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Post by Pinkie on Apr 18, 2009 21:28:45 GMT
 The heat of her blush was palpable. Haldir was no magical being. His age had allowed him to sharpen his senses, to become more aware and in tune with all around him - it was this awareness that he employed when dealing with humans. It was this awareness that made humans feel or think that Elves were somehow magical, that they had special powers and abilities. The truth was, that if humans lived as Elves did in both spirit and number of years, they too would be as sage and knowing. Haldir tilted his haed to the side, listening intently to the silence between them. She opened her mouth to speak but did not utter a word so he listened to the words she did not say instead. His lips tilted, but barely, into a smile and his eyes dropped to her neck, to the twitching pulse in her neck that was racing. Why was her heart beating so? Had she interpretted his words wrong? She was not lying - he knew that she was not lying, she was a terrible liar, and yet there was a weight to her silence, a heavy longing. What did she hide? And then he saw it. The light of her dark eyes changed, the thump of her heart altered minutely and he lifted his eyes from her neck to her eyes and the smile became more relaxed, less concentrated. They had reached an understanding, perhaps. Haldir nodded his head as if she had indeed spoken. He took a step backwards, chin lifted and earthy eyes looking above her head towards teh door where Joe West and John Kawalsky had gone through. There was little time to spare in beginning their mission and alot to do before they began. They needed to sort themselves out into fellowships dedicated to a specified task. Fear or desire or hatred... one of the three made Eledhwen's heart continue to beat hard in her chest. Haldir did not know which, and with the true aloofness of his character he resolved that it did not matter which of the three affected her so when she was near him. All that mattered was that she knew their purpose, their immediate purpose, their greater purpose, was the same. "Good." he said quietly. For a moment his eyes glistened with merriment as he looked down at Eledhwen and nodded his head towards teh door he had been looking at as he stepped away from her gracefully. "By the way... the tall one likes you. He has a good heart but be careful. He is dangerous." the Elf spoke as he moved, turning away from her and walking out of the room. He lifted his chin as he stepped over the threshold into the corridor and though he did not raise his voice his words were so crisp, clear and confident that it seemed to come from every corner of the room quietly. "Know who your friends are, shield-maiden." Haldir told her. He did not explain if it were a warning or merely a suggestion but he hoped that it might lessen some of her prickliness towards him. He could not exactly call himself a friend to her but he was a friend of human-kind and would do all he could to protect them for in protecting them he protected his people also. ((ooc : wasn't Faramir gonna go get the sword from Aragorn? Is Aragorn abdicated or something ? Why'd they need the sword again? Haha - and who is giong with who! I'm so dazzled by this all I cant remember any of our plans - heh! If you want Eledhwen to carry on talking to Haldir go for it - he hasn't left YET. )) |
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Post by Pinkie on Apr 18, 2009 22:23:21 GMT
 Gypsy puffed out her cheeks as far as she could and held it for as long as she could. Her wide, bright brown eyes were bulging slightly due to the indurance test she was putting herself through out of sheer boredom. To be fair she looke comfortable, sat on one of the plush beds in the infirmary, hospital... healing place. One of her legs was crooked at the knee, the other lay flat on the mattress, bandaged about her slender thigh. Fluffed up pillows behind her supported her slight shoulders and her hands were folded flat over her tight stomach. The jacket of her fatigues was thrown down the end of the bed and there was a rather large and blood encrusted hole visible from under the bandage though. She had been sitting there for a long time and whilst she was comfortable, she was getting bored. Not only that - she was kinda sorta curious as to what Mark was up to. Or Kawalsky. Or West. Or any of them really - she just wanted company. The doctors who came by to look at her now and then were pleasant enough but they were up to their eyeballs with injuries and just kept telling her to rest and relax. Well she had done enough of that. They had bandaged the gash in her thigh and she was certain that she would be alright to walk now. Her face turned pink. Then red. Her lips turned pale and she finally puffed out the breath she had been holding, gasping in a fresh breath and drumming her fingers against her tummy in boredom. "That's it." she muttered to herself, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. As she stood there was a shot of pain through her wounded thigh but it wasn't unbearable so she persevered. Hitching in a breath, Gypsy hobbled to the end of the bed and threw her jacket on over her issue vest, zipping it up half-way before beginning the awkward hobble out of the houses of healing. No matter how she tried not to, she inevitably thought about MArk, about what had happened last night. Or what hadn't happened even. There hadn't been any real awkwardness between them earlier so she presumed things were still good between them despite the atmosphere that had been thick between them the night before. Her cheeks flushed even to think about it - how she had been lying on the bed and he had seen her tatoos... adn the sneak look she had taken when he was changing, the touch on the back of her neck and that final kiss she had given him before skipping out of his room to her own. It had all seemed so casual and easily explained away the night before, but now thinking back on it Gypsy found her stomach in a knot and her heart racing. The young woman scratched the back of her neck shyly, feeling awkward even thinking about Mark and looked up to see where she was... and didn't recognise the damn place. "Oh shit.." she murmured, turning to look back the way she had come and didn't recognise it at all. She looked the other end of the corridor and tottered forward, peering one way and then another trying to figure out where she was. The place was huge - it was easy to get lost in such a big place, but she still felt a bit dumb standing there lost. Tsking, Gypsy placed a hand on her hip and turned a full, slow circle before coming back to her original position nonethewiser. She snorted in amusement at her predicament and shrugged, heading off the way she had been going, figuring she would find something she recognised soon enough. Up ahead she noticed a broad-shouldered male, native to the city she presumed by his dress, striding along ahead of her. Her eyes brightened. "Oh hey!" she called out cheerily, hobbling along quicker now, a hand against the wall for balance and her bad leg dragging just a little as she tottered up behind Boromir. When she got a bit closer she was a little breathless but her eyes were bright and full of vitality, her short, dark hair standing out at sweet, odd angles and a ready laugh on the tip of her tongue. "Hey there! Boy am I glad to see you - I'm so lost in this place, it's huuuuuuuuuuuuuge!" she laughed, cocking her head to the side and smiling up at the man. "Hey you look kinda familiar!" Gypsy said, pointing a small finger at Boromir, her brow furrowign as she tried to recall why he would be familiar, or rather, which of the people she had been introduced to was he! |
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Post by Bogwoppit on Apr 19, 2009 19:26:44 GMT
West nodded as Kawalsky stood up, and began to follow him to the door. At the mention of the girl though he stopped, fixing his 2IC with a questioning smirk as he stepped around him. "Eledhwen huh? Why you so interested?" His smirk widened into a grin, and he shook his head as he placed his hand on the door handle, looking back at the taller man. "I think the Elf has some plan for her too, yeah," he continued, not taking the teasing any further. What his men, and women for that matter, got up to in their own time was their business, as long as it didn't affect the job. "Don't know everything he's thinking though, he's a strange one alright. Got that... knowing look about him, you know? Like he sees everything but thinks we can only be trusted with so much information." He shrugged as he stepped out into the corridor, and spotted the object of the conversation stepping out of a room further along. "Maybe he thinks we wouldn't help if we knew too much," he concluded quietly. "Maybe he thinks we scare easily." He chuckled softly, thinking just how wrong that assumption was, if that was why Haldir hadn't told them everything. Some of the things his team had experienced - and Kawalsky was living proof of some of it - would turn even an Elf's hair white! "I'm gonna grab a show... bath," West grimaced at the thought of having to wait for some servant to fill a tub before he could get clean. "I guess we'll be eating in the 'grand hall' again. I'll see you later Kawalsky. Get some rest." |
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Post by Bogwoppit on Apr 19, 2009 19:47:26 GMT
Lake didn't turn around at the first plea, but at the second, more desparate one he stopped, and closed his eyes slowly and deliberately for a second, taking a deep calming breath, before spinning on his heel and marching back into the room. He gritted his teeth and strode over to where the girl sat, one creamy calf exposed as her skirt rode up her leg. Her blonde hair fell over her face and he knew if he looked she would be crying again. "Fuck!" he muttered, having a hard time keeping his temper. At times like this he could actually see the good side of a woman like Thrace, who would have no qualms about stepping over a dead guy - who would probably have been the one to make him dead in the first place if he'd been the enemy. Still, this one was genuinely scared, and if he was ever going to get a bloody drink he was going to have to do something about her. Hunkering down in front of her he put one calloused hand under her delicate chin and lifted her face up so that he could look into her eyes. "I'll carry you alright?" he told her, not a question but a statement, merely informing her of his intentions, not asking her permission. No doubt she would scream blue murder when he picked her up, but at this point Lake was past caring. At least if all Daddy's guards came running he could get rid of her a bit quicker. Tilting his head to one side to see where best to get hold of her, he slid one arm under her legs and the other around her back. Then straightening up he lifted her small weight easily, shifting his grip the easier to hold her. "Put your arm round my neck," he instructed her brusquely. "Don't worry, you won't catch anything." Stepping over the dead man in the doorway, he didn't put her down immediately, but carried her along the corridor, past several more dead men and three dead Orcs. The stench from their black blood was nauseating, but Lake ignored it and kept walking. |
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Post by Bogwoppit on Apr 19, 2009 22:11:36 GMT
Oh he heard alright... he heard, and his heart clenched at the thought of what exactly she was promising him there. Not that it was any of his business, not any more, but it still hurt to think of her with other men. When he wasn't with her he was fine. When he was working, and even when he was at home with Molly, he hardly ever gave Katee a second thought. He could go whole days without her entering his head, he honestly could. He was getting on with his life. He was fine. But when he saw her - rarely these days to be fair as their work took them further and further apart - when he saw her all the pain came rushing back, and he couldn't help but wish things were different. He knew they could never be of course - they were poles apart when it came to... well, everything really - their outlook on life, their morals, their hopes and dreams... But still he wished. And still he knew it could never be. He clenched his jaw and gave Boromir a hard glare as Thrace took his arm, as usual making light of a serious situation, just the way she always did. The bearded man scowled back at him, but made no move to follow, and Mark didn't miss the small smile of acknowledgment which passed between him and Katee before she steered him off into an empty room. That was one thing this place wasn't short of - places to be alone, and for that Mark was grateful. It wouldn't be the first time Katee had chosen to air their dirty laundry in public, so he guessed he should be thankful for small mercies that she hadn't deliberately humiliated him this time. "Don't be childish Katee," he replied in what she would call his 'grown-up' voice as he shook off the grip she had on his arm. He turned to face her, a sad look of resignation in his blue eyes. She wouldn't make this easy, he knew it, and he now regretted his outburst of earlier. But he had been scared then, scared shitless if she wanted to know. He hadn't wanted to die on some alien planet and leave Molly all alone. "Look, I'm sorry for what I said... before," he said lamely, folding his arms across his chest defensively. "It was... I was..." He took a deep breath and blew it out through pursed lips, looking down at the floor then back up at her. "I don't know what you want from me Katee," he admitted simply. |
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Post by Bogwoppit on Apr 20, 2009 18:24:02 GMT
((Ooc: I can't believe she didn't actually say anything in that last post??!!  Sorry - she didn't give you much to work with there!  )) He was laughing at her!! She could see it in those infuriatingly blue eyes! Eledhwen could not believe the Elf was actually laughing at her! She stepped forward furiously as he turned away to walk out of the door, intent on pulling him up for his arrogance. Assuming that she was agreeing with him indeed! And that nod! So condescending! Yes, a mere nod could be condescending... when it was an Elf doing the nodding, especially this Elf! Before she could speak, however, he was saying something more, and as that sank in he continued, not looking at her, but his voice carrying easily back to her as she stared at his broad shoulders. "What do you mean by that?" she demanded, following him and reaching up without thinking to grab his arm, to stop him walking away from her. But as she touched him a jolt like electricity shot through her fingers and all the way to her shoulder. She gasped, and let go, staring at her hand in shock. Her fingers still tingled, and she shook them experimentally, frowning as she risked looking back up at his annoyingly passive face. "Wh... what do you mean know who my friends are?" she asked again, but without so much conviction. "And... he... what...? How do you know...?" As she spoke she saw movement along the corridor, as West came out of another room further down. She spotted the object of the question following him and fell silent. Did he? Did John really like her? Or was he just being friendly? She had little experience with men, and really had no interest in them in that way. Her greatest love was the horses which roamed across the plains of Rohan, and she had not yet discovered the lure of the less fair sex. As she thought this she glanced at Haldir once again, and swallowed uneasily. She did not like Kawalsky in that way... he was too... strange... those yellow eyes... But she did like him. He took the time to talk to her, and so far she had not had the impression that he had an ulterior motive, unlike some of the men - or boys - of Rohan who so obviously tried to woo her, who tried to appear so casual but who failed miserably. Kawalsky was not a boy. He was a man.. and yet at the same time more and less than a man. Perhaps he was just better at hiding his true agenda from her than her native countrymen. And now the Elf had to go and ruin it. How could she ever be relaxed with the tall man again, knowing what Haldir had just told her? She would be wary around John now, not relaxed as she had been the night before; as relaxed as the shield-maiden ever was that is. She glared at Haldir. Was that what he meant by his, 'know who your friends are' comment? Did he mean that these strangers were friends? Or that they weren't? And what about himself? Was he in his obscure poetic Elfish way trying to tell her something about himself too? She huffed out an annoyed breath. Why couldn't he just say what he meant? |
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Post by Pinkie on Apr 20, 2009 22:13:24 GMT
 Kawalsky had been led by West for long enough to know that if he remained quiet that the conversation would go no further. West would not pry, he would not prod and he would not mock or try and set him up or anything of the sort. As a rule the werewolf did not 'fall' for women, and he told himself resolutely that he hadn't 'fallen' for Eledhwen. It was just that she was kinda like him in a sense... she had lost to an alien-race too. And she was so small. She was just a tiny thing. It wasn't wrong of him to be a little concerned about her, to be a bit cautious of her feelings when he knew that she had an aversion to the blonde Elf-man. So Kawalsky remained quiet, not even twitching his jaw though it was tempting, when West passed his initial comment. Expectant yellow eyes merely looked at the back of his CO's head. John valued West's opinion. Again, it probably had alot to do with the fact that Kawalsky was a natural sheep - he would follow a good leader through hell and back, he could take orders like and follow through on them even if he didn't like or agree with them. He was no leader though. It was easy for a man like that to value the opinion of the man who was in charge then. The man gave his CO a wolfy smile when he made his comment about the team scaring easily. Though his teeth were not overtly so, they still appeared to be a little sharper, a little longer, and there seemed to be a few more of them than strictly necessary ash e smile, a dark tint to his eyes as he did so. Kawalsky was stepping out after his CO when West told him he should get some sleep. He didn't like the sounds of things from the Elf though - that he had plans for Eledhwen.. why was he making plans for her at all? Why couldn't she make her own plans? Kawalsky had an inkling the girl wouldn't really like the Elf making her plans. Well, she would like it about as much as he himself would. As they stepped out of the room, Kawalsky looked up to nod his head at West and saw Eledhwen. She looked down at him but turned away just as quickly, her undivided attention lifted to the Elf. Kawalsky's jaw did tense then, the tendons craeked and his fingers clenched into his fist as his yellow eyes looked from the Elf's impassive smirk to the back of Eledhwen's upturned head and then to West. "Sir." Kawalsky replied stiffly to his CO's farewell and battled with himself on whether he should turn and do as he was told by getting some rest or if he should wait and see if Eledhwen was ok. Not that she needed him to fight her battles, but she had made mention to him that she didn't trust or like the Elf and now she was in conversation with him, perhaps she would be upset or want to vent her frustrations at someone about the blonde creature? Kawalsky swallowed hard and his head dropped. Even if she did want to discuss or vent she would be better off doing it with someone else. With a sad smile, Kawalsky half turned.... paused, chewed the inside of his cheek and sighed again as he walked off, the barest hint of a hitch in his step from his wounded thigh. |
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Post by Pinkie on Apr 21, 2009 19:59:26 GMT
 Hardships that Elendur had faced to date were but daily blips on most people's radars. She was a beloved sister and doted on daughter. She had little to truly worry about and liked her life like that. It was easy to be beloved and doted on - it was much, much harder to be strong in the face of evil, to be fearless in the face of terror or to be resilient when challenged. Elendur was a strong woman, strong in herself, in who she was and what she was, she knew her own worth and she loved her family with every bone in her body, but she was no warrior. What Lake expected of her was probably something Elendur could have overcome in a life or death situation but remaining in the room had not seemed to be immediately deterimental to her health and so she had been unable to overcome her fear of being near the corpse in order to follow him. She was also so well pampered that hse knew that he would come back. And he did. She sat upon the ground, a beautiful mess, and sobbed. The man muttered and she heard his boots close. Elendur lifted her tear-stained face and looekd at him with blood-shot eyes, beautiful and tragic upon his direction, a grubby finger beneath her pretty chin. It was not ideal but it was certainly more favourable than traipsing over the corpse herself. For such a wiry man he had enough strength to lift her from the ground without hassle or hindrance and then proceed out of the room. Elendur was trying not to put her arm around his neck - it would look unseemly... and he was quite grubby about the neck too. But when he ordered her brusquely to do so, and told her she would not catch anything, even she, in her current petrified state, could see the humour in it. The woman breathed a shaky laugh and sniffed sadly as she draped an arm around his neck. Hesitant at first, she held her body stiff and as far from his as she cuold manage without falling out of his arms - but after a moment she got a bit used to the grimey smell of him, the grubby look of him and let her body ... relax. She dipped her head to the side, resting her cheek against her own upper arm, her forehead brushing against Lake's unshaven cheek. The woman closed her eyes and sighed. Not content but she did feel remarkably safe even if the man that was making her feel safe looked as much of a reprobate as the orcs themselves. "Have you fought orcs before, sir? You seem quite unaffected by their ... appearance... and smell." she whispered the words and lifted her blonde head when she recognised where they were. They were close to the main hall - where her father would be, or Faramir or Boromir... or someone civilised! "Here!" she said hurriedly, wriggling a little in his arms, her hand unconsciously spread flat against the back of his neck to balance herself in his arms as she craned her neck to see down the long corridor to the main hall - thankfully the corridor was devoid of any corpses!a |
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Post by Pinkie on Apr 21, 2009 20:20:49 GMT
 Thrace was good at what she was good at. She had never pretended to be anything other than a tom-boy, military brat. Yeah she loved Mark, she loved Molly too - but she had never led him on to believe she was ... good, or anything like that. Thraace may not have liked who she was but she didn't deny it. Ever. The blonde gave an unamused smirk at Mark's predictable response to what he had just witnessed. He shook her arm off adn she did not fight it, merely stepped back away from him and folded her arms beneath her breasts and sucked her lips in tight between her teeth as she turned her hazel eyes on her former-lover. Her look was unamused, it was insolent. It told Mark that she didn't fucking appreciate him engaging his 'grown-up' voice on her. Informing him silently that he had no right to do it either. As he turned a sad look on her the blonde rolled her eyes and looked pointedly away from him, aiming her gaze to a point about 2 feet above his right shoulder so that he was still in her field of vision but ensuring that he knew that she was not going to put up with a lecture from him. That was what she had utterly hated about being in a relationship with him! The way he mothered her, smothered her! Why did he have to be so fucking ... stuffy! He didn't let his hair down and he didn't let her let her hair down either, not really. They had to do things right - he never let himself put a foot wrong because he was so fucking scared... ! Scared of ... of ..., damn, she didn't even know what he was scared of! As he folded his arms over hsi chest, Thrace resolutely unfolded her arms, placing her hands on her hips loosely, her weight shifted to one foot making her stance look even more defensive. The bruise on her cheek from where Lake had hit her was not swollen anymore, and the small cuts and grazes she had taken during the fighting were evident against her pale skin - her fatigues jacket hung open and the rip in the side of her vest from her altercation with Lake the night before revealed a good swathe of pale, flat tummy. His apology was met with a quiet snort from Thrace. She turned the full force of her hazel eyes towards him as he continued, admitting, stupidly, that he didn't know what she wanted. The blond stood a moment looking at him darkly. Her jaw jutted to one side and her tongue poked against her back teetth as she thought. It was obvious that there was something going on behind her eyes - they were dark, but there was a sparkle there, a dangerous glint. Suddenly a smile broke out on her pretty face - a bitter smile. "I want a house in the suburbs, Mark. I want the white picket fence and floral apron for baking cakes with Molly to have for you when you get home from work every evening." she said bitterly, her eyebrows raised and she turned both her hands out from her body, palms flat and pointed upwards. "How's that? Is that what you want from me, Mark? For fuck's sake!" She said in exasperation, turning away from him and running her two hands back through her short, blonde hair. She linked her fingers at the back of her head and tipped her elbows in together before turnign around to look at him again. She loved him. She still loved him, that's why all this was always so hard and awkward. Thrace was terrified of the kind of peaceful life that the granting of that wish would bring. "There you go again!, again... for God's sake Mark, haven't you noticed in all the long and painful years you've spent with me that I don't know what I fucking want? Or ... or maybe I like just taking what I can get when I can get it? Why... why does everything have to be .... " she waved her hands around now, levelling her two hands off together in front of her, creating a box shape as she looked up at Mark, "Why does everything have to not only have a proper place but be in it as well with you?!" Thrace bit the words off in anger, walking past Mark to the far side of the room, bumping his shoulder as she went. She folded one arm across her stomach and balanced her elbow on that arm, pinching her bottom lip thoughtfully, angrily. |
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Post by Pinkie on Apr 21, 2009 21:19:10 GMT
Her following was nothing extraordinary to Haldir. He did not mind it as such though he had thought that her earlier silence had meant something, he had thought it meant that she was no longer going to fight him every step of the way. He would have preferred things to be like that between them but if she insisted on complicating it with her petty, human affairs then ... so be it. But what he did mind, and he minded it very much, was how willfully she reached out and touched him. Normally he was rather aloof from people touching him... well, normally people didn't touch him. They avoided it though they longed to see how his skin felt. Fear and respect kept people from reaching out their hands and actually placing it on an Elf. But this woman, this waif of a woman seemed to have broken free of some mold. Or had she? Haldir felt it too - that jolt. He whirled around to face her, his face had flickered to a terrible anger for the briefest moments but by the time she looked up at him he was impassive. Emotions were something that any Elf knew how to control. Haldir had let his mask slip for only a moment but he was aware of it, aware of the impact the little mite as having on him. She was shaking her fingers and unbeknownst to her, the muscles in his forearm were tense from her touch, the tendons standing out against his pale skin beneath the sleeve of his garment. His words had really put her spinning on a tilted axis. Normally Haldir would have been smugly amused at how he affected one who so obviously did not want to be affected by him, but right now, at this moment when all his years of waiting were coming to a head he could have done without the distraction. Lifting his chin, the Elf looked over Eledhwen's head as she looked around to see John Kawalsky. The man's yellows eyes seemed sad as he walked away and Halir cocked an eyebrow, still looking at the man's retreating back as Eledhwen asked him her silly little questions. Oh couldn't she see what was right before her pretty little nose?! Haldir sighed patiently and shook his head. She was getting stroppy. Her heavy sigh said so much to him, it was like a lengthy conversation and by the end of it he felt like he had had that lengthy conversation and was wearied from it now. His earthy eyes looked down at her intently for a long, long quiet moment. His eyes narrowed a little ... It looked as though he was looking through her, and in a sense he was. For as they stood there Haldir seperated the moody young woman from the words she had spoken. He subtracted all her strops and sulks, her glares and angry words and simply analysed what he knew of her. And then he sighed once more, shaking his head. "Why must you complicate things for yourself, hmm?" he asked her, his tone not angry or scathing, but merely curious. It was not an insult but genuine curiosity. "What do you think I might mean, by telling you to know who your friends are? Do you think it is a threat? A promise? A deliberately ambiguous statement that I would make with the simple intent to confuse you? Or maybe... " he smiled, "Maybe I just wish for you to recognise that one who you think is an enemy might not be an enemy...?" Haldir took a deep breath, his parted lips trembling as he looked above Eledhwen's head and the slender bones in his neck becoming pronounced as he held the breath then gently, whisperingly, released it. |
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Post by Bogwoppit on Apr 22, 2009 18:18:13 GMT
Boromir was that close to kissing the blonde woman before him, he knew she wanted it, wanted him, and this time he would not be put off by his brother or anyone else. The bearded man stopped inches away from that enticing, smirking mouth, and closed his eyes briefly before straightening up and glancing over his shoulder. Another one of those damn soldiers! Not the rough looking one this time, but one altogether smarter... Just how many of these men had this young woman had relationships with?! He frowned ferociously at Mark, but could only watch helplessly as Thrace led him away, seemingly happy to do so. An hour, she had said though... one hour, and she had seemed perfectly happy to agree to it too. So why was she so eager to run off with this man, just as Boromir thought he was getting somewhere? He shrugged, and turned to walk back to his rooms. He would never understand women, and indeed, why should he feel the need to? They had their uses, and some of them provided a pretty conversation at times too, but there was really no need to go deeper than buying them some agreeable trinket when he wanted something. He didn't at first hear her, but when he did he turned immediately as the dark haired nimph ran up to him. This was another of them... he remembered seeing her on the battlements earlier, and if he recalled correctly she had fought rather well up until she was injured. "Boromir," he smiled, reminding her of his name. He couldn't remember hers, but no matter. She was a nice distraction when he was feeling a little digruntled yet again at Katee having escaped him. "You fought bravely today. I hope my city is treating you well?" It was on the tip of his tongue to invite this one to his rooms to sample the wine he had been saving, but his ego swayed him to wait for the outcome of his rendevous with Thrace. |
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Post by Bogwoppit on Apr 22, 2009 18:41:05 GMT
Miriel wandered around the infirmary, at a loss now that all the wounded had been treated and were as comfortable as they could be for now. It was always the same after a battle - the initial rush when there weren't enough hands to cope with all the injured and dying that came through the door, then a period of sorting out who could be saved, who were the most in immediate need of treatment, and those whose suffering could only be eased as much as possible in their last hours of life. Then, once everyone had been treated, there was a time of quiet, of restlessness, of idle fingers which felt as though they should still be trying to help people. This was the time Miriel hated, because it gave her time to think - to ponder all those who had not been saved, and to wonder whether she could have done more. She walked slowly past beds of patients now, and her tired eyes at last lit upon a familiar figure. Lord Faramir was resting quietly, his wounds bathed and dressed, his ruined tunic laying on the chair beside him and bare chest rising and falling slowly as he slept. Miriel did not think the tunic could be saved, but she would not throw it away without first asking him what he wanted done with it. She smiled at the peaceful expression on his bearded face as she paused beside his bed. He needed sleep, and this was the first time she had really seen his noble features without their perpetual look of sadness and worry. As she watched him sleeping she recalled his last words to her before he fell into unconsciousness... Miriel had treated enough delirious soldiers in her time here to know when one was not talking to her, but to an absent sweetheart or lover, and at first she had assumed correctly that Faramir thought himself addressing his wife. But then... then, he had uttered her name... leaving Miriel wondering just which words had been meant for Eowyn, and which for herself. Worse, it had left her hoping that all his words had been aimed at her, and that had made her feel guilty yet again. She should not be feeling this way so soon, and especially not for the young lord. It was wrong, and yet it didn't stop her watching him fondly as he slept now. |
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Post by Bogwoppit on Apr 22, 2009 19:04:39 GMT
She did actually smell quite nice... her fair hair was soft against his cheek as she gave in and relaxed a bit against him. Then again, anything would smell nice next to Orc blood, and the Ogres were fucking foul! Lake was strong; he carried her easily through the destruction of the palace towards where he thought the Great Hall was. Luckily the battle hadn't really got this far, so there weren't the mass of bodies that he had witnessed on his way up from the bottom of the city earlier. Fuck knows what her reaction would have been if she'd had to see the piled up corpses of Gondorian soldiers and Orcs against the walls, waiting to be carried out and burned in heaps or given whatever passed round here for a proper Christian funeral. Lake gave a husky laugh as he turned into a new hallway. "I've fought and killed far worse than them stinking bastards," he informed her casually. "You think they smell bad you should try being up close and personal to a werewolf! Now they stink, fucking terrible! And the Goa'uld..." Lake stopped talking as he felt her hand pressing against the back of his neck, and then stopped walking too, looking in the direction of her waving fingers. He had always been sensitive on the back of his neck, and he twitched involuntarily as her fingertips brushed his ear. He was only human after all... "You can walk from here," he stated gruffly, and dumped her unceromoniously on her bare feet on the dusty floor. As he stepped back from her and let her go his gaze fell to her pale throat, and the tops of her breasts at the neckline of her now filthy blue dress. He narrowed his eyes and swallowed roughly. Yeah... he wouldn't say no, but she was too classy for a bloke like him. "Come on little Miss Prissy," he muttered, "let's go and find Daddy." |
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Post by Bogwoppit on Apr 22, 2009 19:59:09 GMT
Mark knew that glint... only too well, and the sight of it had his heart thudding in his chest. This was usually the point where she started thumping him, not to hurt, just to see if she could get a reaction. Mark always prided himself on his self-control. He never lost his cool, even under the most intense pressure, which was part of the reason he had the job he had. In relationships he was always the reasonable one, the grownup. But Katee... with her he had a job holding his temper sometimes, when she pushed him too hard, which was often. He had never hit her back though, not once in the years they had been together, and now apart, and he wasn't about to start now however hard she pushed. He gritted his teeth and took a deep breath in as she began to rant, holding it until she had finished and then letting it out in a slow hiss. This was Katee all over - always over reacting, always taking everything that step too far, always resorting to sarcasm. As she turned away from him he took a step forward, paused, and changed his mind, not wanting to risk touching her and have her lash out at him. With his habitual frown lining his face with worry he gave his head a small shake and stepped back again, closing blue eyes briefly. It pained Mark to have her talk to him this way, to have her point out what she looked upon as faults and he saw as qualities to be proud of. Surely everyone wanted things to be neat and in order, didn't they? Was that a flaw? To want to know where you stood in the grand scheme of things? He watched her helplessly as she stalked past him, unfolding his arms and holding his hands out to his sides briefly before dropping them down and shoving them into his pockets for fear of trying to touch her again. "There's nothing wrong with knowing what you want Katee," he said quietly. "There's nothing wrong with wanting everything to be right, wanting to be happy. I only ever wanted us to be happy, that's all." He looked at the side of her face for a long moment in silence, then dropped his gaze and walked to the window, gazing blindly out of it onto the vista laid out below. "It's pointless going over all this again," he spoke softly, almost to himself now. "It's too late to change anything. I just..." He spun round and looked at her once more, shrugging his shoulders. "I just wish... I don't know... I wish I could have been what you wanted me to be I guess..." He knew she hated that he would never rise to her bait, that he would never lose his temper with her. She hated not having anything to fight against. But that was the way she made him - when she lost it he always backed down. Not because he was afraid of her, or of confrontation, but because it saddened him to see the underlying anger behind her tawny eyes - the anger that no amount of fighting or arguing would ever quench. It made him unhappy to think he wasn't the right man to take that anger away for her, to make her at peace with herself. He would always love her, and of course he would always love what they had made together - none of this was Molly's fault - but he knew while Katee was still searching for whatever it was she thought she wanted they could never be together, and Mark should be able to move on. He wasn't sure if he could though, not yet. |
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Post by Pinkie on Apr 22, 2009 21:21:56 GMT
 Gypsy was rather light on her feet. Her small frame, short hair, ready smile and wide, pretty eyes made people immediately think of elves or fairies. She was ok with people thinking that when they saw her - she was rather flighty when it came down to it after all. The small woman smiled up at the tall blonde male and tilted her head to the side. He had hair that was altogether a strange length, she thought. It wasn't long hair - not really, and it wasn't short enough to be classed as 'short' either. It would be laughable to say it was a 'bob' cut. It was rather similar to her own hair which, when Gypsy realised it, made her grin impishly. He gave her a ready enough smile which put her at ease, her brown eyes giving a playful twinkle. "Boromir!" she chirped, snapping her fingers and clicking her tongue gently, playfully as he reminded her. In all honesty the name wasn't in the least bit familiar to her but she was certain that he had been there last night and he was someone rather important. And by the way he said 'my city', Gypsy had the unnerving feeling that it was ... like... his. Her lips pursed and she rocked back on her heels, arms folded over the rifle that was slung across her front and she grinned at Boromir. "Well I'm glad someone noticed me fighting bravely. I got knocked for six by one of those big ugly buggers and by the time I came to everyone was just finishing off. I'm not sure you'd say that that was being treated well but it was certainly more favourable than being killed." Gypsy told him and despite the fact that she could have been killed, her tone was light and playful, and she didn't seem to stand still either... she rocked back on her heels, tilted to one side and drummed her fingers against the bar of her rifle. "C'mere... " she stepped in closer to him, her tiny body leaning close to his as she cast a suspicious eye down the corridor and then up to his face, a twinkle in her dark eyes, "That blonde guy... the tall one with the funny eaaaaaaar.... uhm, with the pointed. .. ya know ... ears, " her fingers were swishing up and down from the top of her own ears as she demonstrated, looking earnestly at Boromir, "Is he really an elf? I mean... aren't elves meant to be small little things? Like little humans with pointy ears and ... stuff?" Gypsy queried with a disbelieving shake of her head. It was natural for her to be chatty and curious - even in the company of strangers! |
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