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Post by Bogwoppit on Oct 25, 2009 20:26:42 GMT
West walked into the great hall and stopped, surprised to see so many people there already. He needed to find his people and brief them, and he needed to find Boromir, Faramir and the Elf. He smiled briefly to himself as he paused. Elf... amazing how quickly you started to take weird things for granted when you went off-world. He was beginning to see this mission as more than just a means to get home. A man couldn't stand beside another in battle without believing in what they were fighting for, and this world and its people seemed worth the fight. He allowed his mind to linger for a moment on Elendur, the Steward's daughter, and he smiled at the thought of the way he had left her last night. That she had been confused by his actions wasn't in any doubt. He would bet his next month's pay that no man had ever passed up the opportunity to have her touch him before. It had been harder than he cared to admit to take her back to her rooms, but he was glad he'd done it. He had the feeling that she wouldn't be quite so easy to forget as some of the other girls he had... helped out on away missions. Moving through the hall he caught sight of Llewelyn, DJ and Calvin sitting at a table, but couldn't see anyone else he knew. He glanced at his watch - 0545. Fifteen minutes until he had called the briefing. He wanted to set off before the sun was up too high. "Morning," he nodded at his people, sitting opposite Llewelyn and looking round for a serving wench. "DJ, you seen Thrace or Kawalsky?" He knew not expect Lake until the last possible second, but Kawalsky was generally eager to get going, and Thrace would always be there on time just to piss Lake off. He wanted to see Haldir too, to make sure they had gotten everything planned down to the last possible detail. The enigmatic creature seemed to be the one ultimately in charge around here, and it was obvious everyone looked to him for guidance, even Boromir. He was still a little concerned about the amount they had to do just to find a way to get home, but he understood that to get the gate crystal back the only way was to defeat this Sauron guy. Could he be any worse that a Goa'uld? Whatever, they had been through worse together West was sure. |
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Post by Bogwoppit on Oct 26, 2009 22:00:54 GMT
Lake smirked. Pity they hated each other's guts really... otherwise they might be mates. They shared the same who-gives-a-fuck attitude and dark sense of humour. But... something had changed between them. No doubt she would do something again before long to piss him off, but now, right here right now in this room, they were... ok. Course, it helped that she was fucking fantastic in bed... he still ached from his exertions, and a repeat of last night was about as likely to happen as Lake giving up drinking, so yeah... it wouldn't last. He'd be willing to bet that by lunch time they'd be at each other's throats again, and not in a good way. He grinned, putting his cigerette down on the very edge of the bedside table while he tugged on his trousers. "Fuck off..." he muttered as she crossed the room towards him. His hands were beginning to shake - a sure sign that he needed a drink. But he wasn't about to let her see him take a swig from the secret stash he kept in a hip flask in his jacket pocket. The kiss took him by surprise. In fact, everything about this was surprising... from the minute she had walked in last night til now... Lake was still a bit nonplussed by the whole thing. Not that he was complaining. As long as the kiss didn't mean she was expecting them to be, like... together or anything. "Yeah, whatever," he grated, watching her leave as he reached for his t-shirt. The minute she was out the door Lake was reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulling out the flask, fumbling with the lid with shaking fingers and almost dropping the thing before he managed to take a long, refreshing gulp of whisky. Better. He took another, slower sip, and wiped his hand across his mouth, doing the flask back up and putting it away. Then he put the jacket on and followed Thrace out into the corridor. |
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Post by Bogwoppit on Oct 28, 2009 12:05:22 GMT
((Ooc: Yes he is  And I can SO tell you have a thing for Haldir now... even if you do imagine him with dark hair!  )) She was feeling quite pleased with herself. Succeeding in angering him was satisfying enough in itself - she had not missed the brief flare of rage in his stormy eyes at her reference to Elves - but to also have convinced him of her dedication to this mission, which she was sure her little speech had done... Well, perhaps she was growing up at last, able to talk her way around problems rather than automatically reaching for her knife. Although the temptation was still strong to flick out the blade and gut him like the beast he was... So intent was she on his eyes, hypnotized by the colours that swirled in their unfathomable depths, that at first she did not hear his words. So still did he remain as he spoke, without emotion nor expression, that his denial did not register on a conscious level until she found herself gripping the handle of her knife and sliding it from its hiding place. "How DARE you!" she screamed, taking one step backwards before launching herself against him - a raindrop against the strength of a great sea. She flew at him, raking at his frustratingly ethereal face, while her other hand stabbed her blade towards the velvety softness of the tunic he wore with such grace. So quickly did she move that even as she flew her conscious mind was only just registering his refusal, and she found an impotent rage drown any coherent thought. She had not grown up, she could not settle a thing so vital to her with mere words. She was a woman of action, of violence and temper, a storm trying to sway the impenetrable stillness of a mountain. "You insufferable bastard!" she raged, feeling her short nails rake down the smooth cheek, and a tiny part of her mind registered surprise to feel stubble beneath her fingertips. Did Elves have facial hair? Were they not above such demeaning human traits? The feel of his cool skin stilled her for an interminable moment, the almost familiar shock of his touch making her jump visibly. Her fingers tangled in the long tresses of his silvery hair, and for one confusing, surreal second time seemed to slow as she fought the urge to run her fingers through that hair, and to touch that cool cheek in desire rather than anger... |
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Post by Pinkie on Feb 7, 2010 22:24:03 GMT
This was exactly why his father favoured Boromir over his scholarly son, Faramir. As the auburn haired male entered his brothers room his blue eyes had to adjust to the dimmer light inside, his brother's broad form silhouetted against the window frame. He turned and held his hands behind his back, looking the perfect image of military command and authority. Any man would be a fool not to be inspired by Boromir - any man would be a fool not to want to impress him and be the best man that he could be in order to emulate the greatness that was Denethor's oldest son. Even Faramir stood before his brother this morning and felt ... less than a man, or at least he felt like he could be more of a man than he was. He paused just inside the room and turned, sighing uot a breath as he turned to close the door and then looked at his older, nobler, stronger brother. Yes, he was feeling anxious about this and it didn't help that Boromir sounded a little terse. It wasa big day for both of them - for every Gondorian in fact. Faramir's eyebrows twitched inwards and he looked down at the ground, clutching his fingers into the palm of his hand as he tried to think of some other way of starting this conversation than to say he had come to Boromir to be reassured. He parted his lips and looked over at Boromir, his hand lifted and he sighed outwards, hard and agonised. "I know. I know - that is why I came here. Boromir... what he is asking... " Faramir said, the words carefully put but sounding rushed nonetheless. Faramir, young and yet strong still, looked uncertain, his mouth remaining open as he looked imploringly at his older brother. "I do not question the validity of it but placing all our hope in these foreign soldiers? Seeking the sword? Boromir, we fought Sauron before, we fought the onslaught of his armies and we barely survived it then. That was when there was thousands of us readied, we had an army of elves ready to help us, we had ... " he stopped his tirade and took a deep breath, lifting both hands and rubbing them down his face as he turned about-face and flopped down bonelessly into a chair, groaning. "There are too many lives at stake to pin all our hopes on these 6 strangers." he summarised, leaning forward, elbows on his knees and looking up at his older brother, pleading for understanding but knowing, deep inside. |
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