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| December 2008 | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: May 28 2010, 01:27 PM (2,126 Views) | |
| golden_trillium | May 30 2010, 02:28 PM Post #31 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Fri Dec 05, 2008 4:11 pm Vanora
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...
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....
"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 | May 30 2010, 02:30 PM Post #32 |
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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.
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?
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.
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.
“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 | May 30 2010, 02:32 PM Post #33 |
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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 | May 30 2010, 02:33 PM Post #34 |
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Author: Darya Date: Sat Dec 06, 2008 8:17 am Neeve
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…
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 | May 30 2010, 02:35 PM Post #35 |
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Author: Starbelle Date: Sat Dec 06, 2008 12:23 pm Tatiana
"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 | May 30 2010, 02:37 PM Post #36 |
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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 ...
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...
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.
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!
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 | May 30 2010, 02:38 PM Post #37 |
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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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| golden_trillium | May 30 2010, 02:40 PM Post #38 |
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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.
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…..
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.
“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.
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.
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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| golden_trillium | May 30 2010, 02:42 PM Post #39 |
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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…
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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| golden_trillium | May 30 2010, 02:44 PM Post #40 |
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Author: Elessars Girl Date: Sun Dec 07, 2008 10:11 am Derfel
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….
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.
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.
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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| golden_trillium | May 30 2010, 02:45 PM Post #41 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Sun Dec 07, 2008 12:28 pm Linnesse
"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.
"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.
"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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| golden_trillium | May 30 2010, 02:47 PM Post #42 |
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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 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.
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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| golden_trillium | May 30 2010, 02:48 PM Post #43 |
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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?
"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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| golden_trillium | May 30 2010, 02:50 PM Post #44 |
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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!
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...
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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| golden_trillium | May 30 2010, 02:51 PM Post #45 |
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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.
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.
“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.
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?
“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….
“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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