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| January 2009 | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jun 3 2010, 01:14 PM (1,513 Views) | |
| golden_trillium | Jun 6 2010, 04:17 PM Post #46 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Fri Jan 09, 2009 9:14 pm Brendyn
Brendyn thought the sound of a drink and food sounded great, but perhaps Titrus had not known that Bors had asked him to go as well. Tyranus pawed at the ground with a black hoof, and bobbed his head up and down, his mane flowing about. Brendyn reached down and stroked the animal's neck to let him know that he had done well, and that a treat would be in store for him once in the stall. Once Arthur dismounted, Brendyn followed suit. It was something he had been taught: Commander dismounts first, then the rest of the men... Antonius would say. He gave Tyranus's reins to a stable boy who waited nearby, and gave him instructions for a bit more oats for the arab mix. The boy nodded gladly, and Brendyn gave him a smile as the horse was led away. Tyrnaus nudged the boy already looking for a treat. The mooch Brendyn thought with a smile. His attention turned back to Arthur as those on the mission gathered about him...
Brendyn's eyes roved to each that stood in the group. At first, he had not been quite sure what kinds of men he was to work with, now he knew them as men of courage and loyalty, and it made him proud that Antonius had had him transfered to this fort under such a Commander as Arthur Castus. The young soldier bowed his head as Arthur said "May God Keep you." As Arthur left with the Optio whom he had not had the pleasure to meet, he sort of stood back from the rest of the group as his stomach complained. He turned and watched the stable boy who was pampering the heck out of Tyranus who loved every moment of it, then turned to the others, "Well, I don't know about all of you, but I am starved." He took off his helmet and held it at his side waiting for the others. Food, drink, and sleep. That was all he desired for with the night came dreams of his sweet Veronica... |
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| golden_trillium | Jun 6 2010, 04:18 PM Post #47 |
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Author: Pinkie Date: Sat Jan 10, 2009 12:35 pm Mari and Saoirse
They were all very nice people. But Mari still felt rather odd sitting there amongst them. She wasn't family and she was conscious of that fact. Dagonet had lost a son, Linnette had lost a husband, Saoirse had not lost anyone but she was Dagonet's partner and so would feel that loss through him - but what had Mari lost? She had not even known Gedeon and yet she sat there in front of the man's father and sought to create a likeness of him. To think on it like that was quite daunting and Mari's hand accidentally smudged the pencil line she had just drawn. "Oops.." she whispered, biting the edge of her lip. Dagonet's soft words made her lift her eyes and she looked at him, a faint smile beginning on her lips. He was not handsome by strict definition - but there was a gentleness about him when he spoke like that. His voice was comforting, consoling - it was not what she would expect from a man his size. There was a ferocity there too. Perhaps it was the scar on his head - the one that stretched from his shaven head down to the centre of his cheek where it disappeared into his unshaven jaw.
Mari glanced over her shoulder when Linnette shouted 'here'. She blinked owlishly as the woman grabbed the book and opened it up. Her face brightened considerably and she smiled warmly at the hazel-eyed woman. She turned back to Dagonet, beaming brightly at him as she set back to drawing with a renewed enthusiasm. She turned a page and started anew, narrowing her eyes now and then. She was listening to the story and gave a small titter of laughter even though she had just heard these pieces not long ago in the tavern. Getting comfortable, she pulled her knees up to her chest and placed her feet on the chair. She placed the pages on her thighs and looked closely at what she was drawing - focussing her dark eyes on Dagonet more often than the page so that, when Linnette finished the first page she had drawn quite a decent likeness of the old Sarmatian Knight. Saoirse watched it all from a distance. She kept a close eye on Dagonet, wishing he had not agreed to this at all. Not that she didn't want Linnette to have this - but because the red head wanted time with her lover and that was proving more and more difficult. When Linnette began to read Saoirse was greatful. It did go a bit of the way to easing the awkwardness in the room. The Irishwoman wandered about the room, putting bits and pieces in their rightful places. She took out her three spears from their place in the corner and sat herself up on the edge of teh bedside table, one booted foot stretched out to the windowsill. She had a whittling knife and started to slowly, painstakingly and lovingly carve along the shaft, listening to the story and Mari's soft laughter and quiet scribblings. When Linnette came to the end of the first page Saoirse glanced over at Mari who was chewing the inside of her cheek thoughtfully. Feeling Saoirse's eyes on her, the young woman looked up and smiled nervously. "I think I have what I need.." she said shyly, looking over her shoulder at Linnette. |
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| golden_trillium | Jun 6 2010, 04:21 PM Post #48 |
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Author: Darya Date: Sat Jan 10, 2009 1:55 pm Neeve
Neeve returned Neeria’s icy stare with her own and lifted her chin slightly. “Mind your tongue, Woad…”, she then said firmly and narrowed her eyes a little, “…do not forget your place here…” The healer began to feel that being in a prisoner’s company all day had tired her more than she had thought. And with that, her patience with Neeria was almost completely gone. Neeve needed a break…desperately. So maybe she could sneak away once they had reached the tavern…again. “The tavern it is then…”, the Briton added with a nod… …and just when she prepared herself to exit the bath-house and face the cold outside again, Neeria suddenly seemed to be fascinated by Derfel’s clothes and his sword. Neeve frowned but listened to the brief exchange between the two…at first. However, something then seemed to disturb the Woad as she freaked out all for sudden…
What the hell? The raven-haired woman briefly glanced at heavens before putting her hands on her hips. Neeve stiffly licked her lips and took a deep breath. Just a bit more patience… “Derfel is an honourable man and – like he said – one of Arthur Castus' knights. And trust me, Neeria, you can be more than glad that he is the one assigned to guard you…since some of the others would certainly be less patient with you. Especially if they knew why you are here...”, the healer warned in an uncomfortably chilly voice that surely somewhat gave away that she was in no mood for discussions, “…he does not mean any harm to you…unless you give him reason to.” With that, Neeve’s blue gaze shifted towards the Saxon and a corner of her mouth twitched slightly. She thought Derfel to be a rather calm nature…but she would totally understand it should he get angry with their prisoner. And perhaps the Saxon now could also begin to understand why she was somewhat exhausted by now. “Anyway…the tavern it is now. Maybe dinner will help to calm us all down again…”, the healer added with a sigh and turned on her heels to do as Derfel had gestured her to…to lead the small group out of this building…when… Darya The two women walked through wind, snow and darkness. But other than Eyla, Darya was wearing warm yet almost elegant tight boots that kept her feet dry and warm. The female Sarmatian did notice that the whore was not exactly dressed for being outside…another thing that probably came with her job. Briefly she considered lending the other woman her cloak…but then the bath-house already came into sight and Darya wondered if Eyla would really answer her question.
There it was again…this interesting singsong in the whore’s voice that made at least a few hairs at the back of Darya’s – and certainly not only hers – neck stand on end. And even though Eyla’s reply once again sounded as if she was merely making fun of Darya and even herself, the Sarmatian extracted some information from them. She arched an eyebrow at the other woman and smirked slightly to herself. It was almost funny to hear the whore talk about having been born in heaven and kissed by angel…since Arthur usually called her just that. Clearly, the dark-haired remembered when the Roman had tried to explain to her what angels were…and why that made him think of her as one. But this was nothing to share with Eyla. This was a precious and private memory which Darya savored quite often… Anyway, she should not delve into memories now. She wanted a bath…and she wanted to learn how to take life easier. At least whenever possible. And how to be more…feminine. “It would have just been…nice…”, Darya finally replied in a low voice and shook her now damp hair back, “…especially since your words make me wonder if being a whore already is everything you want from the life…” A wry smile tugged at the Sarmatian’s full lips but she did not really expect a serious answer from Eyla…at least not now. Then she gestured for the whore to move on to walk over to the ladies’ area… “Shall we?” However, after a few more steps, Darya heard voices and lifted her dark gaze to notice three figures standing by the thick curtain that divided the men’s area from the ladies part. She recognized Derfel…and Neeve with her short black hair. But there was another woman with them that she could not recall to have seen before…and was it just her or did that woman look a lot like a Woad? A frown creased the female Sarmatian’s brow as she and Eyla approached the small group which they would have to pass to reach the pool. Briefly, she glanced at Eyla by her side…and then greeted the two persons she knew. “Derfel…”, she nodded, “…Neeve…” Yet her eyes silently asked them who the third person of their group was…and whether or not the three were leaving or had only just arrived. To be honest, Darya would be overly grateful to not have to take a bath in a crowded room; it was the loner in her that made her feel that way… |
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| golden_trillium | Jun 6 2010, 04:22 PM Post #49 |
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Author: Elessars Girl Date: Sat Jan 10, 2009 3:17 pm Arthur The moody evening sky continued to let loose a steady stream of heavy white flakes from above. The fortress would easily be covered in blankets of linen white snow by morning. Thank God that Arthur and his men had avoided having to make camp out in the frozen woodlands by reaching the Keep at Camboglanna in time to sleep in their own beds tonight. God was merciful on some points at least.
“Perhaps,” Arthur answered with a small nod in agreement with Amadeus’ assessment as the two men walked onwards towards the tall structure of stone that housed the private quarters of the officers. No one interrupted the two officers and for that blessing, Arthur was indeed thankful for once. The Commander wanted nothing more than to reach his chambers and pray to God for the safe return of his men before sleep would take his tired and weary mind tonight. But there was no true peace in finding his own bed this night. Merlin was unpredictable – having proved that yet again tonight with his refusal for peace between he and Arthur. And if Guinevere had been truthful in her quiet whispered words earlier, the Woad leader’s decision had been based on superstition and not anything sensible or tangible. Thus Arthur could only surmise that another attack would come at any time.
“Certainly that is what appeared to be. However, if I am to understand Merlin’s daughter…what drove Merlin to attack was not strategy, retaliation or logic,” Arthur explained with a brief glance over at Amadeus who was attempting to stifle a yawn at that very moment. The Commander responded in kind and suddenly realized that his green eyes were burning in their exhaustion as well. The two men reached the steps to the building and quickly ascended them to escape the steady falling snow and chilly biting evening air. “It seems that Merlin chose to make his assault on us based solely on the council of the gods,” Arthur further explained as he made use of both his hands and brushed the worst of the snow from his vambraces and shoulders before he stepped completely through the threshold of the building. “Alea iacta est,”* Arthur added with a stern expression on his chiseled face and the mark of deep concern shimmering in his emerald eyes. “Merlin has made his position clear and thus we shall have no rest despite the winter,” Worry certainly touched Arthur. He had a weakened fortress to defend, tired men badly in need of rest, and insufficient stores to feed its inhabitants through the remainder of a harsh British winter. …and that was only part of the apprehension that the Roman faced. Arthur had a child to consider now - his child. Arthur lifted his arm and rested the palm of his hand on Amadeus’ shoulder as they walked alongside one another down the empty corridor. The golden flicker of torchlight showed the way and the thick oversized wooden door protecting Arthur’s private chambers was only a few paces more. “You are a fine officer, Amadeus. And I shall certainly be dependent upon your skills as we must prepare for treachery from the Woads – possibly as soon as the rising of tomorrow’s sun,” Arthur gave a small reassuring squeeze at the other man’s shoulder and then reinforced the motion with a small smile. The Commander was beginning to like this new Optio. The man had remained composed and in control under the days’ conflicts and had thus far communicated with learned diplomacy and respect. Perhaps Arthur would give Amadeus a little more responsibility here at Badon. *=The die has been cast. |
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| golden_trillium | Jun 6 2010, 04:24 PM Post #50 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Sat Jan 10, 2009 5:44 pm Quintus
“Aye, that’d be welcome,” Quintus called back as he discreetly shook one leg, still working the saddle stiffness out of the muscles. In the back of his mind he still felt a bit miffed about the situation with himself, Karl, and Titrus before they had left that morning, but really…a drink was a drink, and Quintus was glad enough just to be back safe that he was disposed to be forgiving. He blinked snowflakes out of his eyes- they were falling faster now, and bigger, too- as Arthur, having dismounted, addressed the group. His expression was its usual when speaking to many, kind, yet clearly expecting obedience, and gave no hint that the late negotiations had been totally unsuccessful. Still, Quintus did note that Arthur did not exactly comment on the day’s activities, either.
“You said it, lad,” Quintus put in as Commander and Optio moved away, talking quietly, and as the rest of the group began to disperse. That appeared to be that- most of a day mostly wasted, no agreement of any kind with the Woads. And Quintus still had extra duties to look forward to in the coming days, because of that slip of a Woad girl the day before. A drink and some food and relaxation were called for indeed, and now the Centurion turned his steps toward the tavern along with Brendyn, Titrus, and Bors. The snow fell thickly ahead of them and around them, beginning its job of smothering the fort in a thick, white blanket- but it was not so heavy yet that Quintus could not recognize the female figure moving ahead of them into the tavern. She was dressed in pale colors, a long bluish cloak that made her look almost like part of the snow itself, and her hair glinted blonde in the torchlight. It was the same woman he had spotted watching the group as they had left- and even in the dark and from behind, she was every bit as gorgeous as she had been then. The Centurion’s eyebrows rose with appreciation as he pictured what she must look like at…well, at closer range. “Any of you know her?” he asked the other three, keeping his voice light and curious. What he wondered, of course, was if she had been watching the group depart and return for a purpose- if she was the sweetheart of one of the men. It seemed unlikely, considering that she was now just walking away- but hey, Quintus had to determine whether he was going to get into any trouble for approaching her, right? Tristan The scout, on the other hand, did not head toward the tavern. Food sounded good, as did drink, but they were not immediate priorities for him, and companionship certainly was not either. He spared Bors a vague nod, which might have indicated he’d be back later, and then walked Tirgatao into the stables himself. He preferred, whenever possible, to care for his mount himself, and now once again he ignored the stablehands’ offers to take the stallion from him and walked him to his stall, where he removed the saddle and gear and began to brush the animal down. A stable boy brought water and food, which Tristan accepted with a grunt that, believe it or not, was an indicator of gratitude, gruff though it was. Tristan didn’t linger, though- once Tirgatao had been set up with his own nourishment and given a quick brush, Tristan was content to leave the horse to his meal and go on to his next priority- fittingly, another animal. The hawk, of course. The scout had missed her presence on the mission; it always felt different when he was not able to take her along, even though she spent large chunks of her time off soaring the skies high above, her presence hardly noted by anyone. Now, he went in search of her, and since Darya had not been in evidence in the courtyard, he decided to start with the woman’s quarters. That was as good a place to start as any, especially since it allowed him to easily stop at his own room and leave off his own gear from the mission. This he did- he didn’t bother to unpack the saddlebags, or to recheck anything, since nothing had been used on the abortive mission, anyway- and then went to Darya’s room, padding softly along the torchlit corridor of the sleeping quarters. No one answered his knock on the door. He made another, a touch louder, but there was still no response. An ear pressed to the door revealed no noise associated with humans, but he did catch a sound that seemed familiar- like a rustle of feathers, very faint even to his keen hearing, so faint that he could not even be sure he had heard it. Even so, Tristan decided to open the door. He was confident that Darya was not within, but if the hawk was, a simple door wasn’t going to keep him away. He was careful about it, though. He pushed the door open slowly, and peeked around it with one hand instinctively near his dagger hilt- but of course, there was no one inside. The fire was out, all was dark except where the corridor torches illuminated a strip down the center of the room- but the hawk was there, perched on the window sill across from the doorway, her figure still. Tristan felt an alarming, though brief, stab of panic. She wasn’t moving…did that mean…annoyed at his own reaction, the scout rolled his eyes and told himself to bloody well go look instead of jumping to conclusions. And a few steps across the room later, his initial worry proved to be unfounded. The hawk was merely asleep, her breathing regular and her head tucked under her good wing, while the splint on the broken wing was just as it had been before. All right. She was all right, and Tristan allowed himself a sigh, and even a soft stroke of her back feathers with one very light finger. He realized now that if she had been dead, she would not have been sitting there upright, and mentally derided his initial reaction for mere foolishness. Meanwhile, the hawk ruffled her feathers lightly again in response to his touch, but did not open her eyes. She needed her rest, and it was probably better to just let her get it here for the time being. And perhaps Darya was in the tavern, which was Tristan’s next planned destination. It was evening meal time for everyone, and, as his stomach reminded him with a growl as he shut Darya’s door very softly behind him, he was hungry. |
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| golden_trillium | Jun 6 2010, 04:26 PM Post #51 |
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Author: Pinkie Date: Sat Jan 10, 2009 7:55 pm Catherine Catherine walked ahead of those going to the tavern - not by design however. Though it certainly was a treat for them to see her from such an angel. She was walking without rush or urgency, quite happy to be out in the cold despite how it bit at her pale, smooth skin. Once she glanced over her shoulder and gave a coy smile to those men behind her. She gave a small laugh and quickened her pace. She reached the tavern and opened the door with a greatful sigh for the heat in the place. It was time for evening meal so the place was packed. The blonde whore looked around with hazy green eyes for an empty table around the walls but there were only seats in the centre of the room and none near teh fire. The woman pouted at that, considered joining a group of men near the fire then dismissed the idea, favouring a high seat up by the counter. One of the serving wenches gave her a welcoming smile and Catherine responded in kind. Slender hands reached up and pulled back the hood of her cloak. Her blonde hair was still speckled with wet around the ends and Catherine idly flicked them away as she sat herself down. The cloak she left tied about her pretty neck but she pulled the sides apart to reveal the midnight blue dress that she wore. There was white thread decorating the width of the material just beneath her bosom and down to her slender waist, accentuating her curves and figure. Of course it would have looked better if the thread had been silver and if the blue had not run a little and turned the thread the palest of blues, but the effect was the same. Catherine ordered a bowl of soup for herself, turning to rest her back against the counter and look around the goings-on in the tavern. Amadeus
So it had not been sweet nothings that the two had been whispering in each other's ears then, Amadeus thought caustically. Indeed the news Arthur bore to him now was grave. They were following a crazed man these woads, surely they knew this. He did the bidding of 'gods' that did not exist - 'gods' that were probably no more than voices in his mind. Had he been born in Rome he would have been treated by a phsyician and the bad blood that caused these ill humours would have been expunged from his body. The young Optio followed Arthur's words more than his own footsteps. He was not truly focussing on where they walked but was quite surprised when Arthur placed his hand on his shoulder. Amadeus tensed. His guilty conscience bid him tense. He looked sideways at the Commander and wondered how Arthur would react if he knew that he plotted against him. Would he be accepting of it as he seemed to be so accepting of all else that befell him? Would he fight it? Would he kill it with kindness?
Truthfully Amadeus was quite taken aback by the compliment paid to him. He took it as confirmation then, that Arthur had more faith in him rather than his impetuous Captain who had botched the last peace mission. Peace had not been possible no matter who had attended to Merlin - that Amadeus' mission had been so abysmal would surely be obvious now to Arthur having observed his Optio on the mission with himself. The sharp-nosed Roman looked over at Arthur with his grey eyes quite wide, and more than a little blood-shot from tiredness. He scrutinised the other man's face quickly for any hints or signs of mockery but found none. Arthur truly did believe him a good officer. People had often admired his ambitions and skills in the past - but never had his superior told him so forthrightly that he was a fine officer. It did much to increase Amadeus' confidence - and for a moment he thought, he pondered rising to Command the honest way here at Badon but ... but ... No. No. Arthur was not right for Badon Hill. He was not suited to these times of war when hard words were needed, not impotent 'peace missions' and truce talks. The woads had to be crushed not treated with, and the Sarmatians needed to be brought to heel and soon. Arthur would never achieve those things - not in a dozen lifetimes. He just did not have what it would take. He was not Roman enough. "I will be ready, Commander. You may count on that." Amadeus said and truly meant it. Because come the rising of the sun his letter would be en-route to Rome and Amadeus would be ready to assume control of Badon by whatever means once Rome sanctioned his take-over. Arthur, for all his kindess and humble greatness would be pulled from his pedestal and bared for the weakling that he was. For the might of Rome. They had reached Arthur's rooms by now and Amadeus turned to face Arthur, his sharp features illuminated by the flickering torchlight, his grey eyes appearing black in the dimness. |
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| golden_trillium | Jun 6 2010, 04:27 PM Post #52 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Sat Jan 10, 2009 8:52 pm Ione Feeling better after the change of clothes, and the help of her friend, Ione thanked the wench for the skirt, tunic and the cloak. Stepping out of the kitchen into the eating area, Ione went to a far table and decided it best to stay away from the man who had insulted her. The wench had followed her out of the kitchen with a hot mug of mint tea, and told Ione to drink it. "Thank you so much again for your help," the weaver said softly, still embarrassed at what she had done. She slipped a few coins on the table, then Ione left her gaze move to look out the window at the large flakes of falling snow. So silent. She took a sip of the tea and blocked out the irrate man and everyone else. There was only one person she hoped had returned okay, and that she'd see him again.... Brendyn He remained silent as they walked to the tavern. Brendyn was glad to be back to the fort, and now was going to share a drink with his new found friends, before going to rest for the night. Large flakes of snow fell about them as they walked, and it always amazed him at how lovely and calm things looked after a good snowfall. The whole mission had seemed like one huge dream, or nightmare. It was true that Merlin had not agreed to peace, but all of the soldiers and sarmatians accompanying Arthur had come home alive. Peace would have been great, instead of unnecessary bloodshed and hatred. Hatred caused boundries. As they approached the tavern, a lovely woman passed in their sight, and Brendyn, for a moment, thought she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen... but no one compared to Veronica. As they came closer to the tavern, Brendyn thought he smelled food and heard lively talk. How wonderful it sounded! Brendyn thought back to his friends at Aesica, and how they'd laugh and drink and eat after a long day. How all of the burdens of the day vanished... sometimes. Approaching the door, he opened it and stepped side for his friends to enter... |
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| golden_trillium | Jun 6 2010, 04:29 PM Post #53 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Sat Jan 10, 2009 10:22 pm Linnesse
Linnesse only nodded coolly to that, walking forward with towards the door along with Lancelot, though hanging a few steps behind. She leaned against one side of the workroom doorway, crossing her arms in front of her as the First Knight headed determinedly for the exit- but then he paused and turned around, and when he met her eyes again, there was a new softness there that Linnesse had never seen before. It puzzled her, and she tilted her head to the side and half-straightened up as he spoke again…
“Er…” Linnesse hesitated. An affirmative answer wasn’t quite right- she couldn’t really picture herself ever needing Lancelot for anything, but it didn’t seem right to just rudely put him off, either. Finally, after a moment with words stuck in her throat, she nodded stiffly. “I appreciate it,” she finally concluded, her eyes following him as he turned once again and left the infirmary altogether. “Hmm,” she made a soft, thoughtful noise in her throat, shaking her head. What an…odd encounter- she couldn’t figure the man out at all. Dangerous? Womanizer? Courteous and caring? She had all three of those aspects of him in a very short time, and it seemed a curious thing to her…but also, perhaps, something that was better not dwelled on. Derfel had warned her against him, and he would not have done that without reason. If “dangerous” was even one of Lancelot’s personalities, nevertheless it was there, and Linnesse certainly didn’t want to risk anything like the encounter with Darya happening again. That had been utterly terrifying…Linnesse squeezed her eyes shut momentarily, the memory threatening to drag her in- and then forced them open again, raising her head determinedly. She was not going to think of the bad experiences of the past now. No, she was going to go finish serving the meal to the patients, and then she was going to get her cloak and go find her own supper. She had things to do, she was hungry, and she was not going to lose herself in fear of the past. It was past- Darya, Rufus, all of it. Linnesse turned in a businesslike fashion back towards the patient beds and the rest of the serving, determined to put dark thoughts behind her. |
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| golden_trillium | Jun 6 2010, 04:30 PM Post #54 |
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Author: TwistOfShadows Date: Sun Jan 11, 2009 3:55 am Eyla Oh, but Eyla was in Heaven. As she arched her back beneath the rafters in the bathouse, her dark hair spilled down her spine. Her bodice was tightly pressed into the delicious curve of her bosoms, and she pouted her lips wantonly. She appeared in the midst of pleasure, and breathed a husky laugh from her pouted mouth. The whore did not care for the past. It was boring, dull, and there was nothing remotely interesting about it. What did Darya expect? A beautiful and emotional story about a loving family, who cherished her and taught her good manners? Indeed, she was very wrong! Eyla had been born on an expensive Roman villa, and had escaped a life of servitude to pursue the delights of the flesh. Eyla was genuinely happy, and did not seek happiness within friendship. She survived alone, and it suited the woman perfectly. She did not want a demanding lover, who expected loyalty and commitment. No, she wanted fun, freedom and enough pleasure to leave her skin thrumming with its aftermath. Posing prettily for Darya, her long skirts spilled out around her tanned ankles, and she smiled. The deceit glittered in her dark eyes, and it was delicious. Eyla did not care for truth. Not one bit. The whore allowed her gaze to sweep down the dark Sarmatian’s slim form, and she awaited a reaction. Would she be chastised? Oh, she hoped so!
Beautiful! Darya had finally realised what Eyla wanted from life, and the whore laughed sweetly in response. Eyla wanted to be a whore, because she enjoyed the rhythmic thump of a man between her legs, there was nothing more wonderful. Pleasure made a woman feel alive, and it made life easier, more delicious. Did Darya seek a life of servitude? Clearly, and it was a depressing notion. Eyla wanted to grab the other woman, and place a honeyed kiss upon her mouth. The whore did not seek anything other than being a whore, and it had taken Darya long enough to realise this! Good Lord, but did the other woman live in a dream? This life was not about happy endings, nor falling in love...it was about learning to survive, and enjoying the hand life dealt you...
Eyla followed her companion, and a feline smile marked her full and pink mouth. The bath house was a pretty place, and the whore looked down into the clear water. Gentle ripples caressed the surface, and cast dancing shadows along the marbled walls. The green water touched against Eyla’s dark gaze, and reflected a glittered and lighter lustre. Oh, but she liked it here. It was pleasant, and the perfect place to expose oneself. She had lifted her skirts here often, and displayed her feminine delights to the world. As they walked, Eyla lifted a hand into her hair, and teased the curly tendrils over her shoulders. Her bangles clattered loudly down her tanned arms, and she breathed a gentle laugh of satisfaction. She was not receiving pleasure, but she was enjoying herself. To a fashion. They approached a group of people beside the pool side, and Eyla peered up at them prettily. She recognised Neeve, the stern and striking healer, and Derfel...the golden haired Adonis who inspired the whore’s interest. Eyla came to stand to stand at Darya’s side, and placed a hand upon Derfel’s arm. She squeezed it appreciatively, and then released it...when she saw the feral woman who accompanied them. “Good Lord! Who is this?” She laughed, and lifted her brows at the other woman. Her thick eyelashes opened wide in amusement, and she tutted her tongue. Pointing an accusing finger at the woman in question, Eyla spoke again, most sweetly. “What’s your name, sweetheart? Are you being held a captive?” The whore glanced up at Derfel, and winked one eye. She did not know the woman, nor her Woad blood. She simply joked, teased, and did so most innocently. “And if so, is there room for one more?” Eyla could not help herself. She pulled her shoulders back, and smiled naughtily at the small party. Her previous intentions of aiding Darya seemed to fade in her mind, and now were replaced with the potential for...delights... |
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| golden_trillium | Jun 6 2010, 04:31 PM Post #55 |
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Author: Eledhwen Date: Sun Jan 11, 2009 6:10 am Bors
Bors didn't reply to the young man's question, he merely huffed and grinned, urging his horse into a canter as the snow began to fall. The boy needed a proper drink, not poxy meade - that was for women! Not to worry, Bors and his new buddy Titrus would soon sort that out. As they neared the fort the cavalcade slowed to a walk, and Bors rested his hands one on top of the other on his pommel as he leaned forward to stretch the muscles of his back. He was getting too old for all this.
The burly knight glance round as the Roman moved up alongside, and smirked. "We was jus' talkin' about that very fing," he sniffed. "Bren 'ere wants to learn 'ow to drink like a man." As he spoke, they at last entered the protective walls, and Bors was happy to slide down out of the saddle, rubbing his backside as he stretched and yawned hugely.
"Come on then," Bors intoned loudly. "First round's on you Tits me ol' mate." Throwing his reins at a stable boy, he began to walk towards the tavern, looking forward to the warmth of the fire, the taste of the ale, and the sight of his Vanora's comely curves as she served them. |
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| golden_trillium | Jun 6 2010, 04:32 PM Post #56 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Sun Jan 11, 2009 10:10 am Vanora She narrowed her eyes at the drunk after the small mess had been cleaned up at the table. It looked like nothing had happened, and this satisfied her. She threw the dirty towels into the water and lifted it to carry it into the back room so that she could dump it outside. How Karl had reacted had really gotten her angry... how he had acted toward Linnette and Mari, not to mention Adian who could have killed him as angry as he was. Opening the back door of the tavern, Vanora threw the dirty water out into the snow, and closed the door against the snow and cold. She knew the men were in the fort now, and also figured they all had to be chilled to the bone, wet from the snow and very tired. She stopped at the huge kettle that contained the hearty stew, and saw that there'd be enough. Turning to one of the cooks, a giant of a man, Vanora ordered that a keg of ale be brought up from the cellar. Bors liked his drink after a mission or a battle, and would be bringing in his friends no doubt.... She smiled as she moved back up front to the counter. The door had opened to reveal the new fellow she had met briefly, and some of the others. Off in a corner, Ione sat by herself in a fresh new set of clothes probably borrowed from the wench who had helped her clean up. The weaver's head was bowed as if looking for answers to her worries in her mug of tea. Moving her eyes about the room, she also saw Catherine, who was being waited on by another wench. Plus there were a few other customers as well. Not as busy a dinner as Vanora had hoped for... Her biggest worry had not left the tavern: Karl. With the soldiers and the knights entering, she hoped the drunk would just behave himself... |
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| golden_trillium | Jun 6 2010, 04:33 PM Post #57 |
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Author: Elessars Girl Date: Mon Jan 12, 2009 9:22 am Arthur The two men had come to a halt in front of the darkly stained wooden door that marked the entrance to Arthur’s private quarters. The Commander’s eyes crinkled slightly in the corners as he offered an amicable smile over at Amadeus. He then slid his hand from the Optio’s shoulder and let both arms relax at his sides. Arthur was exhausted. And from the looks of Scipio’s slightly wide and strained eyes, the other Roman shared in a part of that exhaustion as well. It had been a long and wearisome few days since the Commander had returned from the mission at Segedunum. And failure had ruled the day – much to Arthur’s shame.
“I have no doubt,” Arthur answered while allowing his hand to reach for the latch on the door. “However, I regret that I had sent you on a fool’s errand yesterday. I had thought Merlin a man that could be reasoned with…I miss-judged him. And as God is my witness, I shall not make that mistake again.” Rare was the occasion that Arthur spoke of his failures to anyone other than God Himself. But his misjudgment of the enemy had put this man before him at risk when the Commander had sent Scipio in his stead – along with others including Malcus and Tristan. Thus Arthur felt he owed it to Amadeus – owed the man honesty and disclosure….despite Lancelot’s foreboding words of caution about this new Optio. “Let us re-convene in my office at dawn tomorrow and break our fast together, hm? I must write a full report and we will assess all matters of our defenses and what must be done to complete the repairs,” Arthur said again with genuine kindness and a clear willingness to accept this man before him as his colleague. Scipio had ridden well today, carried himself well in the face of serious adversity and gained respect in Arthur’s eyes. The Commander’s hand pressed down on the latch and the heavy wooden door creaked open. “Until tomorrow…Amadeus,” Arthur said as he began to turn towards the threshold of his chambers. The air that met him through the open door was warm and familiar and welcoming….and the Commander wanted nothing more than to discover solace inside. He had not completely turned from Amadeus yet though to know who might be awaiting his return – Darya or Lancelot? |
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| golden_trillium | Jun 6 2010, 04:35 PM Post #58 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Mon Jan 12, 2009 8:23 pm Linnesse Now that the dinner was doled out to the infirmary patients, Linnesse could think about some food for herself. She had hung around a little longer than usual, to see if Derfel was going to come to pick her up, as he often did, but after a short stretch she figured he was still busy with this prisoner guarding business and decided to go over to the tavern herself to eat and talk to Linnette. The nature of Derfel's assignment still seemed odd to her, as she reflected as she put on her cloak and prepared to go out in the cold and gently falling snow- normally knights didn't do any guard duty in the dungeons at all, and was that not where prisoners were kept? Linnesse truly didn't understand it, but she just hoped that the duty was not too onerous for him, and did not keep him out all night or anything. For now, though...well, it hadn't been that long. She'd just nip over to the tavern and await him there, and then maybe walk back home with Linnette when she was off work. The streets of the fort were hushed and rather brighter than one would have expected at night, due to the torchlights reflecting back off the thick clouds. Snow fell in fat, silent flakes, muffling everything, and even the sounds of passing patrols seemed considerably quieter than usual. The light from the tavern windows made the snow sparkle on the courtyard flagstones, and Linnesse was struck by the beauty of it, even as she wanted to get in out of the cold. It was like silver and diamonds, sprinkled all over the earth- even in this rude stone place of soldiers. Just inside the tavern's door, Linnessse tapped excess snow off her shoes, pushed down her hood, and shook her shoulders, letting as many of the flakes collected there fall to the ground. To get any farther into the room she had to skirt around a small group of men standing there deciding what table to claim- Bors was one of the, but Linnesse didn't know any of the others by name. She gave them as wide a berth as she could in the restricted entrance space, not out of fear, but out of what she regarded as a very sensible caution, and made her way to the bar, where she was a bit surprised to note that Linnette was absent. A quick question to one of the other girls revealed that Linnette had stepped out "with some young lass, a friend of hers", and would be back soon. Not having any idea who the "young lass" was, nor of the purpose of the errand, Linnesse resolved to merely get some food and wait here a while, and to that end ordered stew and bread, and when the wench had brought it, began to look around for a place to sit. There weren't too many people she was familiar with here right now...Vanora was, but she was working, of course, and...Linnesse felt momentarily lost as she stood there, holding her food, indecisive and nervous. She had been here many times before...but virtually never alone. She was almost on the verge of going to ask Vanora if she could perhaps eat in the kitchen or something, when she spotted Ione at a table by herself, a mug before her, her head turned so that she gazed out the nearby window at the falling snow. Perfect! Quite relieved, Linnesse threaded her way over to the table in question. She'd have some familiar company, and she could inquire after Ione's state as well. The healer in her fell to analyzing the situation even as she tentatively set her food down on the table. Ione's color looked good, though her face was understandably sad, but it did worry Linnesse a bit that she wasn't eating. Had she already done so, or was she feeling ill? "Ione...can I sit here? How are you feeling?" Linnesse asked the other woman as she slid onto the chair across from her. |
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| golden_trillium | Jun 6 2010, 04:36 PM Post #59 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Mon Jan 12, 2009 9:09 pm Ione The weaver slowly sipped at the mug of hot mint tea, feeling her stomach settle a bit more... now that she was away from the smell of that vile, foul mouthed man. Ione rarely swore, but right now, she was in no mood to mess with the drunk further and left the incident fall. As kind as she was, she had slipped the wench enough money to pay for the man's spoiled dinner, and her tea. She looked out the window at the softly falling flakes as if trying to find out answers to her "why" questions: Why had Ian been taken from her? Why had Javier suddenly just disappeared from her life? There were too many "whys" and not enough answers...
Ione slowly turned her head and looked sadly at the other woman, but then offered a slight, but warm smile. "I would be glad of some company, Linnesse. Please do have a seat," Ione said in her softly accented voice. She cast a glance over to where the disgruntled man was sitting, and thankfully far from her. The smile vanished as she looked down into her tea. In a sad voice, Ione said, "I am feeling okay. Thank you for asking... I went to visit Ian's grave. Tis in a lovely spot..." Ione brushed a hand over her borrowed tunic as she related to the healer what had just happened between the drunk and herself, "One of the wenches left me borrow her skirt and tunic... Oh Linnesse, I was so embarrassed." Her voice trailed off, still looking down into her tea, then back to her friend, "How is Derfel?" Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the tavern door open and the voices of men... possibly the soldiers and officers who had been on the mission. Would he be with them? Was he safe and sound? Turning her eyes back to Linnesse, the weaver said, "I really do appreciate your help today. You have done so much for me already..." It was good to have Linnesse's company! The things that had happened to her today had left an indullable mark on her soul, and having the healer there made her feel a bit better... |
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| golden_trillium | Jun 6 2010, 04:37 PM Post #60 |
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Author: Elessars Girl Date: Tue Jan 13, 2009 12:50 pm Arthur Arthur slowly closed the door with the push of his hand and the latch clicked into place behind him. And in that moment, his ability to conceal his exhaustion left him at last. Arthur’s shoulders visibly slumped and his whole body ached with weariness and fatigue – gone was the steely mask that the Commander wore so convincingly in public. Arthur was home. And he had been successful in bringing the men home safely, too. Thank God. The fireplace had been well banked by some thoughtful attendant and the flames cast a warm animated glow throughout the chamber easily overpowering the lit candles here and there in the room. A tray containing fruit and cheese and a tall flask of drink had been placed in the center of the table. The netting that draped the canopy of the bed had been tied back invitingly while the Commander’s favorite oil lamp burned brightly on a bedside stand. The room was as its master had left it – neat, practical and adequate…..and empty. No one was present to greet Arthur. No wife, no lover and no family. I deserve no less. The Commander made a disgruntled sound, rubbed thick fingers over his mouth and then drew a hand through his unruly black hair (although traces of grey now appeared here and there). Arthur’s stiff fingers immediately went to work on the clasps of his vambraces while he stepped to his dressing chest that stored his armour when not in use. Once he had removed the smaller items, Arthur then went on to meticulously remove his red cloak, hauberk and mail only grimacing once while twisting the still sore line of stitches on his side in the motion. He had hung Excalibur in her place on the wall allowing his fingers to momentarily linger on the hilt of the great sword. Arthur thanked God that he had had no use of her skills today. But the day had still been a complete failure. Peace had not been achieved. Arthur braced himself with his hands on the tall chest and toed off his black riding boots. He then placed them beside the storage chest and then padded his way over to the wash stand on the far side of the room. He pulled off the thin linen tunic he’d worn beneath his armor and discarded it into a laundry basket beside the wash stand. From what he could see, the bandages over his stitches had held up well enough – only a small amount of crimson colour was evident in the otherwise white cloth. Arthur removed all the bandaging and cleaned the area best that he could with a clean cloth and water from the basin. The wound only mildly protested with a dull ache. Arthur did not bother re-bandaging his side but went on to shave and clean himself up best that was possible with only a bowl of fresh water here in his quarters. A much overdue full bath would have to wait until tomorrow….if Arthur could find the time for such luxuries when there was so much that he must attend to in his duties. And as he finished scrubbing a cloth over his freshly shaven face, Arthur paused to stare at his reflection in the electrum that hung over the wash stand. Weary green eyes nearly overshadowed by thick furrowed brows stared back. He sighed at the reflection and then gripped at the lip of the wash stand with both hands – head bowed….. ….and Arthur prayed; his lips moving in quiet murmurs as he asked for God’s forgiveness…... O God, I need to feel that I have forgiveness from You. So often my good intentions do not become what I want them to be, and so often the good I want to do, I cannot do. It is hard to face up to the wrong that is in my life. When I feel Your forgiveness, I feel clean and good inside and so free to be what You want me to be. Help me feel this goodness, and strengthen me to forgive those who have wronged me. I pray in the name of Christ who shows us the way to Your forgiving presence. Amen. |
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