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| January 2009 | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jun 3 2010, 01:14 PM (1,512 Views) | |
| golden_trillium | Jun 3 2010, 01:14 PM Post #1 |
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| golden_trillium | Jun 3 2010, 01:14 PM Post #2 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Thu Jan 01, 2009 8:46 am Ione She stood in the dim light of dusk that invaded the shop allowing her thoughts to stray. Since her miscarriage, Ione had had a lot of time to think and grieve. The dark reds and golds mixed with the grays of the setting sun touched her dark auburn hair lending their own colors to the soft waves that fell over her shoulders. Ione put her arms about her body as though giving her self a hug, and hung her head. She and her child were alone, and he (or she) was now her sole responsibility: to feed, clothe and care for it, but also to love and protect it. The last woad attack had scared her... ... The weaver walked across the room the where she had placed Titrus's new cloak, and allowed her small, slender hand to run over the package. She missed him more than she had cared to admit. Oh, the warm feelings he gave her when he was around. The hand that was running over the package plainly showed off the ring that Javier had placed there: his mother's ring. Ione moved her hand from the package, and fingered the ring before removing it. Looking at it a bit longer, she moved to a place next to the shelves where she removed a stone. Placing the ring on the ledge, Ione replaced the stone, hiding the ring forever... Out of sight, out of mind. The weaver moved back to the package and picked it up, walked to the door, and set it down for a moment only to place her heavy cloak over her shoulders, then, picking it up again, stepped out of the house locking the door behind her. Ione stopped and looked up at the colored Winter sky taking in a good inhale of the cold early night air before beginning her walk to Titrus's quarters to deliver the cloak. Ione passed by folks, but said nothing to them... |
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| golden_trillium | Jun 3 2010, 01:15 PM Post #3 |
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Author: LadyCastus Date: Thu Jan 01, 2009 11:02 pm Karl and Malcus Barbattus Before Malcus could intervene completely, Adian gave a swift kick to Karl's groin. Whether it was his insolence or the affects of all the liquor he'd consumed, Karl bent over, not in pain, but in laughter at the young man's attempt to do him harm. "My little fishes are stronger than that you little bastard!" Karl yelled, "I've got balls of steel, HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHA!" The blond's face turned a crimson red with anger and Karl took a step in Adian's direction, dead set on killing him. The Roman's hand went to the small dagger tucked away in his waistbelt. "I'll gut you like a little pig!" he growled. "That's fucking enough! Karl!" Malcus bellowed and yanked Karl by the scruff of his neck, pulling him backwards. Karl almost tripped over his own big feet. Captain Barbattus got so close in Karl's face, their lips practically touched. "Listen to me Karl, because I'm only going to say this once. Take heed or I will whelp you good with my whip until your cracked, ashy skin barely hangs onto your sorry ass." Malcus pushed Karl and took a step backward. Karl lowered his head sheepishly and fought to stand upright, wobbling dangerously from left to right. The room was spinning and Karl desperately wanted to grab onto something. But he fought the dizziness with all his might and willed himself to stand up straight. He took one of his big paws and ran it through his dirty, tangled hair. Karl rolled his eyes to the ceiling and tried to count to 5. He got as far as 3. "That's better," Malcus continued, taking a deep breath. "I've had a pretty uneventful afternoon in the commander's absence..." Karl looked up at Malcus, locking his blue eyes onto the captain's dark stare. Karl knew Barbattus had been locked up with that pretty whore earlier. I'll just bet you more excitement than you're admitting to, captain the soldier thought to himself but didn't dare say out loud. "...and I'm not going to let you fuck it all up by acting like a little shit. Now, I'm going back over to my table and finish the meal Vanora has prepared for me. And you? You're either going to sit down and finish your drink, shut the fuck up and leave those ladies alone, go home and sleep it off or my personal favorite - I'll kick the shit of you. Which do you prefer? You have exactly 2 seconds to respond." Karl looked back down at the floor. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other then looked at Malcus like a scolded child who'd gotten caught stealing something. "I was only having fun with the lady, captain. I'm ... er ... I'm..." Karl lowered his voice so only Malcus could hear "...I'm sorry...er...sir," he said just above a whisper. "Never mind. Stay out of trouble or I'll be back. Next time there won't be a conversation. I'll simply send you to the dungeons." The captain turned from Karl and looked at Adian. He eyed the man from head to toe and back up. "Keep moving, you've done your damage," he said dismissively. Malcus had no desire to mix words with Adian. He'd had his fill with shit today. First Mirtha, now this. Fuck. "My apologies, ladies," he said to Linnette and Mari with a slight tap of his heels. "I doubt my man gives you any further trouble and if he does, you need only ask for me, Captain Barbattus, and I will assist you immediately." Malcus nodded his head at them and smiled. Then he turned back to Karl, giving him a final warning glare. "Vanora!" he yelled as he headed back to his table in the rear, "bring me another ale, my love!!" Karl scoffed as Malcus made his way back to his table in the back of the tavern. He caught Adian's eye just as the young man made his way to the tavern door. "We'll dance again, you and me, he mouthed to Adian, praying that the young man could read lips. Karl balled a fist and put it up to each of his eyes and smiled. Then he turned and leered at Linnette. He focused his attention on her breasts and smiled wickedly. Karl winked at her and blew a kiss. "Until next time," he whispered, then took another drink out of his tankard, draining it. |
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| golden_trillium | Jun 3 2010, 01:16 PM Post #4 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Fri Jan 02, 2009 2:22 pm Vanora and Ione Leave it to Malcus to clean thing up good and proper. Vanora wished the drunken Karl would just leave the premesis, sober up then come back and enjoy himself. In his present state, Vanora saw him as a danger of sorts to the other customers. She had moved back a ways so that if anything happened, she was safe... though she wished Linnette and Mari were in a safer place. Brown eyes watched as Adian removed himself from the situation, and left the tavern. No doubt he had a lot more work to do and it was already dusk. Wenches began to move about to clean up the area, picking up the chair, and whatever else had been cast about. When the situation was settled (or so Vanora hoped), Malcus had made his way back to his table...
Another tankard? Malcus, I'd give you a keg if you asked for it... "Right away, Malcus," Vanora replied with a smile. She moved behind the counter, took a tankard, and drew ale from the freshly changed keg. The red-head took the new tankard to the Roman Captain, and set it down on the table. "Here ya go, Malcus." Then in a lower whisper, while she wiped down the table though it didn't need it, "it is on the house, Captain. Thank you." Before she could get another word out, the door opened, and in stepped Ione, looking very drawn and tired... and very pregnant, though not as big as she had recalled seeing her. She came over to where Vanora was talking to a customer (Malcus), and greeted her with a nod, "A mug of hot mint tea, when you have a chance, Vanora... and a small bowl of soup." Ione said softly. Her eyes moved to the young man Vanora was talking to, and she nodded to him recognizing him as one of her customers, then moved to a table a bit away form everyone. Ione took off the hood of her cloak, and rubbed her hands together... All she wanted to do was to be left alone... |
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| golden_trillium | Jun 3 2010, 01:19 PM Post #5 |
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Author: TwistOfShadows Date: Sat Jan 03, 2009 8:07 am Guinevere The woodland sang with the song of a thousand voices. Gentle breezes tussled at the leaves, rustling them and sending a whisper across Briton. There was birdsong. Faint, bright, ande beautiful amidst the snow-covered trees. The frost that coated the ground was a blanket of deep white, and the air was chilled with it. There was the random snap of twigs in the undergrowth, and then the murmering of voiced negotiations. The gush of water in the ford was strong, and demanded recognition. Guinevere of Briton sat atop Casti, and felt the heat of the horse’s body. His warm coat pressed against her bare thighs, and she breathed a small mist from her lips. Merlin had silenced her speech, her involvement, and the woman nodded obediently. She had spoken her part. There was little more to voice, and so she remained quiet. Her dark eyes watched her father and Arthur, and grew darker, blacker, in their lustre. Did she wish Arthur to fail and fall? Yes, and yes again. It was a strange friendship between them, a comfortable understanding...but he remained the enemy. There was no denying it. Even though she had previously sat between his hot legs, there had been no truce. Not truly. Just momentary peace, as transient as the surrounding seasons...
Guinevere had not responded. It was pride, and defiance. The Woad woman sat atop Arthur’s impressive warhorse, and felt his rough hand grasp the pommel of the saddle. His bare knuckles brushed against the bar skin on the inside of her thighs, and she gritted her teeth for a moment. It was touch, gentle, accidental...and Arthur swung up into the saddle behind her. She looked at her father, through thick and dark eyelashes, and nodded her head slowly. Arthur would not harm her. He was not cruel, nor likely to assault a harmless woman. Oh, but the thought brought a smile to her lips. It curled at her petulant mouth, slow and calculated. Guinevere was not harmless. She had strangled men with her bare hands, and felt Rome’s blood coat her thin fingers. She was a warrior too. Strong, intelligent, and relentless in pursuit. Arthur’s thighs surrounded her once more, and she felt his hand touch her abdomen. The woman lifted her small hand onto his, grasping it. Almost protectively, but likely a reminder of her presence. “Very.” She answered Arthur. Her voice was confident, and contained the mild taint of smugness. She lifted her chin, and felt his stubbled jaw assault her delicate cheekbone. “I do not think that was the outcome you sought, Arthur. Perhaps killing our people and then seeking peace...is not my father’s preferred path. I would advise a different approach next time...” Guinevere spoke smoothly, and felt the cold breezes touch her face. She breathed a short laugh, and tilted her face closer to Arthur’s. She rested her forehead into his warm neck, and smiled lazily to herself. Yes, she was comfortable atop the enemy’s horse...and it was always interesting with Arthur. Half Roman, Half British...and yet more British than Roman. Only his impressive attire spoke otherwise, and Guinevere lifted a hand to touch his cloak. She fingered the red material tenderly, and spoke again. “My father is a good man, and he is guided by the gods. You should not play with fire, Artorius...” Eyla Oh, but Eyla was not cruel! She was deliciously honest and flirtatious! The pretty whore stood next to Darya, and pouted her full lips at the Sarmatian. Her hands pressed perfectly into her curvaceous hips, and her skirts spilled out around her tanned ankles. There was something beautifully effortless about Eyla. Was it the twinkle in her eye? The linger of a smile? Or perhaps the small and playful mannerisms that made her difficult to dislike? The whore was attempting to seduce Arthur Castus, Darya’s own lover, and yet here she was...being treated kindly and most wonderfully. It was amusing! Darya was surely losing her sanity. She had spent days chatting to birds and wildlife, and now she was being friendly with her competition! Eyla could almost laugh, and yet...she did not. She looked at the other woman pitifully, and tilted her head to the side. She wore a pitying expression, and did not seek to hide her worry. A slight frown caressed her exotic features, and she pouted thoughtfully. Was Darya sick? Dying? Or merely...lost in this strange world of hers? Eyla looked intently at the other woman...and then she shrugged. Well, Eyla was not a doctor was she? Why ponder upon things she could not change? It was pointless.
Darya reached out to Eyla’s hair, and curled a dark tendril around her finger. Was she flirting already? The whore tilted her head to the side, and smiled cheekily. There was intensity in her gaze, and naughty intent...and Eyla did not seek to disguise it. She glanced down into the woman’s bosom once more, and sucked her bottom lip into her mouth. What harm could it do? Darya would never be as beautiful as Eyla, but she could adapt her dark looks into pretty perfection. There was a desperate need for femininity, and...Eyla could help. But did she want to? There was money to be made within the fortress, and acting as a stylist was not her business...and yet? She could delve into Darya’s mind, and discover a few things. She could irk Arthur with the clues that she was still sharing his lover’s bed...oh, how delicious! Eyla looked up into the dark Sarmatian’s eyes and watched her brush past her. “Oh, sweet lady, I am always game for a challenge. It makes the pursuit so much....sweeter...” Eyla purred the words, and turned slowly to face Darya. Her lashes were lowered dangerously, and she approached the other woman again. Eyla would not be ignored, and she would be listened to. Standing before the dark Sarmatian, she lifted a small hand to the top of the woman’s bodice. She fingered the material softly, brushing the smallest fingertips against Darya’s breasts. The delightful curve, and Eyla spoke again. “We shall have a bath, sweet lady. Together. And I will analyse your body bit by bit...” She paused, and licked her lips softly. “And then we shall discover things to change, to adapt, to emphasize. You are my little challenge...so let’s see if we can get every man in the fortress desperate to bed you. Let’s put a pretty smile on those depressed lips of yours...” Eyla leant into Darya’s face, close enough to kiss her...but then withdrew. She pulled away from the dark Sarmatian, and smiled mischievously. This would be an interesting endeavour... |
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| golden_trillium | Jun 3 2010, 01:21 PM Post #6 |
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Author: Darya Date: Sat Jan 03, 2009 10:59 am Neeve
Piercing blue eyes narrowed at the Woad when Neeria finally brushed past Neeve to enter the bath-house. The healer had no intention to get even more involved in a discussion about family and her personal life in general. Her past…what had happened to her family, it was something she had never talked about to anyone. No one knew details. Not even the handful of people she actually trusted; like Arthur…or Percival. Her family had always been her precious…and even though they all were dead now, they still were. In all truth, the raven-haired was not sure if her twin brother was indeed dead for he had been alive when she had seen him for the last time, but to think he was dead, too, made it easier for her to deal with his absence and with the fact that a fire had made it impossible for her to get to him back then. Of course it would be so easy and maybe even a powerful verbal weapon to tell Neeria in detail who and how her family had been killed. That it had been Woads. That those Woads had not cared that they were slaughtering what Neeria herself kept referring to as kin. But no…those memories and the pain connected to them were Neeve’s private matters. And they would remain just that. In fact, a Woad was the very last person she would ever consider sharing them with. End of discussion. Thus the Briton decided to just ignore Neeria’s words and merely followed the other woman into the bath-house. She rolled her shoulders a little when the steamy warmth of the building embraced her slender body. The familiar scent of clean warm water and a few herbs reached the healer’s nostrils. Neeve could tell from Neeria’s posture that the Woad was – as expected – quite impressed by the bath. Well, at least she had not passed out…yet. Smirking slightly to herself, the tall woman led the smaller one past the men’s area and held the dividing curtain open for the Woad to step into the women’s area. Thankfully, the men’s part had been empty for Neeve still feared lots of questions when being seen with a Woad by her side. Especially by some of the soldiers… Then they both were in the ladies’ area and Neeve found this part empty, too. Good. She approached one of the benches, where some sponges and towels had been placed for use. The healer grabbed one of the towels and was just about to explain theirs as well as the sponges’ usefulness to the Woad, when…
The Briton’s mouth dropped open to react to Neeria, but a definitely male yet familiar voice stopped her from doing so. Neeve’s head whipped around and she saw Derfel standing at the very edge between the two bathing areas. She furrowed her brow at his behavior which was that of…well, somewhere between gentlemen and young boy. However, the healer was more than grateful for his arrival…even though he seemed to have lost Lancelot somewhere on the way. Ah well, she would deal with the First Knight later. “Derfel!”, Neeve heard herself almost exclaiming in delight for she was honestly glad to see him, “don’t be shy…step in. Our prisoner …is not of the shy kind either, trust me…” And with her free hand, she motioned for the knight to come closer. Gods, was he blushing because Neeria was already about to pull her tunic over her head? Then Neeve looked at Neeria. “Well, since it’s not common to get into the water fully dressed, you may take your clothes off now. Put them on one of the benches. These…”, with that, she showed the other woman the sponge and the towel in her hand, “…are to be used. One is a sponge that helps to scrub dirt of the skin, the other’s a towel that is used to get dry after the bath. Understood?” Before the Woad even had the chance to answer, the healer pointed at Derfel, “and this is your new guard. His name is Derfel, he is one of Arthur’s trusted knights…” Then the Briton’s blue gaze shifted towards the Saxon once more. “Derfel, this is Neeria…the Woad prisoner. I take it Lancelot has given you the details?” Tilting her head a little, Neeve gave the knight a questioning glance and prayed to the Gods that Derfel knew all about his task here… |
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| golden_trillium | Jun 5 2010, 12:36 AM Post #7 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Sat Jan 03, 2009 12:04 pm Linnette With her arm around Mari, bandaged hand resting loosely on the girl’s shoulder, and the book and drawings tucked under her other arm, Linnette skirted the argument and started off across the tavern towards the doors, steering Mari and keeping her head down. The men’s disgusting language rang behind her- balls of steel, fuck this and fuck that- no end to it! Linnette’s face, and even neck and chest, burned, and she felt like covering Mari’s ears, but that would only have slowed them down. The tavern had never seemed so big- the distance between the door and where they were now was huge, the expanse of floor yawning endlessly before them, its corners shadowed. Behind them, things seemed to be quieting down- Karl mumbled something- “only having fun”, Malcus answered, still stern, but no longer shouting, and then there were quick steps behind them and Adian passed them, shooting them an apologetic look. Linnette managed only a pained grimace in return. Nearly at the door, on Adian’s heels, Linnette became aware that Malcus was now addressing them, apologizing, and assuring them of no further trouble. Linnette looked back over her shoulder and nodded, but had not the heart to do more than that- out of Malcus’s line of sight, Karl had returned to his table, and now gave Linnette a distinct, predatory leer. Linnette caught her breath and spun back around, fighting the urge to duck even lower, and forcing herself now to hold her head high. Karl wasn’t going anywhere- he was staying there, on pain of considerable extra unpleasantness with Malcus. He wasn’t doing anything at the moment- so he was best ignored. Certainly she shouldn’t scare Mari by mentioning that look. No- she should act like everything was all right. “Sorry about that,” Linnette repeated shakily as they left the tavern, the colder air of the outdoors hitting her like a reviving bucket of water. It was nearly dark now, the lamps had been lit, and a few other cloaked figures were making their way towards the tavern, as it was now almost time for an evening meal, but Linnette paid them no mind, only walked on with her eyes straight ahead, giving no thought for anything except to make sure that Mari was with her. As she went on, though, it became clear that the haphazard toss of her her cloak was not nearly sufficient to keep her warm, and she now removed her arm from Mari’s shoulder in order to adjust things, though she did not break her walking pace as she did so. She wanted to put as much distance between her and Karl as possible. “We’ll go to Dagonet and Saoirse’s, shall we? They should be done bathing by now.” Linnette continued, pushing determinedly on with normal activities, trying to put the incident with Karl to the back of her mind. Actually, though, the idea of going to see Dagonet was taking on its own appeal, independent of any business with drawings- a protective, masculine presence sounded quite appealing, and Dagonet fit that bill, injured though he was. Once more Linnette felt a sharp pang of missing Gedeon, and a stray thought that Drake would have been welcome company as well, or Derfel, or by heaven, even Kolya, who would at least be inclined to be outraged on behalf of his daughter! That was a pretty pass she had come to- wishing for even Kolya’s company! Linnette cast a quick glance behind them- once again assuring herself that no one was following them- and then led the way the rest of the way towards the knights’ quarters, carefully not saying anything more about her worry to Mari. She couldn’t scare her more- she had to be the strong one here. She was the stronger, more knowledgeable one, and she had to act it. She had to just do the sensible thing and get them to Dagonet’s as soon as possible. And it didn’t take long. Only a few minutes later they stood before his door, and Linnette, raising her good hand to knock, noted the small glimmer under the door crack that indicated a fire had been lit. A small sound of movement came from within, too- like someone taking a couple of steps across the floor. The tense band within her chest seemed to ease…the room was occupied. Company…friendliness…people who cared about her. It was all she could do to politely knock rather than simply rushing in. “Oh…here are your drawings,” Linnette added, opening the book as she waited for a response to her knock and holding out the sheaf of loose papers to Mari to take back. |
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| golden_trillium | Jun 5 2010, 12:37 AM Post #8 |
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Author: Eledhwen Date: Sun Jan 04, 2009 7:24 am Bors Well, that was all a bloody great waste of time! Bors sat on his fidgetty steed and glowered at the Woad until Arthur gave the order to move off. All this way just for the cretin to more or less tell them to piss off. It was just a bloody good job it wasn't raining, or Bors would be really pissed. He swung his reins across the thick dark mane of his horse and dug his heel into its girth a little harder than was strictly necessary, causing the creature to shake its head in annoyance as it turned to follow the others. Bors harrumphed, and threw a last frown over his shoulder at the Woads who stood patiently watching them leave. Bloody weird skinny little hairy... weirdos... he grumped to himself as he rode after Arthur. They gave him the creeps. All he wanted to do now was get back to the fort and Vanora's warm soft little body. He grinned to himself just to think about it, and his mood improved slightly. That and the drink Titrus had promised him - he couldn't quite decide which he wanted most. |
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| golden_trillium | Jun 5 2010, 12:39 AM Post #9 |
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Author: LadyCastus Date: Sun Jan 04, 2009 11:02 am Neeria Neeria completely forgot about her conversation with Neeve and the questions she'd asked regarding the healer's family when they stepped inside the massive bath house. She followed Neeve around the thin curtain to the women's side of the building. All the small woad could concentrate on was getting her filthy clothes off and sinking her aching body into the pool of warm water. Neeria struggled to get the big tunic over her waist.
The bath house was empty, not that it mattered to the woad. She practically licked her lips at the waiting water. Neeria grabbed the bottom of her tunic and pulled the dirty garment over her head and slung it to the floor, throwing all caution to the wind along Neeve's instructions to place the dirty clothes on the bench. Neeria's mind was consumed with cleansing herself from the grime that caked her small body. Never before had she held water and bathing in such high regard but now the pool and cleansing was almost cathartic. Like a rebirth, a baptism of sorts. Perhaps, Neeria theorized, she would go down into the water as a filthy prisoner of war, but come out a cleansed, whole person. Maybe things would be different if she could just simply scrub her past off her small body. The woad picked up one of the sponges and looked at it curiously. She'd never seen one before. She put it up to nose and sniffed. There was no smell. Neeria lightly brushed it on her dirty skin and flakes of dead skin floated to the floor. The sponge was rough and Neeria wondered if it would hurt - of course not understanding that the sponge would soften and expand when it got wet. The water smelled of freshness, probably the herbs they used in it and steam vapors wafted just about the surface. There were steaming rocks on the pool's edge and a long bench that stretched the length of the room. Neeria sighed with sheer delight, her exposed her breasts heaving up and down as she did so. It wasn't until then did Neeria hear the man's voice.
Neeria turned and saw the blond man standing at the entrance of the woman's side of the bath. Completely unashamed of her nudity, Neeria simply stared at him as she began to untie her trousers. She cared not whether the man stayed or left, all that concerned her was getting into the bath and washing.
Neeria stared at the blond man for a moment, then resumed struggling with the twisted knot on her trousers. As the knot loosened, Neeria gave it one final tug and the trouser slipped down her hips and onto the bath house floor. The woad stepped out of them, totally naked. She scratched at the thick brown brush of hair between her legs and then under her hairy arms.
Neeria stood in front of the man, fully nude, and stared. He was blond, but he was not the man with Mikel's knife. His cheeks were flushed but Neeria wasn't sure if it was because of her nudity or the warmth of the bath. She didn't really care - she hoped he wouldn't delay her getting into the waiting water. She put her hand on her hip, curled her bottom lip and waited for him to speak. |
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| golden_trillium | Jun 5 2010, 12:40 AM Post #10 |
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Author: Elessars Girl Date: Sun Jan 04, 2009 11:38 am Arthur Evening was fully upon them now; what little dim light had managed to pierce the thick wintry clouds overhead had slipped below the horizon and Arthur found his eyes straining to see the way ahead. But the mounted Woad Smith expertly led the way along the snowy path once they had parted with Merlin; his dark silhouette distinct against the white landscape surrounding them. A few of the soldiers attending Arthur wisely lit torches to aid them all in seeing their way along the snow covered trail. And Guinevere was once again intimately pressed back against Arthur’s chest; her slender shape tightly confined between the Roman’s thick muscular thighs as they rode. Her tiny hand grasped at Arthur’s where it rested over her abdomen…not the soft generous touch of a lover though – firm and confident and almost demanding. Arthur ignored the contact – his mind was elsewhere….. No peace. No word of truce against further bloody confrontations in the days ahead. Arthur’s gut burned and wretched at his failings, and his head ached and throbbed with the pain of his failure in this mission. But he lifted his chin and held his head high and nudged Casti on along the frozen path allowing no outward indication of his internal suffering. Optio Scipio rode close behind; silent and stoic - and unbeknownst to Arthur - plotting and planning and working through the elegant wording he intended to use that would bring down Castus; the letter of correspondence would be crowned with the detailed description of this failed mission.
“Oh?” Arthur answered. The corner of his cold lips curled up into a sarcastic grin. Of course it was not the outcome the Roman had prayed for. And Arthur had only killed those who had attempted to kill him. Guinevere knew this to be true so why goad Arthur into some pointless argument about the day’s events now? He then felt her chilled face press into his stubbled throat….and why take comfort in the Roman’s embrace if she truly despised and so harshly judged his very presence here in God’s winter garden? Arthur’s fingers curled more firmly – more possessively – into the coarse material of Guinevere’s blue stained clothing. Let her believe what she will. “And what would be your council, hm?” Arthur asked evenly; no bait in his tone – only pure and honest curiosity. The discussion would hopefully distract the tormented Commander from the swarm of painful thoughts in his head. No peace. A child on the way and a damaged fortress lacking sufficient stores for the remainder of the harsh winter….and Lancelot awaited Arthur’s return…..Do not leave me here…alone.
In winter, fire is beautiful is it not? Arthur briefly likened Guinevere to a flame burning brightly in the heart of the chilled and frozen British countryside. “Guinevere….you need not convince me of your father’s merits. He must do what he must to protect those in his charge – same as I, too, must follow my conscience and remain steadfast in my duty to protect those in my care,” Arthur’s words were spoken with clarity and conviction despite the quiet nature of his tone as if he and his charge were discussing any mundane subject matter at all. In his heart and in his mind, Arthur knew he followed God’s path in duty and servitude to Rome. He was neither blind nor ignorant to the old ways that still guided Merlin’s people… Igraine had taught her son well in the ways of the gods despite protests by Uther. But young Artorius Castus had chosen to bind himself to God and the Christian teachings of the Roman church. And it had served Arthur well over the years. The small group of knights and solders being escorted by Merlin’s people were moving along the white linen snow covered ground at a relatively good pace. They would soon once again reach the site were Arthur and his men had first come upon Guinevere and the burial party. That also meant that they should be able to reach the high walls of Badon Keep soon….and soon Arthur would face much more strife and bewilderment than he could imagine right at this moment. A roaring fire surely awaited the weary Commander there…among other things that would burn with equal intensity. “What do you long for? Do you lie awake at night imagining your knife at my throat?” Arthur murmured to Guinevere as they rode on – the unlikely couple atop the magnificent white war horse. |
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| golden_trillium | Jun 5 2010, 12:41 AM Post #11 |
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Author: Darya Date: Sun Jan 04, 2009 1:02 pm Darya The moment Darya had granted herself to adjust the skirts of her dress before facing Eyla again had given her the chance to briefly wonder why it was Eyla of all women of Badon that she did not seem to feel the need to keep at a certain distance. Having lived among men or in a forced total solitude for almost all of her life had made it difficult for the female Sarmatian to interact with her own gender. She simply was not used to it…and even though she had tried to change this here at Badon, the dark-haired had often enough failed; Linnesse being the best example for that. It had worked quite well with Einin and even better with Isolde…but Darya had retreated from both again. Why? She did not know. Now there was Eyla…and the smaller woman was a phenomenon of some kind. Eyla seemed to constantly test how far she could go…with everyone. And yet her constant smile and teasing made it hard to push her away. Pensively, Darya pressed her full lips into a thin line for a moment. She had absolutely no doubt that the whore had already tested Arthur’s limits, too…but she trusted the Commander and therewith clung to the thought that he had made Eyla his chambermaid due to his natural mercy and courtesy. And nothing else. And she would live with this thought in mind until proven otherwise…which she hoped with all of her heart would never happen. Closing her eyes briefly, Darya pushed those trains of thoughts away again and focused on what she was hoping to get from Eyla: learning more about femininity…and how to deal with it. Rome had made her a deadly warrior but the dark-haired knew…hoped…that there was more to her. Otherwise she would have no idea how to raise a child. Even if such things as maternal instincts existed, she could certainly not rely on just them, could she? Positive that this plan was a good one and perhaps would even be approved by Arthur, Darya faced Eyla again, awaiting the other woman’s reply. Would she really be up for this?
Somehow the Sarmatian was not completely sure if all this wasn’t merely a game for the whore…but even if so, as so long as it would help her to push her past as far away as possible, she would learn to deal with Eyla’s…different…behavior. However, the examining of her body – as Eyla had put it – would probably end sooner than the whore expected. Yet Darya would let her know in time. No need to discourage the other woman already. Eyla’s comment about making every man in the fortress desperate to bed her made Darya smile wryly. If they succeeded to this point, it would certainly make her feel good…but the female Sarmatian had no intention of sharing her bed with anyone but Arthur. The Gods knew that she would love to see that expression in his eyes again which had been there the very first time they had made love. There had been no words…just exploring hands and lips…and their feelings. So much had happened since that day… Eyla’s fingers at her bodice and her breasts brought the dark-haired back to the here and now. She did not withdraw from the whore’s touch…and merely lifted her chin slightly when the other woman leaned in even closer as she spoke. Darya just focused on the whore’s words for now…and was quite pleased with what she was hearing. A corner of her mouth twitched slightly and she straightened her back. “Good…”, the dark Sarmatian said, “…a bath for sure is the best way to end a day anyway. Anything we need to do or fetch before that?” Darya’s dark gaze never left Eyla…and she adjusted her movements to not let the other woman out of her sight… |
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| golden_trillium | Jun 5 2010, 12:43 AM Post #12 |
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Author: Elessars Girl Date: Sun Jan 04, 2009 1:16 pm Derfel
Neeve’s welcoming voice and brightly lit eyes at least helped to make the young knight feel somewhat more comfortable. But this was still the womens side of the baths….he shifted his weight from one foot to the other before taking a step inside as was bidden by the Briton’s gesturing hand.
Well what was Derfel supposed to say to that? He finally took a couple of steps on into the womens area and tried to look everywhere but at the half naked girl before him. To hide his probably obvious discomfort at being in the room with said half naked girl, Derfel raked his caloused fingers through his blonde hair and waited while Neeve gave further instructions. What did Arthur expect here? Surely the Commander did not mean for the knight to stand guard over a woman while she bathed?? Naked! Lancelot was better suited for such as task, was he not? The Dark Knight would have enjoyed this! By the gods….Derfel worried at his bottom lip and tried to keep his blue eyes on Neeve’s fully clothed form while crossing both his arms behind his back. His sword hung silently and casually at his side and as the sworl of steam from the heated bath water curled around Derfel’s stature – he began to perspire beneath his tunic and thick overcoat. Linnesse is going to skin me alive.
Well at hearing his name again, Derfel automatically looked to Neeve and then helplessly to his charge – ‘Neeria’. She was now completely and seemingly unabashedly naked before the young knight. He was human – and by the gods a man – but he strongly fought the urge to let his gaze roam below the dark-haired woman’s chin. It was not proper that he was here….but it was curious that this Woad seemed completely unphased by her nakedness in his presence. Derfel offered the prisoner a tight-lipped smile; making sure to hold her gaze and nothing more. He was respectful if nothing else…even if this was highly inappropriate in his opinion. Damn that Lancelot. Had the First Knight known he would be ordering Derfel to do something that would jeopardize Linnesse’s trust in him? This was his duty, of that Derfel understood…but why not get someone to watch the naked woman who did not have a wife waiting for him tonight? “Neeria,” Derfel spoke the naked woman’s name with assessing blue eyes and a slight nod of his head – still very mindful to not look at her below her shoulders. May the gods give Derfel strength there as well as he was so tempted to look….curious about Neeria’s people and why she was standing here so boldly before a man she’d no knowledge of while her flesh was completely exposed…but, he was also remembering Lancelot’s warning too – this one had tried to slit Arthur’s throat! However, she looked harmless enough right now…well…she’s bloody naked! Jesu! “Uh…yes,” Derfel then looked to Neeve and cleared his throat before continuing. “…he said I should keep close eye on her for now. Arthur’s orders,” The knight finished with a small questioning look to Neeve. Surely the healer would not leave him alone with the naked woman? What if other women showed up to bathe? Gods. “You are goin’ to see to it that she cleans up and gets dressed before I….I watch her…right?” Derfel asked the question with trepidation and an almost pleading look in his crystal blue eyes. He had half a mind to send Neeria over to the other side of the baths to join Lancelot. Bloody bastard would deserve the interuption. |
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| golden_trillium | Jun 5 2010, 12:44 AM Post #13 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Sun Jan 04, 2009 9:33 pm Brendyn So this was it. Brendyn led Tyranus to follow Arthur and the rest to the point where they would leave the woad's company to head for home. Oddly enough, he began to relax, allowing himself to look out over the snow covered trees where the setting sun hit. Somewhere a nightbird sang a song that sounded sad and low. The only other sound was the chilled wind, and the plodding of the hooves of the horses as the snow crunched beneath their steps. He moved his horse over to Bors, but was not sure that this was the time for talking. Brendyn felt himself honored to even be in the company of these men, and it was an honor as well to be a part of Arthur's mission. Though things had been tense, he felt that he had learned a lot from this mission. Nearby, he saw Quintus and Titrus, and he wondered how they thought of his conduct. More than that, he longed to know what Arthur thought though he had probably been too busy to notice. Now, Brendyn yawned, he had not slept since the night before last when he had night watch along the wall, then had been summoned to join this mission. All he longed for now was food, ale, and then a long much needed rest... Adian He was almost done with the fixing of the storage bin. Adian set his tools down on the cart and looked up at the setting sun that was partially shining through the gray clouds. Somewhere in the heavens was his beloved Thorn and her child. As much as he had tried, he could not get over the grieving in his heart. Not that he wanted to right away, but grieving caused a sort of hurting and sadness... one that kept him somber and edgy. The light of the setting sun seemed to remind him that he had promised to visit her grave, or at least to find a spot nice enough to set up a stone or marking as a reminder... Leading the horse by the lead, Adian brought it back to the woodworkers shed, and left the manhandle it. He left and went to his quarters and retrieved Thorn's sword and the mount he had made it. As he left, Adian looked over the mount for the sword knowing that the way he made it would prevent others from taking the weapon from the spot. The young carpenter left the fort and headed for a shade of four trees, and placed the sword point in the ground in the middle of the circle of the oaks, then he fit the mount over the weapon and secured it to the ground. Tonight, he'd keep a silent vigil and give Thorn and his memories of her all of the attention they deserved... |
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| golden_trillium | Jun 5 2010, 12:45 AM Post #14 |
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Author: Eledhwen Date: Mon Jan 05, 2009 1:31 am Bors Bors would talk to anyone, at anytime, if he felt like talking. If he didn't, you'd be hard pushed to get a grunt out of him, just ask Vanora. He glanced down at the young man who led his horse in beside his own, and grunted now. "You shoulda stabbed 'er while you 'ad the chance," he grumbled gruffly, then grinned sideways at the boy to try to get a smile out of him. This one was far too quiet and good for his own... good. If only Dag were up on his feet, the pair of them could take Brendyn in hand and show him what being one of Arthur's men was all about. But Dag wasn't up on his feet... yet, so it was down to Bors to do his civil duty and show the lad what's what. He looked towards Titrus thoughtfully as the Roman rode slightly to one side of him, then sniffed, looking straight ahead once more as he spoke. "'Ere Bren," he said, "you should join me 'n' Titrus for a drink when we get back. It'll do yer good. Put 'air on yer chest." |
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| golden_trillium | Jun 5 2010, 12:46 AM Post #15 |
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Author: Darya Date: Mon Jan 05, 2009 12:14 pm Neeve The raven-haired woman watched Neeria’s reaction to towel and sponge with a furrowed brow. It was apparent that the Woad had never seen such a thing as a sponge before. The other woman examined the small item as if it might be food. Neeve shook her head slightly and just hoped that Neeria would not attempt to take a bite from it in the end… That would only make her end up in the infirmary. And even the Woad getting all naked again without any hesitation merely caused a wry smirk on the healer’s full lips. However, this shameless nudity seemed to come very unexpected for Derfel, who had just entered the scene…much to Neeve’s delight. Crystal-blue eyes shifted from the Saxon to the naked Woad and back. Neeria stared openly at the knight…while he did everything to NOT look at the other woman. Well, the prisoner did neither scream not pass or freak out… A good sign, was it not? It seemed Neeria had completely forgotten about her ability to speak. Neeve pursed her lips and let a strange moment of silence stretch between the three of them before she introduced the Woad to the Saxon and asked Derfel whether or not Lancelot had told him about who their prisoner was and why she was a prisoner at all…
Neeve had to admit that Derfel’s obvious discomfort and concern about what she might or might not do was almost amusing. And yet it worked to his benefit and reputation as gentleman. The healer had no doubt that some of the other knights would have just planted their arse onto one of the benches and would have had a close eye on Neeria taking her bath. And a good part of Neeve screamed to just shrug her shoulders and tell the Saxon that the Woad was all his now… …but she did not. Somehow, she could not. And even though the Briton really needed a break from Neeria’s company to clear her thoughts again, she was not willing to make Derfel’s life just as miserable. And surely the Woad would not need much time for her bath. The healer sighed and moved closer to the knight, placing a hand onto his shoulder. “To be honest, it was not my intention…but since I do not want to risk your breathing to stop or your blush to get any worse, I will see to it, yes. Just do me a favour…and wait just on the other side of the curtain. Do we have a deal, Sir Knight?”, Neeve teased in a low voice and let her blue gaze meet Derfel’s… Then she glanced at Neeria and gestured towards the pool. “Well? What are you waiting for? But before you go in there…please tell me you can swim!?”, she asked the Woad with an arched eyebrow… |
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