You should be glad
she seems to have a good head on her shoulders."


Yeah…like you.

Derfel’s chin dipped in agreement as he continued to watch
after his lover’s footsteps until she turned a corner and fell
from sight. He sighed and then turned his attentions back to
Arthur’s first knight and awaited Lancelot’s instruction.
Guard duty was it?

Lancelot
 
"Not being sure where Neeve would have taken the Woad, I
say we check the baths first. It's logical, and besides,
I reek and I'm tired and I'm in fucking charge and I can
take the time to bathe…..Coming?"


“Aye,” Derfel answered aloud, yet also thought: Smartest thing
you’ve said yet…you’re more pungent than even I am after the
morning I’ve had. But the two men hadn’t taken four steps when
Lancelot collided with some over-dressed soldier that was
unfamiliar to obviously both of the knights. Thank the gods
Derfel had been a step behind the First Knight and had time
enough to react, or there had been quite a pile up just now.
Derfel stood quietly at Lancelot’s side and listened to the
brief exchange….

Lancelot
 
"…..Who in the Hell is Lady Isabella Aracelli?"


“Not heard of her……” Derfel half mumbled to himself as he fell
into step once again with Lancelot as they both began to
follow after the officious looking fellow. A small smirk then
worked at the corner of Derfel’s mouth as he reflected on the
poor sot accidentally stomping on Lancelot’s foot moments ago.
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