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| December 2008 | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: May 28 2010, 01:27 PM (2,121 Views) | |
| golden_trillium | Jun 3 2010, 03:09 AM Post #106 |
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Author: TwistOfShadows Date: Tue Dec 23, 2008 3:07 pm Isabella The Lady Isabella Araceli was entirely unimpressed. Her dark eyes glanced around the dull grey fortress, and her pink lips pouted in distaste. Her long skirts dragged against the frost covered ground, and she could hear her pearled hem tinkling against the floor. This dress had been expensive, and sewn by the finest artists in the Holy City. An impressive pendant hung from her delicate throat, and she lifted a hand to cover it, protectively. Badon Hill was a most disgusting and ugly place, and full of narrow alleyways and gloomy buildings. Isabella was familiar with marble pillars looming into the sky, and golden statues and domes decorating the plaza. The market place in Jerusalem was exotic, richly spiced and colourful, and yet in Briton? Isabella saw nothing but one shabby-looking stall, and she felt the indignance rise in her throat. Was her father quite mad? To send her to this barbaric countryside with only a few men...and to be ruled over by a Sarmatian dog? Isabella looked up at Lancelot through her thick eyelashes, and almost shuddered. Briton was mocking propriety, and the Lady felt nervous and vulnerable. She had brought no ladies-in-waiting, nor any personal bodyguards...Lord Almighty! She must meet with Arthur, and then be gone. As soon as possible.
Isabella looked at him, and arched a fine eyebrow into her hairline. She did not care for the pronunciation of his name, because she doubted it would be useful. The man was a Sarmatian soldier, and of little consequence to her. The woman turned her noble nose up at him, and ignored his efforts. Let his drunken friends attempt to articulate it properly, let someone who cared who he was. The noble Lady already found his presence completely displeasing, and he seemed to think himself important. Did the man not understand the hierarchy of nobility? Did he not accept his own position? If Isabella was braver, she might rebuke his boldness...but she remained quiet. This country was new to her, and she needed...someone. The woman wrinkled her nose. And that someone was Lancelottitee, or however he spoke it.
Truly? Isabella nodded as she walked ahead of him. Well at least this barbarian contained some vestige of manners in the face of propriety. But to think herself special? Isabella was special, and she was certainly vastly more important than him. The Lady found herself growing quite hot at his words. With temper. Who was this man again? Some useless creature employed to defend Briton, and who clearly had ideas above his station. The Lady Isabella did not speak, but it took all her strength. Her pretty pink lips were tightened into a thin and hard line, and her eyes flared in irritation. They entered the quarters of the officer’s wives, and she breathed an audible sigh from her lips. More blunt stone walls, and not a rich carpet or tapestry in sight. She looked up and down the wall, and swallowed roughly. It appeared more a prison than living quarters!
Love? Oh, but that was final. The man dared to reach out and finger her fine sleeve, and Isabella’s form visibly straightened. He spoke boldly, bravely to the daughter of a man who held the jurisdiction to have him murdered upon sight. A castle upon a cloud indeed? No, she had not expected such fineries, but she had expected more than a citadel moulded together by cold weather and barbarians! Isabella parted her lips, and stood firmly. She watched him wrestle the door, and fought from smirking. He could not open such a thing? Indeed, what use was he? She noted the change in his voice – from flirtation to cold brutality to...the conversation technique used when dealing with disease-ridden whores. The Lady Isabella stood before Lancelot, but did not move into the room. She rather looked at him, and eyed him up...and down. It was a scrutinous perusal, and one that clearly ended in disapproval. She lifted her chin defiantly, confidently, and spoke in a low, dangerously foreign tone. “You will call me, My Lady. As nobility dictates, Sarmatian.” She spoke through her teeth, her foreign tongue shaping each word thinly. “And you will keep your filthy hands to yourself. Lord knows where they have been!” Isabella looked at the knight, and shook her head. A dark curl came loose from her headdress, and curled into the dip beneath her chin. It appeared black against her golden skin, and pretty against the metal of her pendant. She glanced into the room disapprovingly, and cleared her throat loudly. “Where I come from, a Sarmatian would never be left in charge of anything. You should be very grateful that Arthur allowed you this privilege, but be warned Barbarus* ...do not expect it to happen again. Not whilst I reside here.” Isabella took one more glance at the man, and walked into the room. What was she expecting? Yet more disappointments? “I suggest you learn some manners.” She spoke over her shoulder, and turned her back on him. *Barbarus= barbarian |
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| golden_trillium | Jun 3 2010, 03:10 AM Post #107 |
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Author: Darya Date: Tue Dec 23, 2008 3:21 pm Darya
The female Sarmatian breathed a laugh at Eyla’s first statement. It was probably a good thing that the whore had never had to live in the wilderness…since Darya was sure the other woman would not have survived out there for long. A few days maybe…at the max. Thus Eyla just could not understand the beauty of wilderness… This very unique beauty that marked the people living in it… Maybe that was one of the things Darya saw especially in Lancelot, too. This dark wilderness that was so similar to her own… Something that defined them…and that Rome had not managed to take from them…even though they had tried. Hard. Pensively, the woman’s dark gaze lingered on the hawk on her arm once more…though her thoughts lingered somewhere else for another moment. “She cannot fly…she’s injured…”, the dark-haired then heard herself explaining in an almost absent sounding voice, “…it will take some more days…maybe weeks for her wing to heal properly. And then she will be the queen of the skies again…” In her mind, Darya could already see the hawk circle majestically in the sky again…and the image let a faint smile tug at her full lips… However, the Sarmatian decided to ignore Eyla’s remark about her certainly not too happy face expression. But who could blame her for not being overjoyed? Under normal circumstances she should be, yes…especially with a child on its way and one of the best men on this world being the father. Just that nothing was normal in her life. And had not been for a very long time. Her relationship with Arthur was…complicated…and the Roman as well as she herself had a lot of personal demons to deal with. Something that sometimes seemed to devour each of them inwardly. And yet Darya loved Arthur…and often enough prayed to the Gods to grand them just a moment of light heartedness every now and then. The light heartedness Eyla was eradiating so seemingly easily…and openly. Was that a stab of jealousy the Sarmatian was feeling about this? This ability? A small frown briefly creased her brow…
Once more shaking her head slightly to herself, the dark Sarmatian moved on. Luckily, her quarters were not too far away. She squinted her eyes at another gust of wind…but could not help but laugh quietly at Eyla’s questions. A sarcastic laughter though…that faded into a snort. “You have…no idea…”, Darya just stated and chuckled again. No, Eyla had no idea…but the Sarmatian had no intention of giving the whore all the details of her dark complicated life. The other woman would not understand…and Darya sought distraction, thus was not willing to get into her past… “Do not mistake thoughtfulness for misery, Eyla”, the dark-haired then added and glanced at the smaller woman by her side, “…not everyone can be as joyful as you are every day…all day…” With that, the Sarmatian gave the other woman a wry grin and wondered how the whore was doing that…being at ease all the time… Even though Darya was sure that her cheeky and direct way was not always welcome by everyone else. Especially in the times of war. “And thank you for calling me unattractive…that is the best way to cheer a woman up…”, the dark Sarmatian continued and an eyebrow quivered slightly as she did so, “…but if it is that bad, I’m sure you are the best person to ask for a way to change that, hm?” Then the two women entered the building that held the knights' rooms and headed for Darya’s room. By now, the Sarmatian knew the way and did not get lost anymore. At least one positive development…if a more or less marginal one. Soon they reached her quarter’s door and the dark-haired opened it…gesturing for Eyla to enter first… |
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| golden_trillium | Jun 3 2010, 12:54 PM Post #108 |
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Author: Elessars Girl Date: Wed Dec 24, 2008 12:26 pm Arthur Arthur regarded Merlin with great care while he awaited the Woad leader’s response. The Commander’s posture and expression were the epitome of patience, nobility and accord despite the very real concern that this meeting may not go as the Roman prayed it would. Peace between them would mean quiet days ahead – no more senseless bloodshed and treachery. With peace secured, Arthur could return to Badon Keep and turn his full attentions on the repairs at the fortress – and that of the care of his lover and her unborn child. His child. And if God would allow it, fully reconcile with the one that truly held what was left of Arthur’s heart firmly in his grasp. A large bird of prey circled overhead as it floated effortlessly on the icy winds. Arthur, unaware of the injuries to the bird left back at the fortress, assumed it to be Tristan’s faithful companion. The Commander firmly stood his ground with patience still prevalent on his steely expression…and then Merlin spoke at last….
“Regrettably, that is so,” Arthur confirmed with an even tone while the Woad leader paused in his speech. Merlin’s small shrug and the easiness in his voice yet gave Arthur hope. But it was not to be…..
Now it was Arthur’s turn to offer a thinly pleasant smile that did not quite reach his green eyes. His chin slightly lifted as the Commander carefully chose his words before speaking. The wind caught up the long crimson cloak he wore and the material bellowed in the icy breeze, but Arthur appeared unaffected by it. “So be it. I must honor your word and I thank you for the guarantee of safety for my men on this day,” Arthur answered with a respectful nod to Merlin before continuing. The Commander then set his jaw and allowed his hands to fall to his sides. He knew that it would be futile to press Merlin on the matter of peace – that was quite evident in the man’s determined and hardened gaze. Arthur had always held a gift for ‘reading’ people and he could see the truth in Merlin’s eyes. No treaty of peace could be had this day. This meeting – brief as it had been - was at an end. “I shall lead my men in a peaceful retreat from these woods along the same path in which we came. And upon my return to the fortress, I shall send those of your people there in my care back to you without delay,” Arthur stated with a small inclination of his head before he turned to grasp at Casti’s leather halter. The magnificent white stallion lowered his head to his master and Arthur slid his free hand along the animal’s jaw line. “Lady, I must reclaim my mount for the ride…unless you wish to remain my companion, hm?” Arthur smiled sardonically up at Guinevere as he addressed the blue painted female. And without the shelter of his long Roman cloak, her indigo stained thighs revealed almost all that Guinevere had to offer to any man….but Arthur respectfully averted his gaze and waited for the ‘lady’ to dismount as he offered her his outstretched hand. Optio Scipio sat still, tall and proud on his mount close at hand - quietly observing the brief discussion between Roman Commander and Barbarian Wizard. There was much to learn from this brief exchange...and much that Amadeus could use to his advantage. Derfel Derfel had followed along just a step behind Lancelot as the dark knight led their guest towards the building that held the rooms set aside to house officers’ wives or other visiting dignitaries.
Derfel silently prayed to Bel for Arthur’s safe return at the mention of their Commander and his ride to Merlin. He glanced back over his shoulder to note the stablehands leading away the lady’s mount and hopefully seeing to her entourage as well. Lancelot had said that Derfel was to guard the Woad prisoner, so he felt fairly confident that he’d not have to play guide to the opulent Roman men who had arrived with the lady. He followed after Lancelot as they arrived at the building and the three of them entered into the torchlit coridore. Within moments they had arrived at the rooms Lancelot had chosen for Lady Isabella.
By the gods but Derfel had to bite hard at his own tongue to keep from laughing out loud at the way this lady dressed down Lancelot. But he knew that he himself surely appeared no better in the lady’s eyes – scruffy beard and long disheveled blonde hair and she could probably guess that Derfel was not Sarmatian or of noble Roman blood either. The knight was actually quite glad the discussion had remained strickly between Lancelot and the Lady Isabella. He rested a hand on the hilt of his sword and waited while the lady stepped through the threshold of the rooms.
Derfel’s eyebrows rose to his hairline at the insult, but he remained silent. Let Lancelot deal with her as it is not my place. The lady did not know Lancelot, obviously. But Arthur would sort this out when the Commander returned….if he returned. |
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| golden_trillium | Jun 3 2010, 12:55 PM Post #109 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Wed Dec 24, 2008 1:23 pm Merlin
“Excellent,” Merlin gave Arthur a deep nod of acknowledgement, his eyes dropping briefly down to the dead-leafy, snow-crusted ground, then back up again to the Roman Commander- never take your eyes off your enemy if you could help it. Merlin could only assume that Arthur referred to Neeria, who was still a prisoner, and to Fiona- and he would be glad to have them back, though he still had some questions about Neeria’s loyalty to ask. Despite that, though…the fewer of his people behind those stone walls the better. Maybe even Fiona would have seen the light by now and better understand her people’s struggle. “I would do the same if we had any of your people in my keeping- but fortunately or unfortunately, we do not.” Merlin’s smile there was once again unpleasant, but brief. They had taken no prisoners- but they had killed plenty. Many Woads might have gone to the Gods, but they had taken enough enemies with them to give Arthur and his men something to think about. On that slightly sinister note, Merlin took an accommodating step back as Arthur turned to his horse and took the white beast’s reins- with a few words for Guinevere, who still perched on the animal’s back.
“My people still have dead to bury honorably, so they will escort you back to where you met them and then you may be on your way,” Merlin put in in a soft, steely voice, eying his daughter, though she was not immediately looking at him. “Guinevere may ride with you if she so chooses- for this little time,” the Woad leader continued magnanimously, tilting his head to one side as he waited for a reaction to that. He was interested- very interested- to see what she would say, but at the same time, he wished to limit their interactions for now- until he had determined whether their connection could be useful to him or not. In any case, though, this little ride was an intriguing experiment, and one which Merlin was content to continue for a while yet. A little while. His eyes fixed on the unlikely pair, Merlin took another step back as he gestured to Nolan and the rest of his people to get ready to turn around and return. They would be watchful, Merlin knew- they would not allow any false steps, but then, from Arthur, Merlin did not really expect them. Unlike, say, from the Optio, Amadeus Scipio, who sat looking down his long nose at them from his horse nearby. Merlin allowed himself a small, smug smile in the Optio's direction, before returning his attention to the matter at hand. |
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| golden_trillium | Jun 3 2010, 12:56 PM Post #110 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Thu Dec 25, 2008 8:38 am Ione The baby kicked with in her making Ione smile slightly, but warmly. It seemed happy and active, though it did like attention. The weaver put down her weaving, and leaned back in her chair comfortably. There were still some parts of her body that did ache still from her early morning miscarriage, and sometimes just leaning back to rest made them feel a bit better. Ione brought her hands to her stomach, and laid them over where the baby had moved. The baby kicked at her hand, and Ione had to laugh through her tears. Some part of her mind told her that this child was going to be special, and would bring her happiness. Dark chocolate eyes moved to the bustling scene outside her shop, but her thoughts went further than the confines of the fort. To someone who had become a part of her happier thoughts, and where ever he was, Ione prayed to the Gods that he was safe. She bit her lower lip as she tried to imagine him coming home: would he think her foolish if she greeted him the way other women welcomed their men home, or would he welcome it? Had it all just been a dream that he had visited her before he left... some dream her mind had conjured up? If it had been a dream, it had been a wonderful one. Her hand moved over her stomach, and the child calmed a bit, though it was still active. Clouds moved over the sky with the winter wind moving them along. The wind always reminded Ione of her own life, though, not being a deep thinker, really could not corrilate just how, but she knew it must be true... Her gaze moved from the gray scene outside to her newly formed pattern: it looked like a grove of trees against a cream sky. Ione decided to keep the pattern and add some green for the leaves and a bit of a flower color for blossoms. Besides Winter, Ione loved to renewal of life in the Spring time. A noise outside the window caught her attention, and Ione turned to see curious little rosy cheeked faces looking in at her and her work. Ione gave them a smile recognizing Vanora's children, or at least some of them, then they laughed merrily and ran off to play. The smile on Ione's face was still there when a knock sounded at the door. Rising slowly from her loom, Ione made her way to the door, opened it and saw one of her customers who had come by to pick up some work Ione had done for her.... "Won't you come in Flavia?" Ione stepped aside to allow the woman to enter. "Is it ready?" The heavy set woman did not greet Ione which the weaver knew was typical. Flavia was very snobbish and put on airs of superiority though she was only a soldier's wife. Ione closed the door behind the woman, and went over to get the dark blue dress she had fixed. She brought it back to the woman who looked down her nose at the very pregnant weaver. Disgusting to see a single pregnant woman! The very idea! Flavia took the dress and looked it over, and found the work to her satisfaction, but... "Very well, weaver, here is the pay for the work," the husky woman threw some money on the table in front of her, then turned to leave. "When is your husband coming home?" The question brought a smile to her face, "He's gone to war." There was a pause, then. "If there is any other service I can do for you, let me know." She opened the door politely with a smile. Flavia hrumphed and left with no intention of returning. Ione watched the woman disappear around the corner, then closed the door, took up the payment for the fixed dress and locked it in her safe place, and went over to sit by the fire to rest a bit. Once again, all was quiet except for the laughter of the children outside. In her heart, she heard his laugh and his gentle voice.... |
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| golden_trillium | Jun 3 2010, 12:57 PM Post #111 |
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Author: Pinkie Date: Fri Dec 26, 2008 11:45 am Mari The story was inspiring. Mari had never thought of running away before. Quite the opposite - her father had encouraged her to strike out on her own but constantly she had gone back to him, not clinging to him for he would never allow that. But Mari had remained devotedly to her father's side all these long years despite his tormenting behaviour. Listening to this tale was making her wonder. She found herself wondering what it was like to cut her hair and her hand lifted, twirling around a lucious brown curl by her shoulder, her eyes wide as she looked at the page, following Linnette's finger across the scrawls with fascination. When they spoke about trousers and the girl wearing them, Mari let out a surprised laugh. Oh it would be comfortable though, wouldn't it?! Their little interlude was soon to be dashed however. Mari was not a shy girl. Not until quite recently. When the man came to the table she felt a queasy stirring in the pit of her stomach. She looked down to the table and her slender fingers tensed on the wooden table top. He spoke but she tried not to hear. Worried brown eyes darted to Linnette's face and she felt tears well in her own eyse. A mixture of conflicting, terrifying emotions bubbled in her. She knew this had not been the man to rape her but what was to say that he wouldn't do so too? Was Linnette safe? Would he hurt them? Would anyone help? Linnette pushed him away with two fingers and Mari watched in fascination. She looked up at the man but looked away immediately - cowardly not wanting his attention drawn to her. Though she felt so rotten for it because Linnette was hurting so bad already with the loss of her husband... Someone came to their rescue. When the voices became raised Mari's lips formed a tight line of worry and dread and she bowed her head. Beneath the table she reached for Linnette's hand, awkwardly seeking comfort and a bit of reassurance. More shouting and more men came to their aid. Mari shook her head, looking away towards the wall, the back of her head presented to Linnette. The hazel-eyed woman spoke, reassuring Mari that it wasn't always like that in the tavern. And Mari gave a short bite of laughter, turning her tear filled eyes to her, nodding. She bit her bottom lip and looked over Linnette's blushing face towards the men briefly. She wanted Milan all of a sudden. "Do you think we should ... " she asked softly, gesturing towards the door. |
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| golden_trillium | Jun 3 2010, 12:58 PM Post #112 |
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Author: TwistOfShadows Date: Fri Dec 26, 2008 12:23 pm Eyla Eyla’s full lips spilt honey-dripped and flirtatious words. Her mouth formed each word prettily, and her dark eyes were ever intense. She was a petite woman, and yet attracted and demanded attention. Her curvaceous hips swayed as she walked, and her thick skirts contained the beautiful body within. Her body was pulled tight around her torso, and forced her bosoms upwards. They spilled deliciously into view, and yet Eyla showed little embarrassment. Why should she? Half the fortress had viewed her offerings, and she would be a rubbish whore...if she was shy, modest, or reserved. Her skin was golden, and still glowed with the aftermath of sexual repletion. Her pretty dark eyes roamed the fortress as she walked, always seeking richer patrons. Darya, the beautiful and enigmatic Sarmatian was pleasurable company, and yet...Eyla was not the loyal type. She was vehemently shallow and fickle, and would happily drop the nearest for the newest. It was better that way, safer. Attachment and familiarity provoked affection, and the whore had no need for it. She functioned perfectly on her own, and would not change it for the world...
Dull. Boring. Pointless. Eyla looked at the other woman, and lifted her brows incredulously. Clearly Darya needed some man to rip her clothes off, and pleasure these strange tendencies out of the Sarmatian. The whore parted her pink lips to speak, and then decided against it. She laughed. It was a sweet thing, and she touched Darya’s shoulder in comfort. Poor woman. She was reduced to having conversations with birds and wildlife...and that clearly meant she was losing her sanity. Who spoke to birds? Beggars, barbarians, and those that were...odd. Eyla watched Darya from beneath thick eyelashes, and tutted her tongue in disappointment. Oh, but the dark Sarmatian had such potential to be pretty! Not as pretty as Eyla herself, but not all women were blessed, were they? There were certain things she would change about Darya though...she would certainly give the bird into the care of the cooks, and then sort out the woman’s dress sense. Bl;ack looked appealing on men...but on women? Boring. She needed livening up...and soon. Lord knew Arthur must desire something remotely feminine in his bed...!
They reached the Sarmatian’s room, and Eyla listened, only half interested. She wasn’t being paid, after all? Eyla flicked her long hair over her shoulders, and several dark curls cascaded down her small and golden back. She lifted a delicate hand up to her face, and toyed with one of her curls. Several chunky golden bangles cluttered down to her forearm, and she smiled to herself. Darya was thoughtful? Just as boring as misery, hmm? Eyla entered the Sarmatian’s rooms, and wrinkled her nose at the dull furnishings! Oh, but she must be a wreck! Keeping ugly black birds for company, and living in a place such as ....this? Eyla dropped her hands to her hips, and shook her head in dismay. She heard the woman’s amusement at being called unattractive, and Eyla did not attempt to heal that insult. No. Why should she? But...for a change? Eyla turned her penetrative gaze on the other woman, and arched a sharp eyebrow into her hairline. “Oh it is that bad, Darya, but not hopeless. Not yet.” Eyla was brutal, but did not mean offence. The woman was honest, and she looked up and down the Sarmatian. In dismay. The woman was deathly pale. Where would they begin? Eyla walked over to the Sarmatian, her slippered feet pitter-pattering across the cold floor. She pointed a finger at the bird. “Firstly, I would suggest you lose the bird. Out the window...or in the cook’s stew pot? I do not care. But wildlife has never been a flattering accessory...” Eyla lifted a hand and touched Darya’s cheek. It was almost a tender gesture. She cupped the other woman’s face, and stroked her thumb across the cheekbone. Both suggestively and experimentally. Eyla was not attempting to seduce, not yet anyway...rather, she was... “I also suggest you have a bath. Lavender is the best type of perfume too. It warms your cockles and makes men weak at the knees. Which is never a bad thing when confronted with hunger, poverty...or...” She looked at Eyla and dropped her hand from the Sarmatian’s face. “...Or loneliness, hmm?” Eyla looked into Darya’s face, and wore a pitying expression. Her dark eyes twinkled, but such sympathy only lasted a few seconds...before she laughed. Sweetly... |
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| golden_trillium | Jun 3 2010, 01:00 PM Post #113 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Fri Dec 26, 2008 10:38 pm Linnette
“Mmm…” Linnette glanced surreptitiously back at the arguing, shouting men, then once more scrunched a bit lower in her chair as she curved her fingers around Mari’s with a reassuring squeeze- it was her good hand, so that was possible. The sounds of Malcus’s, Adian’s, and Karl’s voices was a clamor in her ears, ringing though her head and drowning out all else- she was quite sure that every eye in the tavern must be on them, everyone must see that she was the cause of this disturbance! She really wanted more to disappear than to move…but as Linnette looked back in Mari’s big, brown eyes, and saw tears glimmering moistly in them, she realized that Mari was still frightened, a great deal more than she was. She shouldn’t have to sit through this- an innocent girl, not four feet away from yelling, brawling men…Linnette folded her other hand, the bandaged one, over Mari’s as well and twisted around, scanning their most logical exit route. “Yeah..come on.” Linnette let go of Mari’s hand and hastily pulled the book towards her, then, half-standing up, gathered all of Maris’ sheets and scraps of drawing paper to her in a couple of efficient motions, stacking them together and then tucking the whole mess inside the book; the large sheets stuck out, of course, but this way they were a good deal more contained. What Mari really needed was a folder, Linnette thought inconsequentially as she grabbed for the pencil before it could roll off the table and held it out to Mari, taking charge of the book and papers herself. Better than than have Mari possibly drop them at a crucial moment. “This way.” Linnette stood up and slid out from between table and chair, tucking the book and papers safely under one arm and tossing her cloak hurriedly over her with one hand- it hung lopsided over her one shoulder that way, but she was not about to adjust it now. She held out that hand now again for Mari to take, eying the men warily, the better to stay out of their way- but not too obviously, with her head bowed. Hopefully they could just duck by without being noted and make their escape. |
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| golden_trillium | Jun 3 2010, 01:00 PM Post #114 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Sat Dec 27, 2008 6:26 pm Adian and Vanora Vanora watched the whole thing from a safe distance now, and was a bit sad when she saw Mari and Linnette leave, though Mari looked a bit distressed at the whole situation... Linnette as well. Adian was equally as upset to see that the two women had to leave the tavern. Had it been his fault again? Trying to do something nice for another and having the whole thing backfire on you. Why was this day just not worth even getting out of bed for? Looking from the drunken man, to the dark haired man who had broken up the fight before he had a chance to teach the blaggard a lesson in manners. I have no doubt in my mind, you drunken son of a bitch, that we will meet again, and I will knock your bloody head into the ground if I ever see you harass either of those two women, or any other woman here. The thought rang in his head while he raised his hands in surrender (this time). He looked to this unknown man who had spoken with authority in this, wondering why he had been so upset that Adian had tried to save the two women form this piece of slug bait. Vanora watched as Adian moved from Karl knowing that he could have killed the man, or at least seriously injured him. From what she had seen of the carpenter, he had a bad temper, but then so did Malcus. Apparently, Adian did not know who Malcus was nor Karl, but when the Captain spoke, Adian had been wise to surrender. For his part, Adian felt bad that he may have embarrassed Linnette and the other woman inadvertantly, and for that he was sorry. It seemed that no matter what good he did, something just went wrong, or something he said was just not right. Turning to the dark haired man, Adian said, "I apologize for my actions, sir..." With his hands easy at his sides, Adian backed up toward his chair and took up his cloak as well as the tool he had come to retrieve. "I will take my leave, and get back to my work." Looking back at Tatiana who had remained silent, Adian turned back to the drunken Karl, and narrowed his eyes letting the man know that he'd be watching him, lastly, Adian turned back to the dark haired man and bowed slightly in respect.... |
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| golden_trillium | Jun 3 2010, 01:02 PM Post #115 |
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Author: Darya Date: Sun Dec 28, 2008 1:01 pm Darya When they entered her room, Darya frowned slightly at Eyla’s reaction. After all, the other woman had been here before…and should know what the quarters looked like. No, they did not really give away that a woman was staying here…it was rather dark with not much furniture and there was not much of decoration of any kind in it either. A few candles and a few extra pillows. All else was plain and practical. Pretty much like in… Dear Gods, make me forget this thought immediately… But it was hard to deny: her room was anything but female…until one looked into the drawers. It was just another room among all the others around that belonged to the knights, of which she had seen only Lancelot’s from the inside so far. And their rooms had a lot in common. The female Sarmatian’s frown deepened at this and she wondered if this little maybe insignificant fact was good or bad. Her only other comparison was Arthur’s quarters…but those did not count. He was the Commander and Roman…his quarters were large and really comfortable; just as it should be. Darya shook her head to herself and wondered when exactly she had started to care about what the place she was staying at looked like. It was fine to her; better than anything she had had before. And yet Eyla’s obvious disapproving of it was bugging her for some reason. Was it because of the whore’s earlier 'unattractive'-statement? Was it…? Then two small hands cupped her face and Darya lowered her gaze a little to meet Eyla’s…
A while ago, any person talking to her the way Eyla was doing right now – very close to, if not insulting – would have seriously played with his or her life. Also she had to swallow a comment regarding wildlife actually being a quite flattering accessory where she came from. However, nowadays the Sarmatian mostly knew how to control her temper…more or less. Instead Darya had no idea how to react in this specific case right now. A confusing, perhaps slightly annoying, yet wonderfully distracting situation for her. And even though the dark-haired was not totally convinced yet, it sort of did dawn on her that maybe it would not hurt to change a few things about her looks. Pursing her lips a little, Darya tipped her head to a side and gave Eyla’s words serious second thoughts. Things would change for her anyway in a very near future. Her appearance would change…all coming along with the new life that was growing inside her womb. And who knew…maybe Arthur would actually like a few changes in her way of dressing and such? She could start small…and see how things work, right? As so long as Eyla would only help her to change something about her looks…and perhaps lighten her attitude…so be it… The female Sarmatian sighed when the other woman let go of her face again. “Very well…”, Darya finally said and gave Eyla a brief yet honest smile before brushing past the whore to walk towards the window. She let Tristan’s hawk perch itself on the window-sill, welcoming the loss of its weight on her arm, and adjusted the drapery of her ruby-black coloured dress before turning around to face Eyla again. “But the bird is going nowhere but remains here…”, she then added with a slightly arched eyebrow, “…the last thing I need is Tristan being angry with me.” With that, the dark-haired smirked slightly and put a hand on her hip. “And a bath is exactly what I had in mind anyway, “a pause and Darya could not help but point a finger at Eyla, “you are up for quite a challenge if you truly think I’m not a totally lost case yet…” Then she stood right before the other woman again dared to wind one of Eyla’s long locks about her index-finger before letting it spring back into its actually place again. “You think you are ready for such a different…challenge?” |
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| golden_trillium | Jun 3 2010, 01:03 PM Post #116 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Sun Dec 28, 2008 10:50 pm Brendyn Things were quiet and tense for a moment, and Brendyn studied those who had also fallen silent about him. One thing was sure, if Merlin did not take peace, he was a fool risking more innocent lives to death and war. The soldier shifted slightly in his saddle and left his one hand rest on his upper leg while holding the reins in the other. He was just dog tired, and wanted nothing more than to crawl under some worm blankets and go to sleep until his next night watch, or whatever duty awaited him back at the fort. In the midst of the tenseness, Brendyn had had a chance to look about him at the tall firs and just take in the natural beauty of the forest around them. He had forgotten how lovely forests were....
Brendyn eyed the woad leader cautiously, his eyes moving to the woads standing about, eyes transfixed on their fearless leader. So the prisoners at the fort were to be left go, well two had already escaped, but were there others hiding or being kept there? Had he heard right? There was to be no peace? Whatever had happened here the day before, Brendyn was sure that it had something to do with the woad leader's decision. he did not let his disappointment show, and wondered if Arthur felt the same disappointment. He could not see the Roman Commander's face, but felt there had to be some sort of disappointment there. Brendyn's eyes were alert now watching to see if any of the blue devils would dare go back on Merlin's word, but he also kept his eyes on Arthur as he addressed Guinevere though he really could not hear what was said. Tyranus pawed at the frozen earth again, and shook his black head letting the wind play through his long mane. Brendyn reached out and stroked the horse's neck and made ready to follow Arthur out of the forest when he gave the signal to do so. The mission had, to Brendyn, accomplished nothing, but instead showed a Commander that he was proud to serve. Arthur was everything Antonius had said he was.... |
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| golden_trillium | Jun 3 2010, 01:05 PM Post #117 |
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Author: Pinkie Date: Mon Dec 29, 2008 5:40 am Amadeus Try as he might to appear non-plussed by this meet & greet, Amadeus couldn't keep the slight curl of his lips away when he looked at Merlin. Here was everything that Rome despised, everything that Rome sought to eradicate from the world. He was a mere man and yet he was viewed as some kind of warlock, a wizard, a black magician. He was pagan and he was unwilling to recognise the might and strength and God-given right of Rome to be in control. Did this Briton not realise that his country and his people would benefit from Rome's influence? They could be civilised... Merlin himself might be given some villa to the north with ample lands and servants and a damn bath too! The young Optio started to chew the inside of his cheek as he lisened to Arthur. He ensured he was close enough and felt a sickening bilious surge to his throat at how Arthur phrased certain things. It was as if he thought that Merlin was due any respect at all. Of course it might have been a show, a mere device to ensure that Merlin did hsi bidding, but when the magician declined Arthur's 'request' Amadeus knew that that was not the case. His grey eyes dropped and he pursed his lips, long, slender fingers curling around the leather strap of the reins. Oh it was a terribly gracious affair but it galled... Amadeus looked up. He looked at Guinevere darkly and then down at Arthur who was accepting this defeat meekly. With no threats, no defiance, no utterings of Rome's good intentions or Rome's might!
Well at least that Amadeus could agree and subscribe to. He gave a stiff nod of his head, relishing the thought of turning the woad from teh fortress out into the cold winter forest. Let them fend for themselves! Let them return to their leader disgraced and traitorous! And let him deal with them as only a barbarian could do. The Optio straightened in his saddle, looking to Arthur as he approached his horse once more. He glanced over his shoulder to ensure the other men were prepared, his eyes inadvertently scanning the woads that surrounded them too. It was easy to forget that they were there so still and quiet did they stand. He shifted in the saddle, readying for their departure, eager to return to Badon for he had a letter to dispatch. One that only he could send on it's way. Galahad Galahad did feel bad that he had made the kid cry but he couldn't force himself to wallow in that feeling when he had so many other more interesting and self-torturing miseries to wallow in instead. His gentle blue eyes were filled with a despondent light, an unwillingess to do anything for himself. He walked a bit lopsidedly for a while then threw his boot onto teh ground and stuffed his foot into it. He still walked a bit stiffly, a wave of lines across his forehead as he came to terms with the new stiffnesses and aches that his body had aqcuired during this last mission. Of course alot of his aches and pains right now were because of his inebriated scuffle with Kolya, Lancelot & Gawain but that didn't mean it wasn't part and parcel of hsi service to Rome. The young knight could blame Rome for Alina betraying him because he had been sent off to some battle that had little to nothing to do with him and whilst he was gone his woman had sought the company of a man who was around more often than he was. Did he blame her? Yeah! Did he blame Kolya? Hell yeah! And did he blame Rome? Of course he did. Scowling, the young Sarmatian looked up and saw Lancelot and Derfel walking across the courtyard with a noble woman. The knight stopped and goggled at her a moment but carried on on his way when they disappeared out of sight. He wasn't sure he would be welcomed by Lancelot right now. Or Gawain. Pouting, Galahad decided to just go to the fortress kitchens and see if there was any food to be had there. It meant he wouldn't have to make small talk with anyone in the tavern. |
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| golden_trillium | Jun 3 2010, 01:06 PM Post #118 |
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Author: LadyCastus Date: Mon Dec 29, 2008 4:46 pm Neeria Neeria looked at the tall healer walking next to her. The woman was quite beautiful with her strange, short-cut hair and piercing blue eyes. There was a sadness about her that was clear and Neeria couldn't help but wonder about the other woman's life and what could have caused her sadness. Neeve was probably another victim of the war whose friends and relatives had been killed one way or another. Maybe Neeve once had a husband, a father, brother, cousin, uncle...someone that had been viciously murdered in front of her. Maybe the healer, herself, had been hurt or injured in the war. Perhaps any one of those things, if not all of them, were the cause of Neeve's hidden sadness. Neeria knew all about sadness. It was a familiar friend to her weary, war-torn heart. Sadness is what drove her to violence but it is also what drove her to want a different life. Mikal could never come back. He could never love and protect her again and she would never bear his son. Yes, sadness was etched in stone in her weary soul but Neeria was a survivor. She would make it, make a new life for herself, and if that meant she had to remain here, among her former? enemies, then so be it. But the woad knew she wasn't wanted by these people, the dark knight and Neeve had made that clear. Neeria wanted a life of peace, and she would prefer that life with her own kin but she was sure they would never allow her to return to them. Neeria's heart skipped a beat when she thought of Merlin. She missed him terribly, she longed to talk to him, to be with him again. She needed to hear his voice, talk to Guinevere and Mona. A lump formed in her throat which caused her to swallow hard and push down the pain in her chest. Neeria knew she was lucky to be alive, and being here behind the Wall wasn't as bad a fate that had met Mikel and Sirus. She'd lost so many that she'd once loved and fought beside. Sadness
A sudden burst of warm air shook Neeria out of her thoughts. She and Neeve stood in front of a tall building of obvious Roman construction. There were tall columns in front and a bust of some noble mounted on a shorter column just beside the door. Neeria scrunched her nose up like she smelled something awful. Romans. Bastards! All of them. Arthur was half Roman but his native half seemed to dictate his heart. He was merciful - something Neeria had not known about him. Arthur had been merciful to her, that much she recognized. He could have killed her on the spot when she'd attacked him and he'd gained control. To hell with her offer to take him to Merlin, Arthur had spared her life and that still held a measure of disbelief to the woad. So why is he still loyal to the Roman devil? she wondered. You cannot serve two masters, Artorius. "I don't believe you, healer," Neeria said and smiled wickedly at Neeve. "Everyone has or had someone, somewhere," The woad pushed the thoughts of Arthur, Mikel, Sirus, Merlin - all of that - down into the pit of her stomach as Neeve held the door of the baths open for her. Neeria cowered somewhat as they walked into the warm building, a stark contrast to the blistering cold outside. Neeria followed Neeve through the room, looking about, taking in everything. Despite herself, she was almost giddy at the prospect of relieving herself and taking off her filthy clothes. "When can I take off these things?" she asked Neeve, barely giving the healer time to answer before she began to pull at the tunic she wore. |
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| golden_trillium | Jun 3 2010, 01:07 PM Post #119 |
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Author: Lancelot Date: Mon Dec 29, 2008 5:45 pm Lancelot The Sarmatian could feel Derfel at his back as the 'lady' spoke, could feel his cheeks betraying him by heating at the dressing down in her tone, could feel his blood beginning to boil like it hadn't since Arthur had gone on his mission. The mission that might mean the end of Lancelot as well - and if Arthur were gone, then Lancelot was fine with that future for himself. At this moment - if the world blinked out of existance and took him with it, that would be better than the words this strange woman was speaking to him.
Black spots swam behind his eyes, and Lancelot had to fight with everything he had to not draw his sword. Instead, he laughed. Long, and deeply, and he shook his head as the woman kept her back to him as she examined the room. "Then I fear you have no experience with Sarmatians, love, and you have no idea what truly goes on in the world. A sheltered, pitiable, beautiful, caged bird," his tone tripped up and down his register, sounding for all the world like the winged creature he'd compared Isabella to. He pushed past her men and Derfel, and bowed formally and perfectly. "I have my own duty to attend to - and it does not include watching over ungrateful and surprise guests. I leave you to Arthur when he returns, lady. Perhaps Cadarn here will take pity on you and send his woman to assist you. A fine and pleasant day to you, Lady Isabella Araceli. Welcome most humbly to my home." He turned on his heel and exited the room, leaving her where she was. He didn't care anymore - no woman spoke to him like that! No one showed up unexpectedly and surprised him when he had plenty of other things on his plate! For fuck's sake, could he bathe??? "Derfel," he barked, and then sighed as he gained the door that lead to the courtyard. "I'll send someone to see to her. A page, or something. Come on - let's get to our real duty before I decide to use her luggage as a practice dummy for this sword." He drew it at last, and taking a few broad swings - as best he could at the edge of the door - he allowed himself to breathe as he waited for the other knight. I am done with others. I will follow Arthur's second directive - and take care of myself for a moment. If only to see myself clean before - if I have to - ride to the Magician. |
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| golden_trillium | Jun 3 2010, 01:08 PM Post #120 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Tue Dec 30, 2008 9:59 am Adian and Vanora Vanora looked about at all of those who had stopped eating to gawk at the fight which Malcus had broken up, or so she thought. Sometimes men took their fights elsewhere, or so Bors had told her. Right now, Adian and Malcus both looked like storm clouds competing for a spot to storm on. While Mari and Linnette made ready to just leave the "party" which Vanora did not blame them. Adian was embarrassed and livid. His narrowed eyes lingered on Karl a few moments more, before grabbing his cloak and the tool he had come to retrieve. He was heartily sorry for having caused Linnette and the other woman embarrassment, and ruining their good time. Adian, who usually knew what to say, said nothing, but offered them an apologetic look, and left the tavern pissed as all hell. So much for trying to do something nice for someone else. The drunken man, Karl and he would meet again, and the next time, he'd beat the tar out of the man. Stepping out into the chilled air did not cool the red hot anger still inside him. The young carpenter moved to the area he had been working on for a while, and flung his cloak to the back of the cart before returning to fix the ruined storage bin.... |
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