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| January 2009 | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jun 3 2010, 01:14 PM (1,511 Views) | |
| golden_trillium | Jun 6 2010, 04:38 PM Post #61 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Tue Jan 13, 2009 2:08 pm Linnesse
"Oh, it's no problem at all, dear...no problem at all. And Derfel's fine- he got put on some kind of guard duty this evening." Linnesse dipped the spoon into her stew, making ready to scoop up a bite, but paused first to reach across with her free hand and give Ione's fingers a gentle touch of sympathy. The other woman had been though a great deal today- obviously. Truthfully Linnesse was surprised to see her in the tavern, but Linnette, she recalled, also seemed to prefer to occupy herself with normal things during her grief. Perhaps Ione was feeling the same way, tired of solitude and reflection- but in Ione's case the physical aspect was more worrisome. Linnesse just hoped Ione hadn't overexerted herself since they had parted several hours ago. "I don't understand, though...what were you embarrassed about?" Linnesse cocked her head to one side as she raised the spoon to her mouth. Ione's words had ranged quickly over many subjects, something that Linnesse had realized the weaver tended to do- but the significance of borrowing a dress and being embarrassed escaped Linnesse...unless... "Ione!" Linnesse exclaimed suddenly, her spoon clattering back down into her bowl with a small splash as Linnesse leaned forward in alarm, her eyes searching Ione's face for any sign of...of, well, anything amiss. "You werent...aren't...bleeding, are you?" Linnesse had lowered her voice considerably on that and nodded downwards, knowing that Ione would grasp her meaning. Any bleeding at all was a very bad sign- Linnesse very sincerely hoped it wasn't that! |
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| golden_trillium | Jun 6 2010, 04:39 PM Post #62 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Tue Jan 13, 2009 4:22 pm Ione
Ione looked at the woman across from her, and said softly, "No... it is nothing like that..." She felt the baby kick a bit and placed her hand on her stomach while she talked, "Shortly before you arrived, I was trying to leave, and I passed by that man over there..." Ione pointed in Karl's direction while speaking in a soft tone. She was in no mood to deal with the vile smelling man again. "The smell of sweat and drink that came from him... well it made me sick and I lost it on his table and in his food and drink... with a bit on him..." She looked down into her drink, and fell quiet while the remaining child moved inside her. It felt like a jousting match. '' I am feeling weary and might just turn in for the night, though I do feel a bit hungry now, and could do with something light... " Ione gave a slight laugh. "I am craving oatcakes with honey on them... " She took a sip of tea, then ordered the oatcakes and honey which the wench went to get for her. So much had happened to her today, that it was good to have someone around to talk with. "Linnesse... how are you doing?" |
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| golden_trillium | Jun 6 2010, 04:40 PM Post #63 |
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Author: Lancelot Date: Tue Jan 13, 2009 7:35 pm Lancelot The Sarmatian's brain was whirling, but he put down the bottle of wine and slowly recorked it. He mindlessly set the thing on a side table, and crossing his arms, stared into the glow of the coals that lit his small brazier. And he thought. And remembered. And reminisced about everything that had gone between himself and Arthur and Darya and anyone that had been in his bed and ... maybe... in his heart. He saw Darya's face - his kinswoman, the mother of his commander's child, and the face of Arthur's future. And yet - that face returned to him more than hers did. More times, in sorrow, pain, in righteous, ridiculous prayer, in hate, in passion and fervor for battle, and a few times, in genuine joy and maybe...maybe something more important. Something Lancelot had never been able to admit in all his years as first, Arthur's enemy, then his begrudging lieutenant, and finally, his closest friend and yes, lover. Lancelot remembered vividly the hurt on Arthur's face as the other man had thrown him out of his quarters for what he'd thought was the last time - tossing the word whore around like it meant nothing to Lancelot. He thought back to their tentative speech after Segedunum, and his own desire to touch the other man one more time, and to have the difficult things past. He breathed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes still squeezed shut, his unbleached clothing hanging loose and clean on his slender frame. His eye and his head and his wounded arm throbbed, and his heart ached and his breath was shallow and injured. And suddenly, his dark eyes opened and he decided he'd had enough of waiting. He'd had enough of indecision, and by the gods, he didn't care who was in that room with Arthur - he was going there and he and the Roman were either going to talk like friends (or at least like civil men) or they would have the fight that had been brewing since Lancelot turned his back on Arthur's request to admit to his truth. I...gods. Can I say it? He didn't know. He wasn't sure if he felt what he needed to be feeling to give Arthur what the man had wanted, but he would find out, and either way, he would have an ending to this confusion and soul-deep pain. He was done with it. He scrubbed a hand through his almost dry hair, and turning to his boots, he pulled them on, and tossed a long leather coat over his pale garments. He brushed his fingers over his chest, and hesitating merely once, removed the lion pendant from where he'd stored it under his pillow and put it on. He was Lancelot ap Ban, son of Sarmatia, and he was going to stand up for himself and put whatever ridiculous, stupid notions of despair that were between him and his friend to rest. Or he would fight Arthur, and he would leave Badon. He opened his door, and slid out of his rooms. The night was chilly; he could feel the blast from the stone walls and floor as he took the short walk from his rooms to the much finer quarters that housed the Roman he was seeking. He snugged his arms around his torso, his coat slapping his legs, and he stopped as he reached the dark wooden door that shut Arthur's retreat from the world. He licked his lips, and raised his hand, digits forming a small fist. And then laughed to himself, and turned the handle, knowing the door would be unlocked. It was, and he pushed inside, eyes scanning the room for any other persons. No, just Arthur's hunched form, shirtless and shoeless, most definitely praying as the other man gripped the sides of his wash basin. Lancelot expected to feel anger, or remorse, or the typical surge of annoyance that allowed him to berate the commander anytime he found him doing the idiotic obiesance to his 'god.' Instead, a strange and maybe a bit unwelcome feeling washed over him, and he rested against the closed door, his arms releasing their tight hold on himself. He opened his eyes as wide as he could, trying to really see Arthur through the black bruise and exhaustion that coated his own expression. Relief. It was strange, and it made Lancelot's stomach hurt. Perhaps, though, that was not a bad thing. "Artos," he murmured, staying where he was, leant against the wood, his full lips rising without his say so into the semblance of a true smile. A real smile, and though it felt rusty, it also felt good. "You're here." |
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| golden_trillium | Jun 6 2010, 04:42 PM Post #64 |
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Author: LadyCastus Date: Tue Jan 13, 2009 8:27 pm Titrus and Karl Titrus looked around the commons, breathing in the cool evening air. Despite the misery that came with life at Badon, it was home and after riding hard for a full day and dealing with the woads, the stinky hell hole was a welcomed sight. It felt good to be home and it felt good to be alive in the company with his mates, Quintus and most recently, the big burly man himself, Bors. As the men walked toward the tavern, there was a steady dialogue going on between them about one thing or another. Everyone seemed to be light in spirit and Titrus couldn't help but hope that somewhere, Malcus was feeling the same way. Perhaps he would be lenient on him and Quintus and ease the punishment Barbattus had issued before they left. Surely, the captain's temper had calmed by now and he would be more reasonably. So Titrus hoped. As they got closer to the tavern, Quintus moved closer to the lieutenant with a half smirk on his face.
Titrus was just about to ask Quintus to whom he was referring when out the corner of his eye, Titrus spotted the blond walking closeby. As he turned to look, Titrus recognized the undeniable sensous sway of the hips. It was Catherine. "That there mate, is walking honey," Titrus smiled, remembering his earlier tryst with the whore. Despite his bravado, there was a definite shade of crimson rising on the lieutenant's scruffy cheeks. His randy comment surprised even himself. Titrus realized with bittersweetness, that perhaps he really was ready to move on with his life without his beloved Deeta and that maybe he had been in mourning long enough. Just then he thought of his precious daughters but suddenly thoughts of Ione, the beautiful weaver eased their way into his mind. Ione. Such a kind woman. Titrus decided to have a couple of drinks with the men, then go to find her and thank her for her tentativeness. As he held the door open for the others to enter, Titrus realized he hadn't eaten all day. "Hellfire! I'm thirsty AND starving!" Titrus growled.
Titrus laughed heartily and slapped Bors on his broad back. "I'm no mooching whelp, Bors. I said I'm buying so you better be thirsty. Once the cap'n gets done with me, I won't have money to buy a piece of bread with! So let's get at mate and I hope that lovely woman of yours has got some food in here too because I'm starved! Come on Quint. Bren, tonight you'll drink like a real man!" The lieutenant walked behind them and soon they found a table large enough for them all. Karl sat at the table with his head hung low, grumbling incoherently to himself. He'd been drinking for several hours, since the morning hours with Mirtha, so he wasn't very clear about the head at all. A loud commotion at the front door made him curious and he struggled to raise his large cranium high enough to see what was going on. When his head was upright, he couldn't tell which was spinning - it, or the room. That only served to annoy him even more. He squinted his bloodshot blue eyes and glared at the tavern's entrance. The blond soldier grunted with disgust when he recognized the men entering the room. The buggers surely are back, well fuck them! They should have all died at the hands of the fucking blue demons! Karl tossed back the remaining contents of his cup and struggled with everything in him to raise his large bulk off the wooden bench. When he was standing, he wobbled a bit as he tried to get his legs under him. Slowly and with great effort, the big man made his way toward the door, trying to avoid contact with the other men. However, just as he passed by a table, he recognized the woman that had ealier puked in his food and almost on him. Karl glared at her and was about to chastize her again when he narrowed his gaze and saw Linnesse sitting with her. Karl stared at Linnesse with his mouth wide open, totally confused. "What the fuck didya do to ya hair?" he asked nastily. Before she could respond, the drunkard continued in barely recognizable English, "Never mind that, I don't give a shit about yer hair. You came back for me din'cha?" Karl looked Linnesse up and down. "But you changed yer clothes too? Whadidyadothatfer? What's it matter? You din'even need clothes at all with ole Karl," he snickered lecherously and then stuck out his tongue at the woman and gyrated his hips once, flashing a partially yellow smile. |
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| golden_trillium | Jun 6 2010, 04:43 PM Post #65 |
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Author: Elessars Girl Date: Tue Jan 13, 2009 9:20 pm Arthur A tiny trickle of leftover bath water ran down Arthur’s spine and pooled at the waistband of his black leather trousers. It left in its wake smaller still goose bumps that decorated his back like the prickly dew of a chilly morning frost. His eyes remained tightly shut. And all that Arthur inhaled was the lingering earthy scent of the unguent he’d used to shave with. The flames made a crackling sound as they consumed the kindling in the hearth, but the warmth they generated did not reach quite Arthur – oddly enough. Did God not hear his prayers? Was this emptiness all that Arthur was to feel? As the bitter sting of the day’s failure finally began to subside, another much more intimate concern shifted into the forefront of Arthur’s thoughts….he was to become a father. He would have a child to protect. And it’s mother…Darya. Arthur loved her in his own way yet still doubted her ability to remain faithful – first it had been the previous Optio and then the harlot….and who knows who else. Arthur had trusted Darya and she had betrayed him. But he would not abandon his own flesh and blood…..but…..Arthur would protect himself from further betrayals. ….and then – as they always did – his thoughts returned to Lancelot. His fingers attempted to bite into the rough wood finish of the wash stand. It hurt, but Arthur did not readily feel it. I shall have faith in him and faith in that which binds us. Oh heavenly father….please forgive me and show me what path I must take… Arthur’s head was still bowed in prayer when his ears heard the distinct sound of the door latch click open. But before he would lift his head to discover whomever it was that now entered his chambers, Arthur silently completed his supplicates to his God. Faith is what protected him and his faith would be his salvation.
Arthur slowly canted his head and opened his eyes to the sound of that voice. Lancelot ap Ban. First Knight. Best Friend. Lover. Soul mate. It was all brilliantly clear right there in that one moment when liquid green eyes met dark amber orbs….and poignantly so at seeing the smile that graced Lancelot’s typically cynical angular features. I have been a fool for far too long. ...and the world snapped into sudden, knife-edged clarity. “Lancelot,” Arthur spoke the other man’s name gently and with reverence as the Roman straightened his back and released his grip on the wash stand. He turned to face Lancelot – no mask, no stubborn pride and no question in his expression. This is what was meant to be. Arthur’s gaze traveled the whole length of the other man and he was pleased to see that his lieutenant’s appearance was much improved since he’d seen Lancelot last. Even that black and swollen eye looked less menacing tonight. Good. “I am pleased to see that you followed my instruction and found the baths,” Arthur said with a small smile of his own; his eyes crinkling at the corners with mirth despite his weariness. The Roman was genuinely glad to see the other man and it showed. “Come…” He extended a hand to Lancelot while he crossed the room to the chest that held his clothing. The Roman would dress for bed and talk….for once in his life talk without boundaries. And he had much to say. “I have missed you…here,” Arthur added quietly while he placed the palm of his hand over his heart. His true feelings for Lancelot were clearly written on his face and there in the depths of his green, green eyes. The certainty was right there staring back at Arthur in the way that Lancelot also looked at him…Hope. Trust. Faith. Truth. Love. Nothing else mattered. |
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| golden_trillium | Jun 6 2010, 04:45 PM Post #66 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Tue Jan 13, 2009 10:03 pm Brendyn, Vanora, and Ione
Brendyn could not agree more with the starving. He could not recall, but an apple, since he had eaten last... the apple having been devoured before the meeting earlier in the morning. He laughed at the joke about his wanting meade, but it honestly was his favorite drink. It brought him back to the colder than cold winter nights in Brittany, sitting by the fire with a hot mug of meade. Well, this was not home, so time to try other drinks. "I suppose you are a good teacher at the art of drinking, Bors...." Brendyn's eyes sparkled as he followed Titrus and the rest through the door of the tavern, closing it behind him while laughing heartily with the others. It felt damn good to laugh. They found a huge table near the fire which felt good... the heat warming him through. Brendyn removed his cloak and flung it over the back of his chair. He sat across from the fireplace, and waited for the others to sit as well. Vanora looked up and a smile crossed her face. Bors was home! As the men walked to the table, she brushed the front of her apron with her hands, then approached them while they were seating themselves, "Welcome home. What can I get all of you?" A movement caught her eye and she saw Karl attempting to leave the tavern... Not far from them was Karl, the soldier they had kept back here at the fort, who was apparently drunk. Very drunk. Brendyn's eyes moved from the man to those around the table, then back. The man just looked like trouble waiting to happen... and it did. Ione saw the group come through the door, and her heart leapt at the sight of Titrus. Thank the gods he had come home safely! Her soft smile was short lived as she saw the drunken man stand unsteadily, and try to make it to the tavern door. As he passed by their table, Ione looked panicked at the man then at Linnesse, then hoped the man would just leave them alone. It was a short lived hope. The drunk's eyes leered at her, then moved to Linnesse. Once again, the man's smell made her stomach churn. The weaver looked over at the men who had entered and hoped that they would just get this man out of the tavern. When the man's slurred voice broke the conversation between Linnesse and she, Ione felt her sadness turn to anger...
Ione's eyes narrowed at the man spoke. This was her friend that he was insulting. "Leave us alone!" Ione hissed. Her courage soon began to wane a bit as she realized that this man could harm them both. The way he was acting frightened her. Memories of her past came back to haunt her just then the drunken soldier and his men... the heavy snows, and the feel of cold chilling her... hands beating her senseless... blackness... The weaver placed both hands protectively over the moving child to protect it. Pleadingly, Ione looked over at Bors and the rest... |
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| golden_trillium | Jun 6 2010, 04:50 PM Post #67 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Wed Jan 14, 2009 10:39 am Quintus, Linnesse, and Tristan
"Aye," Quintus agreed fervently, his eyes practically glued to the sight of the blonde woman's neatly swaying bum as she went over to the counter to order. So intent was the Centurion on the extremely fetching sight that he heard almost nothing of what his companions were saying, and in fact had to hurry a couple of steps to catch up with them at the table which they had chosen. Honey indeed...Quintus kept eyeing the blonde, even as Bors' woman came over to take their order, wondering if there was any chance she was for sale, and, more to the point, could he afford her. A woman like that could charge anything she wanted- could be a general's mistress, if she put her mind to it! But yet here she was hanging around batting her eyelashes at common soldiers...almost a pity, except that this way it meant that Quintus had a chance. If the Lieutenant didn't get to her first. Table conversation might not have been able to distract Quintus, but soon enough, something else did. While Vanora was still standing at their table, waiting for their orders, Karl, that damned troublemaker, staggered to his feet from a table behind her and began to lurch his way drunkenly to the tavern entrance. Despite disappointment at being distracted from the blonde, Quintus followed Karl with his eyes, intent on just making sure the man left without incident- but it was not to be. He stopped by two women sitting at a table and immediately began to prove what a bastard he was.
Sitting at the table across from Ione, Linnesse was simply stunned. The ugly, drunken man was no one she had ever seen before, and his voice was so badly slurred she could only make out about one word in three, though she managed to gather that the man thought she had changed her hair and clothes, and heard some nasty language. What? Linnesse shook her head faintly, blue eyes wide, her whole body stiff. She just didn't know what to do! Across from her, it was Ione who spoke up first, her hands protectively over her stomach.
"I...I think you've mistaken me for someone else...sir," Linnesse heard herself saying faintly, her voice barely a whisper and her eyes glued to the man. She did not feel capable of moving, of doing anything at all- his presence froze her blood. Across the open space between the tables, Quintus growled an irritated oath. "Oh, for fuck's sake," he grumped, pushing his chair back from the table preparatory to getting up and throwing Karl out of the damn tavern by his sorry collar. He had caught the dark-haired woman's panicked look, and the blonde just seemed frozen, though her mouth had moved. Was Karl capable of doing anything without fucking it up? Could he possibly let his Centurion gaze at beautiful women for two minutes without needing to be taken to task? Unseen by either Linnesse or Quintus, the tavern door opened, and Tristan stepped in, straight from checking on his hawk and ready for some dinner. He saw immediately that a rather tense scene was going on, but simply skirted it, figuring it was none of his business unless he was directly threatened. Completely unperturbed, he made his way to the bar, where he leaned his elbows on the wood, waiting for service- and noticing quite suddenly that Catherine, the blonde whore whom he had had yesterday, was sitting not too far down the bar, her back to the counter and her eyes gazing out at the room. She didn't seem to have noticed him, yet...but Tristan's eyes were drawn to her, thoughtfully. She had been very nice, yesterday, and he had been sorry to cut things short...but then again, perhaps she was busy, and he didn't want to bother her. He remained there, fighting a certain amount of indecision, as he waited for one of the wenches to bring him some food. |
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| golden_trillium | Jun 6 2010, 04:52 PM Post #68 |
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Author: Unicorn Date: Wed Jan 14, 2009 11:01 am Dagonet
Dagonet looked at her meaningfuly. No apologise where needed! He agreed and wanted to help her if he could. Even if it broke his own heart and his own sorrow wasn't diminished. He felt helpless about the situation. Not many days have passed after he had lost his son... and now he was sitting here as a model for a picture of Gedeon. It made his heart beat very hard against his chest. He was calm on the outside but inside, he felt very nervous and out of place. This shouldn't happen, he repeated in his mind. There should be no need of making the drawing of Gedeon... Gedeon should become a father and Dagonet should help him in growing his child... He should help him and Linnette in being there for them. And now he helped broken Linnette to have something, some image of Gedeon that she would show to her child... half orphan. It shouldn't be like that...
Dagonet looked back at Mari and saw her smile at him, so he answered her with the same, but much more weaker smile. He tried to encourage her, Linnette wanted this... even if his heart cried the opposite.
Knight looked back at Linnette with a slight frown as she came closer with a book. His face expression changed into more brighter one... It made the tense situation in the room change... into much more easier to breathe. Dagonet was not laughing at the words Linnette read, but in some parts a cheerful smile appeared. He also watched Saoirse from the corner of his eyes. Wishing they would be alone right now... that they would just stay together and wouldn't have to think about sorrowful things...
Dagonet looked at Mari with surprise. Already? He tried to notice what have she drawn. "Already?" he asked and his heart again geting tensed... Does this will help Linnette in any way? Or was it vain try? |
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| golden_trillium | Jun 6 2010, 04:53 PM Post #69 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Wed Jan 14, 2009 9:01 pm Linnette
“That was fast!” Linnette exclaimed, shutting the book and popping up once more to stand behind Mari, where she could get a good look at the sketch the girl had made. She peered at it thoughtfully, pursing her lips, and tilting her head to look at it from first this angle, then that. It was Dagonet. That leaped out at her immediately- Mari obviously had a great talent for drawing what she saw, and the face looking at Linnette from the paper right now was, unmistakably, that of Dagonet. Parts of it might be rough and sketchy, with a few stray pencil lines going this way and that, but it was immediately recognizable as the man in front of them. And not as Gedeon. Linnette frowned, her brow creasing worriedly between her eyebrows, but then quickly suppressed the frown and summoned a reassuring smile for Mari. This was what Mari had said she would do, after all- draw Dagonet first, and then change or add details from Linnette’s description of Gedeon. Linnette really shouldn’t be expecting anything else- but that didn’t mean it wasn’t disappointing, at least momentarily. What if the drawing never looked like anyone other than Dagonet at all? “It’s good- it’s very good.” Linnette nodded vigorously, as though trying to convince herself- though her words were no lie, in that the drawing was exquisitely well done for a quick sketch- and belatedly reached down and turned an edge of the paper so that Dagonet himself could see the drawing. She had realized only now that he had been craning his neck awkwardly to see it. Saoirse peered over curiously, too, from the window ledge where she had been, quite incongruously, carving along the shaft of a spear with a knife, and Linnette tilted the paper a little more, letting both of them see the sketch. The story continues in New Alliances- A New Dawn (on the main NA board). |
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