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Post by Bogwoppit on Jun 29, 2009 10:06:22 GMT
DJ walked tiredly into his room and closed the door behind him, ready to collapse in a heap on the huge high bed and forget about getting clean until the morning. He loved his work, loved active service, the adreniline caused by the heat of battle was like nothing else on earth, but he was always exhausted after a mission, and pleased to get back to his rocks and his studies for a while. Quite a while before he could do that here though... they still had to find a way to gate home, as well as the aid West had promised the people of this planet. Still, of all the planets to be stuck on DJ couldn't think of one he would like more, with all the myths and legends seemingly weaved into the fabric of the place. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the door for a moment, letting the greatly appreciated heat from the banked fire warm his bones. Briefly he wondered who had been in to light it, whether it was Mari... Opening his eyes again he looked towards the hearth, and saw a bath tub had been placed before it and filled with steaming hot water. Bliss! That solved the problem of getting clean before bed. Had Mari done that too? Or were there hundreds of servants doing whatever task was needed without thought of who did what? Peeling off his T-shirt, he briefly hoped West would remember to get his jacket back from the woman, Elendur, before he left her with her father... if he left her with her father... Her face had definitely lit up when she had seen the CO. DJ smiled, wondering if he would ever have that effect on women, and kicked off his boots as he turned his thoughts to Mari once again. Was she alright? He should have gone back to the infirmary to check that she had got home ok really... He would make sure to see her before they left in the morning, after all... he was her hero... He grinned at the thought, and stripped off the remainder of his clothes, dropping them in a heap on the floor before stepping into the scalding water. He groaned aloud, and sank thankfully down into the welcome heat, laying back to close his eyes. ((Ooc: if Mari wants to come in with more hot water...  )) |
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Post by Pinkie on Jun 29, 2009 11:56:28 GMT
He was tired. Countless decades had passed since Haldir had felt tired but it hit him now. Sleep would not soothe this tiredness and he knew that intuitively. This tiredness was born out of something else entirely. The dark, black magic of Sauron was permeating into Middle Earth once more and he stood in it's path directly, stoically and until death. For that, surely, was the only outcome for him? All that he had lost until now lingered in the fore of his mind and he bowed his head at the window with a sickly smile on his lips. The moonlight was shimmering but bleak, cloudy banks of smoke from the battle rising ever upwards in whisps and bundles to obliterate even the hope of pure light. Oh for the Elf there was more at stake than the earth and blood of Middle Earth! The girl, Eledhwen, she worried and fretted and fought against such small, inconsequential things. Perhaps they meant alot to her but Haldir, weighted with the survival of his people and their eternal existence... he found it hard to sympathise. He could take her hissing swipes with a smile because she was so small, so tiny in the grand scheme of things and when one analysed it as patiently as only an Elf could, she did not know herself at all. Once she did come to know herself she would find she felt entirely different than she currently claimed. He could use his charm, the Elf knew that, to turn her mind quicker, to expediate the process but ... he was tired. There were more things in Middle Earth that claimed his energy and magic than a pretty little human girl. Unhooking the clasp at the very top of his pale tunic, Haldir tugged at the ethereal material lightly, loosening it about his dewy neck as he turned from the window towards the empty hearth. The room that Denethor had granted to him was beautiful and it had been beautiful upon receipt of it - but Haldir had added his own Elvish touch to the place so that it seemed to glow even in darkness. The four poster bed shimmered with the drapes that blew in the gentle breeze from the open window. The mirror reflected the image of a handsome young man, blonde hair held back from his face with an unseen clip and his features set in a solemn and serene expression. The grey of his tunic was unmarred from the battle, his Elvish armour taking all the hits and leaving him unharmed, untouched. Licking his fine lips, Haldir sat in the chair next to the empty hearth and rested his two strong hands on the arm rests. There was a tension in his fingers that a mere mortal might miss, lines about his mouth that others would not see but they were there, signs of the pressure that rested upon his broad shoulders. Tomorrow would go as he had always known it would. They would split up into teams and they would travel the breadth of Middle Earth to find the great rings of power so that they might destroy them and with them, destroy Sauron once and for all. Such a task could not be completed without Anduril, without Narsil and the man that would wield it. It would mean unlocking the portal to Valinor and seeking his kin only to turn away and leave them there once more - his mission could be completed by him only.... the seers had foreseen it, Elrond had foreseen it. Any deviation from this course would result in disaster, annhilation. For all. Strong, dark eyes looked over at the pale pink stone that decorated his mantle - as if it were nothing more than a trinket. The crystal would lead the way to Valinor and once there there would be truths exposed, hurts felt and hearts broken only to be remade. And he, Haldir, stood at the very centre of it all. |
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Post by Pinkie on Jun 29, 2009 12:26:01 GMT
Elendur was unused to these pressures. She was used to being waited on hand and foot and for a moment she knew a moment of utter rage that no one had come looking for her, no one had sought to ensure her comfort and well-being despite all that had befallen the city. Did no one care at all for her? The blonde felt that rage turn in her chest, it clenched the muscles around her heart so that her chest physically pained her and she lifted a shaky hand to press hard to the centre of her chest. The sleeve of the jacket that the other man had put on her hid her tiny, balled fist but there was no veil, no mask that could hide the anguish on her face. Her face was pale, a cold, dewy sheen on her forehead and her lips were tight. There was a haunted, hunted look to her pretty eyes. The woman gave a hitching sob as West asked after her well-being, tightening her jaw even further and keeping her face downcast, tears shimmering on her eyelids, disturbing her vision and making the flickering lights in the hall more hap-hazard and glaring. As soon as she blinked hte tears rolled down her dusty cheeks and she moved the hand from the centre of her chest to her face, using the sleeve of the jacket to wipe them away and in turn left a smudge of grimey dirt along her smooth skin instead. "My.." she began, her voice hoarse and sad. She paused and took a shuddering breath, lifting her pretty face and straightening her shivering shoulders to look West straight in the eye. Of course once she did all her strength and resolution to be strong vanished. In the face of his calm and accepting eyes, his understanding and his undeniable strength, Elendur felt weak once more, she felt small and weak and needy. "I hurt all over!" she whimpered, "How can you .. you! How can you be so calm after all that has happened here today? How can you be so so so ... " she spluttered, an attempt at anger that merely scratched the surface of disgruntled, her hands lifting and falling, the sleeves flapping comically as the woman heaved in a breath to calm herself. But it didnt calm her, it only gave more strength and gusto to her sobs. Her chest rose and fell heavily, the jut of bones about her neck and collarbones making her appear more fragile and genteel than before. "There was a dead man, a dead man outside my room! He bled .. everywhere and he was dead and the orcs! They were inside the keep! " she squeeked, her eyes rimmed wtih red as she stared imploringly at West, seeking some sort of comfort from him to explain all that had happened, and why. "And there is dirt on my dress and my hands feel sticky and I have no shoes.." her complaints trickled off into silence as she lowered her pretty face, twitching her bare toes which were filthy dirty from all that had gone on. In truth Elendur had seen the least amount of battle than anyone else at the keep but she was also the one that was sheltered the most from it all before. |
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Post by Pinkie on Jun 29, 2009 15:12:48 GMT
He breathed a laugh but it was a bitter thing. Thrace grinned at him as if in some conspiracy that only they knew about and ... well, in a sense that is how it was. An inside joke as such. Something that they had shared in the past come 'round again to bite them in the ass. She could remember way back when she had first met Mark, how she had thought of him as being so stiff and formal. He had been entirely not her type but he had persisted and he had made her see that she could love outside the realms of assholes and jerks she had fallen for up until then. He had been patient and persistent and she had come to relish the secret smiles he would flash at her, the patient way that he ... fuck but it sounded lame, but he had courted her. Well and proper. And now, years on, heartache behind them for the most part, she could look at him and see all that she wanted in a man btu know that it was nothing that she could ever keep. She would hurt and she would damage and she would lay waste to men like Mark because they let her in. He was better off without her. Molly was too but Thrace couldn't give up on her.... Mark raked a hand back through his hair and Thrace's hazel eyes looked at the sinewy way that the veins and tendons moved beneath his skin, her wants scratching at her from inside and begging for repletion. She let her gaze flicker up to his face and held her breath, gumming for a cigarette to calm her down. Damn - that kind of hurt! Thrace frowned when Mark asked his rhetorical question; 'what would be the point?'. It was silly to feel slighted by the dismissive phrasing of the question and even more ridiculous to then feel caged and under pressure when he whimsically declared that 'maybe one day...'. The blonde gave him a grim smile and bit the side of her lips as she ducked her head and stepped forward, her heavy boots thuddnig on the nice, carpetted floor. She slid her hands into her pockets to stop herself from touching Mark's face, from stroking her fingers along the hard line of his jaw and kissing his infinitely soft lips. She paused in front of him as she walked by, glancing out at him from behind a curtain of grubby blonde hair. "You and I both know that day has been and gone, babe." she said, sounding as if that fact didn't phase her in the least when it really did. She had loved him, and he had loved her and for a while they had been good together. That had lasted about ... oh about one day at least, she thought grimly and breathed a laugh through her nostrils. Rolling one shoulder, Thrace reached her hand out and patted Mark's side quickly, softly, in farewell, resisting the urge to allow her fingers to linger any longer on the solid warmth of his firm abdomen, and stuffed her hand abck into her pocket as she walked into the hall. It was as if a spell had broken but she was left dizzy... hungry. Glancing over her shoulder the blonde gave Mark a nod. "Night." Walking down the corridor, the woman tried to work herself up again to her earlier desire for Boromir but .... it just wasn't there anymore. Her encounter with Mark had left her wanting ... wanting, something more, someone more? Well, more at least.
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Post by Pinkie on Jun 29, 2009 15:39:20 GMT
She wasn't stupid - but Gypsy could be a bit ... flighty at times. She saluted Lake and gave a frown of confusion when his calloused fingers pulled her hand away from her forehead. She flexed her fingers and cleared her throat, glancing over at Boromir with a twitch of a smile. Her mousey brown hair was a little askew from fighting earlier and her skin felt grimey and dusty but she was uninjured thankfully. As a medic she had helped out where she could after the fight but things were quietening down now - people were heading to bed, or at the very least they were heading to quieter pastures to just sit and reflect. Gypsy wanted to seek out Mark, to see if he was alright that's all... no other reason for it at all. She just wanted to make sure that he hadn't been hurt and that things with Thrace had gone off alright too. Not that he wasn't able to look after himself or anything, but she ... worried. The airman was about ready for a shower and bed! Until she recalled, with a groan, that these people had baths, not showers. God but she would give anything for a shower! And Lake looked like he cuold use one too. There were smudges on his arms and neck that she wasn't entirely sure were not blood. Gypsy's mouth gaped open at the suggestion of him buying her a drink and she darted a look at Boromir who was looking curiously at the cigarette that Lake had lit up. The woman waved a hand in front of her nose to get rid of the smoke that swirled towards her and she gave Boromir a sheepish grin. Lake's 'suggestion' was as good as an order really, and Gypsy had little option but to follow. With a shrug of her shoulder she bounced over to stand beside Lake, thumping Boromir's shoulder gently, companionably, before thinking and winking at him. "G'night, Boromir. Sleep tight and don't let the bed bugs bite." she nattered then looked sideways at Lake, a little uncertain of being in his company but the only other option was to go against his suggested order. Walking down the corridor with him she frowned in mild confusion and turned to look at him quizically - "Ahm, I'm not sure we really have to .... buy.... drinks.... Sir. I think the servants just ... bring it to you... " she said uncertainly, going through all the reasons why Lake, Captain Nathan Lake, would choose her to have a drink with. Of all people. Surely he should be hanging around with West, or Kawalsky. Gypsy didnt know much about Lake, well besides the rumours of course, but she liked to give people the benefit of the doubt when it came to rumours. "Could be wrong of course - not like I've been off-world as much as you've been, eh? I've gotta say though - of all the places I have been to off-world this has got to be the most ... wow... ya know?" she chirped, picking up his quiet humour and becoming intent on filling the quiet gaps as she held her gun across her stomach, and looked up and around at the hallway they ambled down together. |
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Post by Pinkie on Jun 29, 2009 16:06:39 GMT
Mari was of serving stock. She was not noble and not rich - she was born to serve the stewards of Gondor and she did so without hesitation. It was her calling in life to serve and she relished the opportunity to prove herself to be someone. And so, as it happened when a healer did eventually give her a look over, it was deemed her wounds were superficial and she was good to go back to work once she had had a mug of some calming tea and a rest. So Mari found herself back in her servants role, in clean servant's clothing, walking down the corridor with a pitcher of hot water in her hand. Since they had released her and deemed her injuries to be nothing mroe serious than a bruise and scratch, the girl had applied herself busily to ensuring the comfort of DJ, her hero. As she thought of him a sweet smile lifted her young lips and a little color rose to her cheeks. She had gone back to her little home outside the keep and had found it was still standing though there was the dead body of an orc just inside the door. She had hurried away from that sight and found her father on the way. He had been fighting but was uninjured, he was surly and wanted a drink. Mari had told him of the dead orc and he had stalked off grumbling to right the mess 'when he got a chance'. So the servant girl had trudged back up to the city keep and begged clean clothing from the matron of the keep. A black dress with a square collar and the white tree of Gondor emblazoned on the stiff front that hugged her thin frame tightly. It had been the only uniform that had not scooped too low on the neck to be obscene... though it was a size too small for her it was better than the alternative. Mari went to DJ's room and found he was not there so she tidied up a little, lit a fire and had asked for a bath to be brought to the room for the stranger. The servants were all too willing to be of service to the newcomers having seen their prowess adn destruction during the battle. And so the servant carefully, considerately prepared the room for the man who she knew had saved her life. There was a scratch on the heel of her palm that was now bandaged and there was a large and dark bruise on her hips from the rough treatment of the troll but other than that she was no worse for wear since the battle at all. Humming to herself, the girl wandered slowly down the corridor with the last pitcher of scalding hot water and pushed open the door to DJ's room without thinking to knock. She had no idea where he had been nor when he would be back but she had been in and out of the room for the best part of the evening without seeing him so she assumed... wrong. Mari's dark brown eyes lifted and she looked across at the figure sitting in the bath-tub and she smiled in delight. It would take a while before she recalled some propriety... "DJ! You're back - I thought you would be gone a little while longer so I haven't brought any food yet. I have more hot water though." she said in a sing-song voice of sweetness and innocence, walking across the room towards the bath-tub, the jug held in both her hands before her. "I hope you don't mind me setting the fire alight and preparing the bed and your bath for you - I just ... I just wanted to find some way to thank you for oh my goodness!" she squeaked, propriety kicking in as she got to the bath and quickly turned, sloshing hot water over the side of the pitcher onto the floor, her cheeks reddening deeply and her eyes as big as saucers. "Oh I am sorry, I didn't think, I mean I knew you would have to be .... to be in the bath but I didn't actually think .. I'm sorry." she babbled, her stomach doing somersaults. |
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Post by Bogwoppit on Jun 30, 2009 21:14:38 GMT
West allowed her to let it all out, to get it off her chest, sympathy in his calm green eyes. She was a poor little rich girl - a classic example, just like all the little rich girls he knew back home who fluttered their eyelashes at him and primped and preened at the military events he was obliged to attend. But Elendur was not the same as those shallow young women who were only there to see if they could snare themselves a military officer, and if he was handsome as well as influential and rich then all the better... No, Elendur did not have the guile and cunning of those women. She may be spoiled, but she was uneducated in the ways of the world... sheltered, naive, almost child-like as her big blue eyes gazed up at him pleadingly. He took a step forward, automatically reaching out to enfold her slight, shaking figure in his strong arms, holding her head against his chest so that she could hear the steady, reassuring beat of his heart through the thin material of his T-shirt. "Hey c'mon now," he urged her, the words rumbling up from his chest softly and syrely. "It's gonna be ok, you're gonna be ok." He kept her there for a while in the hope that her ragged sobs would subside, then transfered one arm to rest around her shoulders, tucking her in beside him as he began to walk. His sure pace brooked no argument. "We can't have your father seeing you like this now, can we," he observed matter of factly. "Let's go see if anyone's left some hot water in my room, get you cleaned up a bit. It's right here." He stopped before one of the many thick oak doors in the gloomy hallway, and looked down at her once more before turning the handle. "Don't worry, you're quite safe," he grinned, turning on a glimpse of his easy, unassuming charm as he stepped back to allow her to pass. "I don't take advantage of damsels in distress." |
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Post by Bogwoppit on Jun 30, 2009 22:06:18 GMT
Lake smirked and looked back over his shoulder as he strode away, confident that the kid would follow him even if only because he was supposedly her superior. "Yeah, g'night Boromir" he repeated, his gravelly voice hardly masking the sarcasm. Boromir watched them go, angry at first at the rough ignorant pig of a man who seemed determined to interfere with his business at every turn. And then confused... dark brows arching upwards in the middle as he puzzled over Gypsy's parting words. "We don't... " he began, and then became disgruntled as he realised what she had said. "We don't have bugs in Gondor! Rohan... you... that little Rohan b... she hasn't brought bugs here has she...?" His voice trailed off, and he turned and stomped away, mulling over the idea of paying Eledhwen a visit to see if she had indeed brought any bugs here... Lake grinned, glancing down at Gypsy as she ran to catch up. "Whatever," Lake shrugged, beginning to wish he hadn't bothered rescuing her. Did she talk like that constantly? "Nah I was just getting you away from that prick. Bloke's a tosser, you wanna stay well away from him." He paused at the end of the corridor, looking this way and that trying to decide where his room was. Seeing a young servant girl approaching he stepped out in front of her. "Do us a favour darlin'" he said, working the seldom seen charm that had once oozed from every pore, but which had long disappeared only to re-emerge after a fight with the rush of adreniline. "Bring us some of that bloody fantastic ale you've got to my room will ya?" The girl curtsyed, struggling to understand his strange manner of speech, but getting the gist of it and hurrying away to comply with his request. Lake turned to Gypsy and grinned before striding off to the right. "What's your name anyway?" he asked abruptly. "Can't keep calling you airman!" They reached his room and he opened the door, going in first without a thought for manners. "Fuck I'm fucking knackered!" he exclaimed, and promptly collapsed backwards onto the wide bed, legs dangling over the end. |
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Post by Bogwoppit on Jul 1, 2009 9:19:49 GMT
A pleasant warmth stole over the whole of his weary body as soon as he slid back into the welcome heat of the water, and DJ closed his eyes, content. His mind wanted to think about the next day, and all the weird and wonderful things they were bound to encounter along their journey to seek these artifacts the Elf had spoken of, but he wouldn't let it. All he allowed himself to do for the moment was relax... and wish he had someone there to massage the aches from his muscles. His ribs hurt from where the troll had thrown him to the ground, and the bruise on his cheekbone had swollen his eye almost shut. The blood had dried on his temple in itchy streaks, and he reached up one hand to absently scratch at it, wincing as he caught a nail on the wound. He didn't hear the door open, so smoothly did the great old hinges move, but his soldier's senses knew that someone had entered the room and he blinked his eyes open worriedly. He wasn't shy, but neither did he feel particularly comfortable about being naked in the bath in company... not unless that company happened to be a beautiful woman. Before he could react in any way other than to sink a little lower, the young servant girl was across the room with her pitcher of hot water. A smile had instinctively spread across his face when he saw that she was alright, and now her blushes, rather than embarrassing him more, actually gave him confidence, his smile widening. "No, hey, Mari... it's ok..." he began, reaching out to grab her arm as she spun away. "Don't worry. I'm erm... it's nice to see you again... I'm glad to see you're alright... I suppose you must be for them to let you go back to work..." He stopped, aware that he was rambling on... and sat up in the bath a little, hunching over to hide himself from her to stop embarrassing her further. "Look, erm... yes, the bath is wonderful, thank you. And the fire too..." he continued, then laughed nervously, dropping his gaze from her wide, beautiful eyes to the water.
Yes, go on, ask her..."I don't suppose you'd scrub my back for me would you?" He sucked his top lip into his mouth as he glanced back up at her, a worried expression on his face in case she slapped him. But what the hell? It was a differrent planet, he was aching, he'd almost been killed by a troll, and tomorrow they were setting out into more danger. He was allowed to make a pass at a woman.. Westie did it all the time and he didn't get slapped. DJ was a decent enough looking guy... and he was Mari's hero after all... she was hardly going to tell him to get stuffed - she was too sweet... And too bloody young... |
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Post by Pinkie on Jul 1, 2009 23:12:40 GMT
Elendur melted into the man's embrace like a raindrop into dry earth. She clung to his brawny upper arm through her fingers did not even come close to encircling the thick limb and she let out heavy, shuddering breaths. Emotions ran rampant through her body and mind - at once rejecting and rejoicing in West's touch. She needed it badly, to be reminded of some sort of humanity in the world after all she had seen that day. But a part of her also remained aloof and unwilling to accept comfort from a man... especially one who, whilst probably very efficient and impressive as a warrior, was merely that... a warrior. And she the daughter of the Steward. The blonde allowed him to lead her down the corridor and she lifted the sleeve of DJ's jacket to her nose, wiping at the teardrops pooling there gently, sniffling sadly. Her shoulders shook with ragged emotion and she looked nothing, nothing like the smiling, flirtatious, whimsical beauty of the night before at the feast. She looked beautiful still, she could look nothing but! But she looked so infinitely young and fragile now, as if even a loud shout might shatter her altogether. Gone was her arrogant, sexy swagger, replaced with a slow and guided shuffle next to West. She accepted his advice on not letting her father see her like this - she did not want anyone to see her like this! And the charm worked it's magic. Elendur, initially, was horrified at the suggestion and turned a sharp look up at West, her mouth dropped open in astonishment that he would even think it! But when she saw his boyish grin, his dimpled cheeks and the glimmer in his smouldering eyes she could not help but grin in return. At first she tried not to, consciously, but she could not help it in the end and she breathed a small laugh, feigning a girlish blush as she dipped her head onto his shoulder and sniffled. "Oh stop." she purred without reproach, then stepped away from him, tottering into his room and turning in the centre of it to face him. The jacket did hang on her like a sack on a stick, the blue dress beneath was dusty and tattered looking and her feet were bare and grimey, but she still managed to look quite elegant and sultry despite it. Her eyes scanned his room and she nodded, satisfied that he had been given a good room, a decent room, as befit his station as leader of his people here in Middle Earth. The blonde bit the edge of her lip sweetly, never realising how attractive it made her appear, how alluring she became with that sweet gesture, and she glanced down at the shoulder of the jacket, waiting for Joe to come over to take it off her shoulders for her. "Do you know, I am fairly certain I could sleep soundly right now if I were not certain sure that I would have horrid dreams of all that I have seen today." she commented with a flutter of her eyelashes at Joe, "How do you do it, Joe West? How do you still manage to smile after all ... ?" she trailed off, her eyebrows lifting sweetly and her gaze seeking to understand the handsoem young man. There was a certain, natural, flirtatious purr to her voice that Elendur did not employ deliberately - it was just so natural for her to be like that in front of attractive men. |
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Post by Pinkie on Jul 3, 2009 21:41:03 GMT
Gypsy looked back at Boromir who was making about her comment on bedbugs... at least that is what she thought was going on. As she looked back around at him she flashed him a dazzlingly bright smile and waved her little fingers at him before turning her attnetion back to Nathan Lake. She was really not sure how to take the Captain at all and she found herself a little.... well, nervous. Ah of course she had heard the rumours about him but Gypsy was old-fashioned... she didn't like to believe rumours, she liked to give everyone a chance. And so far Nathan Lake seemed to be an alright kind of man. Gypsy had watched enough British sitcoms to be able to understand Lake and his lingo. She fuond herself giving a chuckle of merriment at the man's opinion of Boromir though she genuinely didn't share it. She didn't feel the need to defend Boromir - he was not a stranger, per se, but nor was he a great friend of hers. And besides, she didn't think that Lake really thought that way about the tall, fair haired male. Why would he? No reason at all .... They stopped and teh young airman almost walked into the man's back, staggering to a halt and giving a childish grin, ducking her head, when he tsopped a servant and asked her to bring him some ale. Dark eyes lifted and she watcehd the servant scurrying away to the bidding of this strange man. Gypsy shook her head in amazement and then quickly hurried after Lake. How did he manage to adapt so quickly? How did he know that he could order a servant to bring him ale just like that? The woman was hardly shy! But she did find herself feeling awkward off-world, she found it hard to adapt to their way of doing things. They got to his room and he walked in, flopping out on the bed. Gypsy pursed her lips and lingered by the doorframe, hands behind her back, clasped, and her feet spread. She was standing at ease at his door, looking over at him with amusement sparkling in her dark eyes. But for some reasno, when he asked her name, the woman blushed. She was not ashamed of her name but she had a wavering feeling that soemone like Nathan Lake would find her name ... silly. That he might tease her about it. So she cleared her throat and scuffed the toe of her boot into the threshold of the door where she still stood. "Ah - Calvin, Sir." she said, looking over at him with a deeply furrowed brow. She tensed her jaw and gave him a sickly smile. "Gypsy Calvin. My ahm... my parents travelled alot with me when I was a baby. Guess they thought it'd be funny or something." she excused her unusual name with a shrug of one slender shoulder. And then, effecting to change the subject to something that was less personal, Gypsy smiled brightly and waved a finger towards Lake lightly, remaining in her posture of 'at ease' in teh doorway even though he was unceremoniously slumped out on his bed before her. "I've never been to England though! I really aught to - I love tea!" she laughed cheerily. ((ooc : hmmmm! When shall I have Thrace saunter on by?  )) |
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Post by Bogwoppit on Jul 3, 2009 21:57:53 GMT
((Ooc: Whenever you wish mine deario!  )) |
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Post by Pinkie on Jul 3, 2009 22:24:18 GMT
Thrace walked back to her room in a daze. Her skin felt like it was too tight over her bones, her eyes felt too wide, too intense and every muscle in her body was rigid. Desire was one thing, passion quite another. Boromir was one thing, Mark quite another! Mark's past with her meant he had a hold, a way to her heart. She looked at him and could remember what it felt to lay in his arms in teh early hours of the morning laughing and teasing and kissing. She felt the warmth of his breath against her skin and recalled every caress, every kiss - the nights when he lay never to her, his gentle fingers upon her swollen stomach and spoke with such soft and tender love to the child that had developed so beautifully. Their little girl.. The blonde growled, frustrated, angry, upset. She kicked open the door to her room and looked around at the stark appearance of the place, the primitive items that decorated the shelves and the unreal view out the window. She raked a hand back through her short blonde hair and held her fingers tight against the tendrils, her elbows meeting together in front of her face as she paced to the window and whirle around the sit on teh sill, looking threateningly at the door. She had been right to leave Mark, of course. But the little time they had been together had set her mind spinning. Her heart was racing and her chest was tight with heavy, shallow breaths. "Fuck!" she muttered under her breath. She looked at the fire which someone had kindly lit and banked. There was a simmering pot and a basin of cold water by the hearth too. Thrace cocked an eyebrow. Primitive... But she took advantage of it. She washed her face and neck and as far down her back as she could get. She scrubbed at her hands to get teh manky orc blood off of them and then looked at her relfection in a battered looking mirror over the mantle, sucking in her stomach and turning to the side to see the large and purpling bruise which had nothing to do with the fight with the orcs. Lake. Nathan fucking Lake. Irritated, Thrace dunked her head in the water and sloshed her wet blonde hair back off her face, towel drying it as best she could before pulling back on her torn t-shirt and dirty jacket. It must have been an hour by now... time to visit Boromir. The blonde turned on her heel and walked with a sway of her hips down the corridor towards Boromir's rooms but she was not focussed at all, not half as intent on him as she had been only an hour before. Mark had happened in the meantime and spending the night, be it in clothed or not, with Boromir just didn't hold the appeal that it had. Thrace wanted something else, something familiar, something she could sink her nails into and God... something that she could hold onto! The Lieutenant stopped halfway down the corridor and turned, stalking with focussed and quick footfalls now. She had a glimmer in her hazel eyes and a healthy color to her cheeks as she rounded a corner and stood at Lake's door - behind Gypsy Calvin. Thrace tapped the kid on teh shoulder and jutted her thumb behind her. "Get outta here, Calvin." she ordered her, hungry, dark, threatening eyes looking across the room to Lake who was laying sprawled on the bed. Thrace's jaw tensed and she flexed her fingers, not looking away from Lake even as Calvin hesitated. "Now - get, go, gone." she snapped, stepping out in front of Calvin and glaring blue murder at Lake. Was this what he was up to for the night then? He'd planned on fucking the fucking kid? The flighty air-headed Gypsy Calvin? Thrace refused to think of Mark at all, her focus all on Lake. |
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Post by Bogwoppit on Jul 6, 2009 12:03:26 GMT
For a moment there West thought even all she had been through hadn't had an effect on Elendur's illusion of superiority, but then she smiled, and almost, he was sure, gave a small flirtatious laugh as she sank her head into his shoulder. He liked the feeling of her against him... she felt so delicate, like precious china. Perhaps illusion wasn't the right word... maybe in America she would soon get taken down to earth with a bump and have to start living in the real world, but here they really did seem to have old fashioned values, arisocracy and serfs, so perhaps Elendur wasn't living in a dream world so much as living up to her reputation, in the manner to which she was accustomed. It was no different after all than a couple hundred years ago on Earth, when Ladies were waited on for eveything. Watching her as she walked across the room and turned, DJ's jacket hanging off her, West thought she looked like a little girl dressed up in a costume way too big for her. He wanted to protect her, but he was as always well aware of the potential dangers of becoming too involved with people from off-world. Things rarely worked out, and there was always the very real possibilty of making another enemy out of it, something the SGC could well do without. She obviously expected him to follow her into the room though, and he did, walking towards her as she bit her lip and glanced down at herself. She was certainly beautiful, even now under the layers of filth, her feet bare and her hair mussed up, she still had the regal bearing of one who expected the best, and no doubt generally got it. But after today she had allowed him a glimpse of the girl beneath the veneer, and Joe found himself liking the person as well as admiring the beautiful, untouchable woman. He stepped slowly around behind her and slipped the filthy jacket from her narrow shoulders, fingertips brushing against the soft bare skin on her collar bones as he did so. For an instant he paused, watching goose bumps rise on the flesh of her neck, and fought the sudden urge to lean down and kiss her there. Instead he took DJ's jacket and tossed it onto a hard-backed chair, for the first time noticing the steaming bath of hot water set before the fire. "Training," he replied shortly, but with a smile, as he moved to slide his own jacket off, throwing it on top of DJ's. "We see this sort of thing every day. You can't let it get to you or you'd never make it through." Maybe not Orcs... they didn't see Orcs every day... but she didn't need to know that. He looked her up and down slowly, perhaps seemming to peruse her body, but in reality checking for injury with a professional soldier's eye. His green gaze fixed on hers with a twinkle, realizing that she needed normalcy, as far as he could provide it, and something to take her mind off the horror she had seen. "You wanna wash your face... and maybe your feet?" he asked, resisting the temptation to ask her if she minded him getting in the tub. He could imagine that might be stretching diplomatic relations a little too far right now. |
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Post by Bogwoppit on Jul 8, 2009 9:56:07 GMT
That hurt. Even though he had already more or less told her the same thing, it still hurt to have it confirmed. Mark hated himself every time he allowed himself to get drawn into this game. He was tough, he had his own high walls set in place, especially where she was concerned, but still, on the rare occasions they didn't fight, those walls seemed to show chinks he didn't know they had. And every time it damn well hurt. His flesh contracted where she placed her hand, all too briefly in passing. He should not allow it still to affect him this way, her touch. He should pull away. He should avoid all contact with her. But always that bigger part of him won - the caring fool who made too many allowances for her past, her hang-ups. Still as a statue, insubstantial as a ghost, he watched her walk away from him yet again, and it was a long time before he moved off towards his own room, shoulders slumped in defeat and feeling his age not for the first time, nor probably the last, where Katee was concerned. He closed his door behind him and leaned back on his hands against it, raising his eyes to the ceiling and slowly breathing in and out. In through his nose, out through his mouth, in through his nose, out through his mouth, twice, three times, four... Then he bowed his head and stepped forward, reaching up a hand to rub the aches from the back of his neck. He was bone tired. The hot bath before the roaring log fire beckoned, and he carefully peeled off layers of filthy clothes as though moving through treacle, leaving them where they fell, before sinking thankfully into the tub and closing his eyes. He allowed... he forced... his mind to go blank, and drifted away into a light doze as he lay there, head resting against the fire-warmed metal edge. |
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