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Post by american09mutt on Feb 26, 2010 23:44:46 GMT -5
Standing by the bed of his idiotic vassal, and watching a physician open the man’s eyelids to check for a concussion, is a less than appealing thing to do. But as King and as a man, it is something that must be done to show his people his concern for their wellbeing. And hearing the door to the infirmary open once more to admit people, is highly unexpected.
Pulling back the curtain enclosing the bed, he makes ready to command whomever it is to leave. But lying on a stretcher is a pale figure with glossy brown hair, looking moderately absurd around her pale drawn face. The eyes are closed now, and one of her hands is clasped in that of the man walking beside the stretcher. His worried eyes and slumped shoulders stop Ryan in his tracks. Her armor and weapons have been removed, but apparently Neil didn’t bother to remove his own armor when he followed them up from the fighting field.
But why is Captain Mutt laid out on a stretcher, pale as milk and out cold? Determined to find out, Ryan makes his way to the bed where they place her. “What happened Neil?” He says it soft and calm, with concern but not a trace of dislike for the man. Such a dislike is petty in a moment where the woman they both care about is lying unconscious beside them. Ryan pulls a chair over and gently urges Neil to sit down. After a few seconds, Neil collapses in the chair, and looks up at Ryan with haunted eyes.
“She… she just fell. The moment you were out of sight, her eyes rolled back in her head and she fell to the ground. I tried…” a pause as his voice cracks unevenly. Ryan’s hand finds its way to the man’s shoulder, giving what comfort he can to a man he doesn’t care for. “I tried to make her wake up, but she was just gone. She isn’t dead, just… Not there.” Neil’s breathing is hitched, as if he is on the verge of tears. Knowing that he would not want the King to see it, Ryan backs away and closes the curtain around the Captain’s bed, leaving Neil to sob in quiet privacy.
Before he leaves, Ryan stops by the physician and asks to be notified of both patients’ conditions at regular intervals. He then marches off in search of his closest friend, Craig. Surely he will know what to do, being the type of man who makes friends and finds love easily. Because right now what the King needs more than anything is to talk. To figure out his feelings, and to find a way to rid himself of pain, or to get what he wants. Shaking his head slightly, Ryan clarifies his thoughts. “I must find a way to gain her. To court her. Perhaps if I can, to tame her. I must do what no man has yet been able to do. I must find a way to turn back the sea itself when it beckons her, to tame the fiery spirit within…”
Stopping at a window that overlooks the Cliffside, he stares out at the water and mutters. “But what to do about the musician? They are in love. And yet even he can see that he is not enough for her. Even now her heart cries out to be free. Free of him. Free of these walls, this palace, this land.” A soft sigh escapes his lips. “I have to find a way to tame her, I cannot go on this way in the dark turmoil of my own heart. She will have to be convinced to love me, or I risk losing my only chance at life.” A determined smile rests on his face, and he strolls off along the corridor, making plans for the future.
For three days the Captain lies in her bed, unwaking and unresponsive. Her beloved Neil sits by her side, only leaving to sleep in another bed for a few uncomfortable hours before returning to her. The physician’s diagnosis is overexertion, and that she will wake when her body has had time to rest sufficiently. To Neil, it is the longest three days since she first woke in her prison room so many weeks ago. Deep inside he knows she will wake, and sit up, and embrace him again. But it does not help to still his fear that she will lay there and slowly fade away.
On the second day, a note arrives from the King, asking after her. Neil’s reply is short and untidy; simply that there is no change. The King’s cousin visits once on the morning of the third day, smiling and gently squeezing his hand in comfort. But she too must leave, and he is left with Mutt’s still form for many long restless hours.
Not long after dark on the third day, her breathing changes slightly. Mutt’s eyelids flutter open, and she glances around wildly. “Shh.” Neil whispers. “Be still now, it’s alright. There’s nothing to fear.” His words calm her, and she smiles up at him, comforted by such familiar circumstances. Her voice is shaky, but she manages to speak softly to him. “This is how I awoke last time, remember? To see you looking down at me. I think I might like that from now on.”
The sparkle in her eye is unmistakable, and Neil’s blush isn’t hidden by the moonlight. A roughness enters his voice, one she’s never heard there before. “You just get better now. We can talk about that later, can’t we?” Confused, Mutt tries to sit up and look into his eyes. With a hiss of pain she stops suddenly, frozen in place. Neil moves to take her weight on his shoulders. “What is it? Are you hurt?!” he exclaims.
“I’m… I’m fine” she hisses out between clenched teeth. “Every muscle in my body is as stiff as a board. What I need is a bath. And some food.” A rustle behind Neil startles him, almost making him drop the Captain. Her responding hiss of pain breaks through his surprise and reminds him of his duty. But it doesn’t stop his head from creaking around to see the physician standing behind him.
“She is correct. That is the best thing for her right now, Master Neil. The woman has a good head on her shoulders. Shall I summon someone to get a bath ready in her rooms? I think she would sleep best in her own bed tonight.” the physician says with a polite smile. Neil allows him to call servants, and helps the Captain to sit up while the physician instructs them. “Will you need assistance in returning her to her chambers, sir?”
The question is polite, but Neil glares at the man as if it were a direct blow to his pride. “No I’ll manage on my own. Thank you.” he says gruffly, swinging her up into his arms. Being not much taller than her, and not carrying as much muscle as a fighter would, Neil struggles to bring her all the way there. But he does so without complaint, and without assistance. She snuggles her face into his shirt, casually observing their trek to her rooms. Normally such treatment would outrage the feisty woman, but with her body as weak as a kitten she doesn’t protest.
As the door to her bedroom opens, pleasant misty warmth trickles out into the hallway. Body servants are waiting within, a steaming bath waiting by the large hearth. Suddenly embarrassed, Neil settles her on her bed, and makes as if to flee the room. A soft voice stops him, and he turns back to face Mutt. “Will you come back after?” she asks, her voice quiet and her eyes childishly pleading. He nods, and her tired smile wrenches at his heart. But flee he must, because propriety wins out over his love for her any day, and her bath takes precedence over being by her side.
Remembering her request for food, Neil makes his way down to the kitchens and piles two plates high with goodies. Things that are easy to chew, tasty, and have lots of nutrients in them. Eating a few plates-worth of food himself, he sits alone at a table, worrying. His mind travels down the paths it has trod for the past few days, considering the events that put his love in a cold antiseptic room and made her unresponsive.
Obviously her tragic break had been caused by the fight, and her memory spliced itself into her waking sight. But will other such events remind her of her past? From their long talks in the gardens during their long captivity, he knows that she cannot remember most of her life. It is a jumble of blurry landscapes and half-wild dreams. The only solid things she has fixed on are the faces of people, which seem to remind her of who they are. Occasionally the smell of a certain flower would bring back a childhood memory, like walking through a field holding hands with her father.
One such memory she had shared with him was after a frightening response to the smell of a broken cedar branch. “I recall being chased through the woods by hounds. I was walking through the woods when I came upon a man being beaten. The man beating him sent his hounds after me.” She had told him in a rush, her eyes drifting far away on the seas of time. “I fell and a branch of cedar snapped under me, a piece of it cutting my arm.” He understood her sudden reaction as she had recalled the pain and fear.
Another memory was told to him in hushed tones, late one night as they sat by a dying fire. He remembered it well. How he had stroked her hair with his hand, and she told him how the smell of sandalwood would forever remind her of her mother. “She would bath with the soap. Her skin always smelled of it. And her hair smelled like, like wool.” But Mutt’s hair always smells like apples, or salt. And her skin smells like rain. Neil smiles as he recalls her smiling up at him, and a thought strikes him suddenly.
He finishes his food eagerly, and brings the plates he had set aside with him back to her rooms. Even if he can’t begin to help with her memory, he knows the perfect way to comfort her right now. What she needs is good food and a night of rest in a soft bed. And before she gets the rest, he has a plan to help relax her.
Outside her door her stops, realizing he has no way to knock. Balancing on one foot he hits the door with his boot, and the booming thump is enough to get attention. The door opens for him, and a servant admits him in with a smile at the plates of food he carries. She takes one and he keeps the other, settling both on a long level table by the fire. Mutt is dressed in a soft linen shift, a dark green robe tied tightly over it, her bare feet sitting on the thick carpet. Another servant is kneading the Captain’s back with her fists, and small happy groans are escaping Mutt’s lips.
Shifting his feet awkwardly, Neil clears his throat. The servants get the message that it is time for them to leave. They drag the tub out between them, the water still hot enough for several people to bath in. Left alone in the room with her, Neil begins to blush once more. Mutt starts to eat, chewing with gusto and her eyes smiling at him. The sight of her hair falling down her back in roughly cleaned tangles sends a pang to his heart.
Grabbing a brush from the table, Neil moves up behind her, holding it out for her to see. A happy look in her eyes tells him to go ahead, so he begins to rake it through her hair, holding it to work out the tangles. Her soft sigh lets him know that he isn’t hurting her. His shoulders lose their nervous tension, and he runs the brush through thick curls, gently removing the knots from the brown locks.
With the last few strokes coming through unhindered, he lets his hand fall to his side. The fingers of his other hand slide through her hair involuntarily. She leans her head back to sit in his palm, the soft look in her eyes turning his heart over in his chest. “Thank you.” she whispers sleepily. “That felt wonderful.” His returning smile is adoring, and he can’t help what comes next. Without thinking, he leans down and kisses her collarbone, just where it sits exposed. She grins at him, obviously enjoying the gesture.
But her grin is interrupted by a large yawn, and she looks dismayed at her own exhaustion. Sliding his arm gently under her legs and behind her back, Neil carries her over to the big bed against the far wall. “Sleep well my love.” he murmurs as he tucks her in under the covers. He then kisses her lips carefully and quietly exits the room, knowing she would be asleep before the wooden door even swung closed.
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Post by american09mutt on Mar 29, 2010 22:46:57 GMT -5
Lavender scented pillows cradling her head and soft linens beneath her, Mutt awakes and cannot remember where she is. The world doesn’t creak and rock back and forth like it should, and it’s far lighter than it should be. Opening her eyes, she finds herself enclosed by the canopy and curtains of a fine bed. The beautiful light green linen hangs all about her like a wall of cloth, muffling sounds. They begin fluttering slightly with a breeze as a door opens somewhere beyond the green veil. She can still recall what she was dreaming seconds before, and when she remembers where she is, soft tears roll down her cheeks.
“I want to be back on my ship again.” She sighs sadly. This place is beautiful, but nothing could compare to life on the sea. Placing her head in her hands, she tries to hold on to her dreams as long as possible. The sea wind whipping her braided hair back behind her, the spray licking up over the bow to collect on her face. Rigging creaking and rubbing overhead, the drumming of feet on the hard decking as her crew run to stations and haul on the lines. A great black cloud sitting on the horizon in front of them, menacing and glorious.
But the lines of her memory grow fuzzy and the dream slips away through her fingers, and the Captain can’t sit in bed all day wishing. No matter how much she wants to, she has responsibilities elsewhere. Today is the day she brings all of her crew to the list field to get them back into fighting shape. No repeats of her mental breakdown, no time for such as that. Mutt feels the sea calling, and knows that her people need to be hale before she can leave. Or even convince the King to return her ship to her.
There’s no certainty that the King even has The Dark Lady, but Mutt doubts he would leave it in the care of the Lady Eleanor. Even if he hasn’t seen it personally, he must be the one who possesses it now. And Mutt needs to get it back, and escape to her true love. The sea waits for no man, and only waits a short time for Captain Mutt.
Brushing the curtains aside, Mutt climbs out of bed and fixes her nightgown where it had twisted about her in her sleep. She runs a brush through her hair, carefully teasing out the curls and twirling it up into a bun. Before securing it however, Mutt glances at herself in the mirror and stops. The figure in front of her is dark of hair and eyes, her skin weathered and tan, but the face still young and comely. Appearing older than she truly is, but that’s to be expected; as much as the calluses on her palms.
Rubbing her fingers together, Mutt stares at her hands. Softened by the easy life of late, but roughened and calling for the feel of ropes and wood and the hilt of her sword. Two of those things are beyond her reach, but one of them is easily fixed. She will return to the fighting field tomorrow, along with her crew, and they will ready themselves to leave. Even if it took months, at least working toward a departure is enough to cool the longing in her heart. For now.
The Captain pulls on a dress of smooth grey linen. It hugs tight to her arms and stomach, but after clinging to her waist it falls in a cascade down to mid-calf. Far too short for a Lady to wear, but comfortable and practical enough for a ship’s Captain to wear on a walk outside. For that’s where Mutt plans to go, out into the woods to take it all in. At least the freedom of being outdoors should help quench this insatiable need to leave.
Black leather sandals provide very little protection, but for a woman with the grace of a cat and the strength of a leopardess they are enough. Mutt makes her way through the halls of the hulking stone palace, feeling stifled by the walls on either side. Nearly running out the doors into the gardens, she passes by a very startled young woman in dark clothing who stares as she runs by. “Captain? Where are you going?!” she exclaims in surprise. Slowing to a stop and spinning on her heels, Mutt looks the girl up and down, her eyes widening. “Marie?” she says softly, almost in wonder.
Queen Mindy’s ward is clothed from head to toe in dappled dark garments, obviously meant to conceal the wearer. Her hair tucked tightly beneath a cap of darkened wool, scuffed dark boots on her feet. Mutt’s left eyebrow slowly rises, and she has to suppress a grin. “Where were YOU going, little missy?” she says reprovingly. “Such clothing belongs on a burglar, not a young lady.” Marie lowers her head in shame and prepares herself for a scolding, but is surprised by a pleasant burbling chuckle that comes instead.
“Come on then child, why don’t you join me for a walk in the forest. We have much to discuss after all. I have a few prospects for you, and want to run them by you before you meet with the lads.” Looking only moderately relieved, Marie falls into step beside the Captain and they make their way out of the gardens and toward the northern palace gate. Removing her hat, she shakes out her long brown hair and runs her fingers through it to remove a few of the tangles.
The portcullis is raised on this fine day, the hills to the north of the palace rolling off into the distance. Two guards sit at rest nearby, and wave to the two as they leave. One appears to be gazing curiously at Marie and grins politely at her, then gets up to shake hands with Mutt. “It’s good to see you again Captain. I was hoping to run into you soon!” Richard’s smile is wide and his tone pleasantly warm. “Good to see you on your feet again. We were worried for you, the lot of us. Weren’t we Craig?” his last words addressed the other man sitting nearby.
“That we were! Very concerned after you beat the heck out of that pompous upstart on the list field.” He said with an amused tone, smirking and standing up slowly. Craig then excuses himself, as their replacements have arrived and he needs to attend to some business at the palace aviary. With the two women all to himself, Richard makes light conversation and riddles it with compliments. Marie’s eyes are wide but she’s staying quite silent. Uncharacteristic of her, to say the least. Richard’s eyes swing her way and his grin turns to a look of barely concealed interest. “And who might you be young lady. I know all the women at court, and I’m certain I’ve not seen you around before.”
Her blush is enough to goad him on more, so he continues. “Where have they been hiding a little lovely like yourself?” he murmurs, taking her hand and kissing it. “M-my name is Marie. I’m the royal ward of Queen Mindy of Noxville.” She starts out uncertainly, but finishes with a toss of her head and a look of disdain. “Very pleased to meet you Lady Marie. I am Sir Richard Arman, but you may call me Richard if you please.”
“It’s nice to meet you then.” She says, her eyes beginning to sparkle. “But may I ask you something?” she asks hesitating just slightly. Mutt is watching, and nearly gags at the unsubtle flirting going on in front of her eyes. “Anything for such a lovely young lady.” He says, his grin widening and his blue eyes shining from the glee of the ritual dancing of words and looks. “Could I call you Richie? I’ve never known someone named Richard, but I’ve always wanted to meet one so I could call him Richie.” She asks this with a pleading look on her face, eyes wide and innocent.
It’s obvious that the boyish nickname seems silly to him, but ever the romantic, Richard quickly decides that he must like it if he wishes to continue this dance of flirtation with the young Lady. “A fine name indeed. I would be honored to hear it falling from your petal lips.” His words oozing sweetness like a tree bleeding sap. Sick of the byplay, Mutt suggests that ‘Richie’ show Marie around the palace gardens. Richard was, after all, one of the men she had in mind to introduce to the young ward. What better time than now?
The young woman and the knight head off toward the open gardens and fields of the eastern courtyards, the side facing farthest from the sea. Alone once more, the Captain makes her way out through the gates, nodding to the replacement guards and then walking along the packed dirt road. Finding a good place where the grass is short, she leaves the road and traipses off along a cut path toward the woods. Giant brown tree trunks grow closer and closer, the bark taking on form and shade as she approaches. Before she can get within 20 yards however, she spots someone bobbing and weaving through the trees at a very fast speed.
The shape of what looks to be a man, running through the trees in pursuit of a very large hound. A hunting dog if she’s not mistaken, and the finest she’s ever seen. It’s large barrel-chested body rippling with muscle and the long legs working like pistons. Huge paws digging into the leaves and moss of the forest floor and propelling the beast forward at an alarming rate. The man running behind it barefoot and wearing only a pair of loose short pants, almost keeping up with the animal, but not quite.
As they get closer the man loses ground, and the hound bursts clear of the trees at a full run, galloping across the open field. Now clearly visible, the animal is not just big, but massive. Its powerful jaws hanging open and it’s pink tongue lolling free, tail whipping out behind it like a banner. A male hunting dog with no equal. Strong as an oak tree and dangerous one of its’ wild brothers. It wheels around in a tight circle, slowing to a light trot as it waits for its’ human to catch up.
The man breaks free of the trees with less grace than the hound, but with far more of a shock for the Captain. His dark hair is windswept and sticking up at odd angles, his face red from exertion. His bare torso is heaving like a bellows and his pale blue eyes bright with joy. There are a series of scratches up his left side, and his calves are scraped and bleeding. But his face is jubilant and there is a distant look in his eyes. His mouth hangs open as well, a wolfish grin showing white teeth.
He rubs his hands over the back of the hound, affectionately ruffling the dogs’ ears. “Good boy, Tierney. What a fine hunter you are! We shall get you a good meal when we get home, and then take you to see your girl, won’t we? Wonder if she’s had her pups while we were out?” he speaks to his dog, completely at ease. It isn’t until he glances up towards the palace that he spots Mutt standing there. She stiffens when his gaze rests upon her, but he just grins happily at her, inviting her to share in his joy.
“Hello there Captain. Were you planning a walk in the forest on this fine day?” he asks politely. She nods, and her eyes slide away from him, trying not to stare openly at his muscular physique as it lays exposed to her. A shirt is clutched tightly in one hand, but apparently he’d left home without any shoes at all that morning. The curious collection of scratches down his side are seeping red, but not too badly. Obviously only slight wounds, and of no concern to the man that bears them.
“Yes your majesty, I was. What better way to enjoy a fine day than to get some fresh air in the outdoors?” her attempt at a smile is a little pathetic, but turns into a genuine one when Tierney comes over to lick her hand. “Why hello there.” Mutt says, cautiously reaching a hand out to pat the hound. “Aren’t you a fine creature?” she murmurs in amazement, feeling the strength in him as her fingers rub his fur.
“My finest hound, and one of my closest friends.” Ryan says with a twinkle in his eye. “And soon to be a father as well, if Nuala ever decides to give them up.” He chuckles at Mutt’s confused expression. “She’s nearly two days past due, at this rate I fear we’ll have a litter of pups as huge as their father!” with that the King walks over to rub his hounds’ ears again affectionately.
“He’s the most magnificent hound I’ve ever seen.” Mutt says sincerely. The dark brown animal’s coat is glossy and his nose keen. Tierney sniffs at the Captain’s feet, picking out the places she’s been of late. “Any offspring of his would be a wonder to behold, to be sure.” Looking up at Ryan, she can see a bit of approval in his eyes, then it is replaced by boyish excitement.
“Would you like to come with me to the kennels to see Nuala? She’s a beautiful black hound, the best sight tracker I’ve ever owned. Between the two of them I’ve never failed to bring something down on a hunt. Maybe, if you’d like, you could even have one of her pups for your own?” the question is spoken more quietly than the rest, a bit of shyness creeping into his voice.
The Captain looks at him in shock, completely take aback by the offer. “You’d offer me a first rate hunting dog? One bred by your two best hounds, and you’d just give it to me?” she asks softly. He nods, sincerity written in every line of his face. “Oh your majesty I would be so grateful!” she says, grinning at him. His face picks up a hint of frustration and his eyes bore into her as he says “But only on one condition.”
Her breath catching in her throat, Mutt realizes she is willing to promise almost anything to get her hands on such a marvelous pup. “What would you have of me, your majesty?” she asks with mild trepidation. “I would have you use my name, Captain. No more titles between us, but let us be friends. I will call you Mutt, and you shall call me Ryan. That is the only deal I will accept.” He says roughly, but with a small smile creeping in at the end.
“Is that all?” Mutt asks chuckling happily. “Well then Ryan, you seem to have yourself a deal. Why don’t we go see your Nuala then, and see about keeping up your end?” Smiling at him, she places a hand on Tierney’s back and they walk toward the palace. Nearly to the gate, Ryan seems to recall that he is not fully dressed, and pulls his shirt on loosely over his head. The rough fabric scrapes against his injured torso, but he doesn’t even wince in pain. He gingerly tugs it to sit on his shoulders, then continues on his way, unaware of Mutt’s gaze on him.
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Post by american09mutt on Apr 19, 2010 22:09:39 GMT -5
The lighting inside the hunting kennels is muted, and most of the dogs are sleeping. Early morning light filters in, outlining the wooden walls and floor, the straw rushes covering the bare boards. Each dog is kept in a separate stall, almost like a horse stable. But the walls are half the height, and the stalls are packed with a second on top of the floor level ones. The kennels are clean, spacious, and kept warm on this cool morning. With the extra chill in the air, it doesn’t feel like late April.
Toward the back the heat deepens, and it’s lighter. A harsh glare from the oil lamps above, bouncing back from slick, wet surfaces. The kennel has obviously been used recently, a birthing kennel. But now it lies empty, waiting to be cleaned by the apprentice boy standing farther down the aisle. He’s holding a blanket and seems to be furiously rubbing a small, still bundle. Ryan’s face grows concerned as he and Mutt approach the boys’ master, who is bent over a fresh kennel, another bundle in his own arms.
He’s rubbing with his own blanket, but more insistently. A small coughing sound comes from the apprentices’ bundle, and he frees the face of a little dark furry mass. The tiny, sightless puppy sits in his big hands. It is breathing regularly now, all on its own, and the boy looks triumphant. He goes to place it back in the box with its’ mother, but Ryan intercepts him. Taking the bundle gently in his strong hands, the King wipes the pup down to warm it. “Look at this one. A fine little hound if ever I saw one. Dark-furred too. I wonder if she’ll be brown like her da, or black like her mum.”
Holding the tiny squirming pup up for Mutt’s inspection, Ryan waits for her appraisal. “A beautiful dog indeed. But somehow, she doesn’t quite appeal to me. And I think she’s going to be a midnight black when she’s grown.” Placing a hand on the edge of the stall, the king lets the pup down next to its’ mother. Being his own hound, she sniffs his hand and licks it. The gleaming ebony hound must be his Nuala. She’s stunning. With fur black as a raven’s wing, and just a touch of glossy blue underneath.
Next to Nuala is a pile of puppies. Counting, Mutt realizes there are six of them, all darkly fuzzy and gleaming where their fur hasn’t quite dried. The master of hounds is still rubbing at the last pup, probably without any hope. If it still isn’t breathing by now, it is most likely a losing battle. Kneeling beside the man, Ryan moves the blanket back from the tiny puppy’s face. The Captain was sitting on the edge of the box, but sits forward to see the tiny furball a little better.
Her first glimpse is of a pure, snowy white being with its’ mouth hanging open, and its’ chest unmoving. It has tiny pink paws, and spots where the blood and matter hasn’t been rubbed entirely off of its’ fur. Mutt stares at it for a few seconds, and Ryan mutters something about a waste. Anger fills her breast, and the Captain seizes the tiny puppy, wrestling it from the callused hands of the master. His fingers continue to rub for a few moments, until he realizes that they are empty. When he looks up at her, Mutt has one finger shoved down the puppy’s throat, groping around.
The king begins to voice an exclamation, but is cut off by the master of hounds, and the hopeful expression on the master’s face. “Quiet my lord king. I cannot help the pup now, but if she can save him, then so be it.” They watch in anxious silence as she removes a lump of pink pulp from the pup’s throat, then begins rubbing it and pumping its’ chest up and down. As she does so, she quietly urges it to breathe. Angling the lantern slightly, Ryan can now see the tiny form clearly, as well as the tears tracking their way down the Captain’s face.
Suddenly, a small huffing noise comes from her hands. Almost too quiet to hear, only audible because they had been listening so intently. The pup lies in her palm, paws splayed out, chest rising and falling in rhythm. With one last brush of the cloth, Mutt removes the last bit of matter from his fur, and places him back beside his mother. Using her large black nose, Nuala nudges him over and he begins to nurse. The master of hounds places his hand on Mutt’s forearm, looking at her with shining eyes. “Thank you. That one would surely have died if you had not been here. But it is small still. It is just a runt.” He mumbles incoherently for a few more words, then wanders off in search of a bucket of water to clean their hands.
“I want him.” Mutt says, a level of finality in her tone. Ryan shakes his head uncertainly gazing at the tiny white form next to its’ dark brothers and sisters. “Wouldn’t you prefer one of the others? A sleek, dark hound to pace by your side. Perhaps that little female there?” he suggests, pointing to the first one that he had helped to breathe. “No. I want him.” She says, voice full of certainty.
“That was amazing, Mutt. You saved his life. I know I promised you a hound, but to give you that one alone… He may not live yet. He’s a runt, and he’s so very small.” He stops, seeing the absolute determination on her face. “Alright. That one it is.” Ryan attempts to smile, and looks at her ponderingly. “But what will you name him?” Gazing down at the little form settled in the clean straw, she says “His name will be Iollan.”
“Ulan?” the King asks, his brows drawing together in confusion. Mutt shakes her head and spells the name out for him. “I-o-l-l-a-n.” Using one fingertip, she rubs the little runt’s head, then runs the finger along his spine, to his little tail. The softness in her eyes is startlingly different from any other look that has ever graced her face. There has certainly been affection there before, and caring. But this is different. It’s an emotion that Ryan had seen in its most basic when she had looked at Neil, but never in its full, most perfect form. For the first time on the face of the stern Captain Mutt, the King spies something called love.
Every day for weeks, Mutt makes her way down to the kennels to check on Iollan. Despite his rough start, he grows steadily over the course of time. His birth fur grows out into a thin but downy puppy coat. When his eyes finally open, they are a pure icy blue. His ears flop around, and his paws are much too big for him. He walks with a pronounced difficulty, but whenever she visits, he bounds over to her and licks her face. Half of the time he lands on his own face before reaching her, but she gently puts him on his feet again.
On one such trip, Keva accompanies her to the kennels to pick out a hound of her own. Her uncle Ryan made it clear that part of her dowry would be a fine dog of her own, to start off a healthy line of hunting hounds wherever it is she decides to settle with Ulfgar. Mutt excitedly walks beside her to the kennels, telling her about the 6 dark puppies waiting for Keva’s appraisal. Two are brown, just like their father; one male and one female. Three are black as midnight, including the female that the king himself coaxed into the world. Her two brothers both have the same bluish tinge as their mother, but the little female has a reddish tint to her fur.
And lastly there is one little puppy with mottled gray, brown, and black fur. The black female has blue eyes like Iollan’s, but of a much darker shade. Her eyes are like crystalline seawater. The five remaining puppies have eyes that range from nearly black to lightest golden brown. The lightest being the oddly-colored pup. Keva looks them all over, but picks up the blue-eyed little female with reddish-black fur. “Oh aren’t you lovely?” she murmurs. “I think I’ll call you Meara. Yes Meara will do splendidly. With eyes the color of the sea.” She looks at the gangly young pup with a fond adoration.
“When do we get to keep them for good, Mutt?” she asks timidly. A new thing for the Captain to hear, but Mutt covers her surprise smoothly. “They’re almost three weeks old. So in another three to five weeks we can begin training them. They’ll just need to be weaned from their mother first.” Keva nods, understanding. She returns her puppy to the warm straw, and they exit the building together. Outside they run into Ryan, who is talking to a very embarrassed Ulfgar. When they see the two women, Ulfgar’s red face deepens to a peculiar shade of crimson.
“Hello love.” He says, greeting Keva with a chaste kiss. “It seems his majesty is intent on giving us half his kingdom as a wedding present. Between the dog, four horses, a good cart, sixteen geese, and seven new gowns for you, I fear what he plans to present to us when we actually tie the knot!” Under the Captain’s surprised gaze, it’s Ryan’s turn to blush. “What else is expected of a King whose favorite cousin is getting married?” Keva hugs him and everyone smiles happily, looking forward to the wedding day. Months of preparation are still to come, but it will be entirely worth all of the extra effort.
In fact, Mutt has even been asked to help out. It seems Keva’s life as a fighting woman has gotten in the way of her making many female friends. Once she got over the King’s seeming attachment to the Captain, and concluded that it was unconsciously brushed aside, Keva became quite friendly with Mutt. They spar every morning before breakfast, and spend a good deal of time together. Keva has befriended much of the crew, and often seeks advice from Mutt concerning her love life. Not that either of them has much to discuss, both being determinedly virgins in their unmarried lives.
Marie’s relationship with Richard has flourished, and he’s taught her to play chess and taken her hunting several times. To the young woman’s delight, he also insisted on being the one to teach her the use of sword and shield, bow and arrow. The pair have been nearly inseparable since their meeting. Mutt and Maureen watch closely, but seem pleased with the match. Perhaps more than one wedding is in store this year.
Maureen herself seems content to flirt with many of the young knights at court, but never to favor one above the rest. Her previous marriage and loss have left her wealthy, but lonely. Mutt’s hope is that one day the lovely widow will eventually find a man that suites her gentle dancer’s heart. Thinking about her friend the Duchess, Mutt can’t help but smile. Tonight, up at the hall, everyone gets a front row seat to Maureen’s passion. Tonight, the Duchess of Harmony will dance.
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Post by american09mutt on Jul 16, 2010 21:55:10 GMT -5
Papers are strewn about the room, sawdust sits in a fine layer over everything. Work has stopped for the day, and King Paul watches the workers file off down the road toward the makeshift village by Swift River. Ever since work on the new palace began, Paul’s heart has been filled with joy. The reason for his joy slowly growing beneath the heart of the woman he loves so much. A woman who, right now, is peering off to the West with a forlorn expression.
They made the decision to build a new palace a few days after the Queen found that she was with child. The old palace was getting a bit shabby, and they would need a larger home to house the combined courts of her kingdom, and people that had come with him from his homeland. This also gave Mindy an opportunity to design everything around her favorite color, pink, instead of the horridly drab shades of purple her mother was so fond of. Light purples were nice, but when overused in a stone palace, it made the place harsh and lifeless.
Decorating usually kept Mindy completely content, but today she seems extremely distracted, and Paul’s brow furrows with worry for his Queen. “Mindy my love, what has you so very preoccupied today?” he asks softly, turning her to look at him. Her eyes are glazed with sadness, two small trails of tears running down her face. “Nothing Paul, just these hormones again” she says unconvincingly, dabbing at her eyes. But of course, she had been looking off to the West. Toward Barendun. She was worried for her friend. Captain Mutt has been gone for months. First in captivity and now simply not responding to her letters. With Maureen gone as well, the Queen is quite miserable.
The baby is just a couple of months along, but the Queen dare not tell a soul besides her husband until her two closest friends return to her. She’d promised Paul that she would tell by the end of the second trimester if her friends had not come home by then. But oh, the waiting. At least she’s had the new palace to distract her. If only she had Mutt’s comfortable companionship and Maureen’s cheerful presence to liven things up a bit. Paul was wonderful, truly, but nothing can beat one’s best friends when under a lot of strain.
In an effort to divert her husband’s attention, she grasps on a much beloved subject of his. “Honey, how is Damian’s training going, now that Alex has left to escort Maureen to Barendun?” At last check, Alex’s beloved Katya had taken over the lad’s martial training. The Knight Master had taught his love well, and she had been the natural choice when Mindy and Mutt had created a Knight’s peerage for women. The Rycerz, a fierce and cunning band of women who followed their leader Katya into battle. Or off to search the countryside for a suitable groom for their Queen. They had been assigned many duties in their short years of existence, but nothing light or easy.
Mindy trusted her Rycerz with her life. They made up half of the castle guard, with an elite group to address any immediate issues at hand. One lowly lordling had decided that he need not pay his taxes, without the Queen’s champion Mutt to enforce the laws on his distant peninsular holding. She had sent the Rycerz off on a weeklong ride to bring the man to obedience. They had returned triumphant, with the man’s son in tow. Fostering the young man at the palace was Katya’s idea. A brilliant way to keep the lordling happy, while training his son to be a better vassal than his father.
Unfortunately on the trip back, the young man had fallen hard for one of the young Rycerz. He now follows her about the palace, moony-eyed and dripping with sweet words for her. The Rycerz, Cindy, seemed to enjoy his attention, but it could cause some issues for their majesties down the road. Cindy was the daughter of a wealthy merchant, but by no means nobility. But if they could induct Devon into the group of loyal Knights, perhaps their equality of rank would be enough to appease the young man’s father.
Suggesting as much to Paul would be a stretch though, best to make him think it was his idea. “Oh Damian has been coming along quite nicely. His swordsmanship is steadily improving, but his horse skills need some work still.” Perfect. Devon was from a small manor that had many horses, and had grown up in the saddle. “You have a look on your face, love. Do you know a way to improve him that I haven’t already tried?”
“I think I may at that. Young Devon there, he’s not too much younger than Damian. The two of them could make fast friends don’t you think? And Devon is quite good with horses…” She trails off, waiting for Paul to fully catch onto her plan. “Yes dear, that may just work. But both young men would have to become Knights… Ah I see, that was your thought all along. Well I suppose we’ll have to make that official won’t we?” kissing her gently and placing one hand on her as yet unrounded stomach, Paul takes Mindy by the hand. Let’s go see how dinner is coming, shall we?” They walk out of the unfinished master chambers and down to the completed grand hall, where a small meal is awaiting those who will stay the night.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING? You’re going to get your lordly head split open you moron!” Cindy’s shout echoes across the field, turning Devon’s face a deeper shade of red than exertion can account for. “I said parry left, cut up, and stab to the right! You’re never going to get this if you don’t FOCUS!” he tries again, doing a bit better this time. Six other young men sitting on a fence nearby begin to heckle him. They are all there for one reason, to become Knights. Some of them were Squires already, but none had been chosen by knights, to follow at their heels and learn on the road. Not yet.
But Devon would be darned if he was the last one to be chosen. And so he continued this humiliation, trying to learn to fight with a weapon that was heavy and awkward in his hands. The only person who would help him train outside of normal hours was Cindy, a female knight even younger than he was himself. The lads on the fence were all accomplished swordsman, and were quite fond of slagging him when he messed up. But he’d show them, just as soon as they got to jousting and fighting on horseback. If there was one thing he could do, it was ride.
Finally Rycerz Katya called for an end to practice, and told them to get to the stables. Today was the day they would show what they could do on a horse. And Devon planned to outshine them all. His father had sent with him two horses, a gelding and a mare. The mare was for riding, and the gelding for fighting practice. If he was made a Knight, his father swore he would provide him with a proper mount, fit for his station. But until then, he had to make do with Blitz and Starfire.
Putting his gear away in the barracks, Devon went to meet up with Cindy in front of the stables. The Knights and Rycerz that were currently in residence would be helping the trainees to practice and train. Arriving outside however, Devon spies a man standing next to Cindy, and his heart sinks into his belly. The dark hair and tall stature are unmistakable. But what is prince Damian doing talking to HIS Cindy? Sucking in a deep breath, Devon marches over to meet them.
As he reaches them, Cindy lets out a delighted laugh, and Devon’s sinking stomach does a backflip into his shoes. She’s laughing at something the Prince said, and at that moment Devon wants Damian far, far away from here. “Hey there Devon! You’re not going to believe what Damian was just telling me!” with a forced smile on his face, Devon turns to Damian, waiting for it to be repeated. Instead, Damian sticks out his hand and waits, smiling, for Devon to take it. Confusion written on his face, Devon shakes the young Prince’s hand, still waiting for this hilarious information.
“It’s more like a proposition, actually.” The young man’s accent is thick, but his tone clear with confidence. “I was hopin’ that you could show me how to mount one of these big beasties. I’ve never ridden anything bigger’n a plains pony before. Lightning quick they are, and you can jump on and ride ‘em bareback for miles.” A small chagrined smile appears on the Prince’s face. “But these horses are so huge… I’m just afraid I’ll look like a right idiot if I tried without your help. Cindy tells me you ride like the wind on these great beasts, is that true?”
Snapping out of his stupor, Devon nods. The prince needs his help. “Of course your highness, I’d be glad to help!” smiling a genuine smile for the first time, Devon puts his hand out once more. Damian hesitates, making a face. “Only if you promise not to call me highness.” He says, deadly serious. “What should I call you then?” Devon inquires. “Damo, if you mean to be my friend. And I think we’re going to be the best of mates, you and me.” Shaking hands and laughing, the two lads walk off toward the stables. Cindy trails along behind, grinning. Now she has the two young men right where she wants them. Surely now she’ll be able to decide which one she likes more.
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Post by american09mutt on Feb 13, 2011 19:09:04 GMT -5
Outside a storm is brewing, the dark clouds hanging on the cliffs of Barendun like a promise. Inside is warmly lit and servants are bustling about the King’s private chambers preparing for the party. His majesty is throwing a celebration of sorts for Keva; with both the King’s courtiers and the visiting ambassadors to be in attendance. The King strolls across the cozy dance hall that has been prepared for this little function, a pleased smile toying at his normally severe expression.
“Can we place that food table over to the side more, please? Good. Fantastic. Everything looks wonderful!” Keva turns at the sound of his voice, smiling up at him. Her hand sits in the crook of Ulfgar’s elbow, with the big man’s other hand clasping the handle of a very oddly shaped case. “Ah good, you found the glasses then? I would have you use them at your wedding, as tradition dictates.” The King’s smile breaks through finally at the last words, as Keva winces and rolls her eyes.
“Ryan, those glasses are meant for the wedding of the royal heir…” she trails off as Ryan raises his eyebrow knowingly. “You’re kidding. You’re naming me your heir like THIS? But surely when you have sons…” trailing off again, she sighs. “No, you don’t intend to marry do you? Well I will accept being your heir unless you have sons worthy of the crown, because then I shall abdicate in their favor.”
“No Keva please, we both know I don’t intend to marry, and I wholly trust you with the fate of the kingdom. Just accept it and be happy!”
“I cannot, your sons deserve more. You seem to think you shall not have any, but I have this feeling… but for now I shall accept. Let us leave it at that, the guests should be arriving in less than an hour!” Grinning, Keva lifts a mask to cover her face. “And surely nothing could distract us better of the now than a masked ball!”
A soft swishing fills the hall, interspersed with frequent grumbling, as the crew of The Dark Lady dresses for the King’s party. The grumbling is a mixture of complaints from those unused to wearing dresses, and the frustration of those unused to the mechanics of putting them on. Captain Mutt for one is already dressed in her midnight blue gown and is bustling about helping the other girls tuck and pull and tie and button. Within minutes of being called to go, everyone is dressed and ready, with a few here and there scratching at the fabric of their clothing and frowning.
When the doors open to reveal Duchess Maureen, everyone stops moving. “Good, you’re all dressed. I was worried I would have to call servants and tie you all down to get you into those.” Maureen spies the Captain sitting regally off to one side, and nods to her. “Are we ready then?” Mutt stands, walks to the door, and they process arm-in-arm toward the party room. In pairs, the rest of the crew follows. They don’t know what the Captain has arranged for them, but the night and the dresses will seem a lot easier to bear in just a few minutes.
Amid the shadows cast by torches all along the hallway, dark human forms lurk. Mutt and Maureen proceed without a care but the crewmembers are cautious. Until the first shape resolves itself into a certain guitar-playing traveler they all know. Neil’s light blue doublet and crisp white shirt are well-fitted. His tan trousers tucked into tall brown boots, and a brown belt strapped around his waist. His dark eyes glitter with mirth as he bows to the women; he offers his arm to the two ladies at the front.
As courtesy dictates that intended couples must not arrive together, Maureen takes his arm and off they go. Neil, unaware of this general rule, is a bit put off by this, and must try to hide his confusion as they approach the door to the ballroom. Mutt is left to herself for but a moment before Alex appears and offers his arm. Being a number of inches taller than she, and wearing a dark orange doublet, they make a strikingly unique pair.
Out of the shadows, one by one, young knights appear to offer their arms to the various members of the crew. Left at the end are the elder members, the very few of them that are widows or never married older women. Their arms are taken by polite older bachelors and widowers who have returned as knight instructors in the King’s service; handsome, mature gentleman, some of them with a little grey in their hair. All of them polite to a fault and dressed more richly than the younger peacocks of knighthood.
Grand doors at the halls’ end open, the group trails into the room in pairs, bright colors flashing and fabrics shimmering in the candlelight. The guests of honor, Keva and Ulfgar, are seated at the head of the hall. The King is walking around greeting people, dark head bobbing in agreement with something. He looks up and smiles, his eyes a warm blue-grey thanks to his royal blue doublet. His black trousers and black boots are trimmed out with silver lining and buckles.
Maureen and Neil walk straight over to the seated guests of honor to give their greeting and congratulations, then fade into the crowd. Mutt and Alex go to do the same, and Keva stands to hug her newfound friend. They talk for a few moments, but Mutt’s shoulder blades itch from the eyes on her back. She excuses herself, and Alex leads her away in search of Maureen. Freed from conversation, Mutt skims the crowd looking for the source of her discomfort. Nobody meets her eyes until she sees the King standing by the fire, and he bows his head in greeting.
He smiles, and she can’t help smiling in return. Ryan’s attitude is pleasantly genial tonight, smoothly charming all of his guests in a manner most unusual for him. At least, not seen since She left. His attention is caught by someone entering, and his face contorts into a tortured expression at the sight of red hair in the room. But he identifies the woman as Mutt’s Quartermistress and everything about him relaxes. Suddenly cross, he glances back to Mutt, who raises an eyebrow knowingly, but turns away at the sound of Maureen’s laugh.
The happy siren call of Maureen’s good humor echoes across the chamber, calling her friends to her. Every one of the people in her small circle are smiling, or laughing themselves. Whether at the initial joke or the woman’s laugh, Mutt cannot tell. But she makes her way over to stand beside her friend, and Neil carefully places his hand on her lower back as she steps into the circle itself. Smiling sweetly the Captain looks into the eyes of her man, so close to her own height if it weren’t for his new boots. The pair of them looking like midnight and dawn side by side.
Maureen’s green gown is tight at the sleeves with an empire waist, the fashion favored at the court in Noxville. Mutt’s dress is very similar, but of a lighter weight fabric, being a dress brought from her rooms in the Noxville palace. Maureen had hers made for the trip here, and anticipated the cooler sea air before having her new wardrobe made. The other crewmembers are dressed in whatever the captain managed to get from the seamstresses when they arrived, mostly the local fashion of loose long sleeves and a tight shoulder-to-waist bodice.
Neil’s breath tickles Mutt’s cheek as he leans in to whisper in her ear. “You look stunning tonight, queen of my heart.” His words are sappy but his eyes are wandering over the yards of dark fabric draped around her body. “Simple and elegant as always.” A smile splits on his face as his fingers gently press into her back. She curves toward him unconsciously, her loose hair brushing along the front of his doublet. Tilting her head and arching her back around the pressure of his hand, Mutt speaks in a purring tone. “And you look boyishly handsome, if I didn’t know better I’d think you were one of these young knights!”
A quick look of shock is replaced by a half-smile. “I’m hardly a boy, sweetheart. Sometimes you make me feel like an old man.” Mutt raises her hand to her mouth to laugh politely behind it. Her liquid chocolate eyes all the answer he needs. “But if you don’t recall so readily, maybe I should take the time to remind you after this silly party is finished?” Lowering her hand to his arm, the captain squeezes his bicep for a moment in agreement and pulls away from him, turning to the newest addition to their little group; King Ryan.
One of the ladies standing nearby cooing over Maureen and Mutt’s gowns finally speaks up upon spying the king. “Your majesty! How kind of you to invite us to such an intimate gathering. I hope there is some entertainment to look forward to this evening?” Out of her voluminous sleeves she extracts a brightly-colored fan that she flicks open and waves about as she smiles at him. Ryan, not to be put off by such an obvious and unwanted display, gives a tight smile in return.
“I assure you Madame, there has been ample time to arrange such a gathering, and we are well provided for. In fact, the entertainment for the evening will be provided by people already in attendance!” This statement arouses chatter from all quarters and guesses as to whom amongst them might be showing off their talents tonight. Mutt quirks one eyebrow at Maureen’s sudden quiet, but says nothing, knowing her friends’ well-known talent for dance. Maureen’s lips quirk almost into a smile, and she flicks her fingers to the base of her throat in a gesture that calls for silence.
Mutt nods once and is distracted by someone asking if anyone in the crew could sing or dance well enough to please the assembly. “I’m sorry but all the songs we have tend to be those for common folk or long sea-voyages. Crude material and too many verses isn’t really the fare for a king’s hall.” she says at last, much to the fan-woman’s swiftly-hidden delight. A flash of her fan downplays the sadness of that statement as she states that she is quite capable of singing and would be absolutely pleased as punch to do a small number for the party.
The king gestures toward a lovely little piano in the corner and says that she’s free to do so if anyone in attendance can play admirably to accompany her. Mutt elbows her love, and the traveling troubadour takes a seat on the piano bench. After a quick discussion of songs both know well, the fan-lady and the musician settle on a piece most common to northern Barendun, “Softly at Twilight”. He begins to play, and she comes in with a pleasant but showy soprano. Her voice hits every note squarely, if with a little too much vibrato, and the audience claps encouragingly after the piano’s final notes die.
Fan-woman curtsies and waves her fan to thank everyone, smiling exaggeratedly and floating off on quick little feet to rejoin her friends. Neil stands and looks uncertainly around, wondering if anyone else is intent on performing as well. Three members of the crew jostle their way forward, gently nudging at each other and giggling quietly. First in line is Dani, whom Mutt barely recognizes without little shavings of wood all over her. The ship’s carpenter looks lovely in a robin’s-egg blue dress with a golden hem. Her dark blonde hair spilling over her shoulders in maidenly fashion.
Behind her is Tam, one of the gunners, whose arms are surprisingly pale when not covered in gunpowder and soot. Her hair is brushed out and freshly washed; shining more yellow than Dani’s but just as lovely. Her lavender-colored dress contrasts prettily with her wheat-gold hair. After her comes Channon, the girl who swabs the deck. Her light brown hair and rosy dress complete the set. They request a song that makes Neil smile, and he sits back down to scattered applause from the audience gathering.
He plays the opening chord, and Dani’s soprano cuts clearly through the residual chatter. Tam’s mezzo-soprano voice fills in next, then Chan’s alto comes in to make it a fuller sound. Their voices roll over the crowd like a ripple, the smooth tones of their combined sound as clear as the sky in winter. They sing of a maid who raises goats, but who longs to go away with the fey folk. Day after day she dreams of it, until a man comes to her one night on a dark horse and takes her away with him. She’s never heard from again, and the story ends with the clear soprano cutting through the now silent room, singing of the girl’s ghost walking through the pastures and wanting to go home.
Dani’s voice cuts off with a sad finality, and the crowd claps and cheers, for it’s a song new to everyone but the crew. Apparently it’s practically unknown, not heard outside Queen Mindy’s kingdom very often. The King especially looked pleased, happy to hear something new for once. “Why we never hear new songs, and that was a real treat. You ladies sounded beautiful together, and master Neil is a fine pianist.” Ryan claps and grins at the three young ladies, and Neil, in turn. “Is there anyone else that would grace us with a performance? As the night is so bad, perhaps something to suit the weather?”
From her spot lounging against the wall with some of the other crewmates, Ghost pipes up. “I think we should hear from the Captain. She may not admit it but she sings well enough, and she knows songs that some here have probably never heard. If she would, I’d request a song about our ship, The Dark Lady. It’s not a true song, obviously, but it’s pretty.” Looking to the captain’s shocked but compliant face, the king bows slightly, one arm out toward the piano. Mutt strides across the room and stands next to Neil, giving him a weak smile.
“This song is a rumor about my ship, one I spread happily enough. The more people who believe it is a ghost ship the better for me. Means I won’t get attacked as often.” At that she grins mischievously at Ryan, who feigns innocence, and Neil begins to play. The captain’s voice starts out weak, but strengthens gradually, a comfortable but untrained alto with a rough edge to it. She sings of a pirate captain, a mean horrible man who captures a vessel and falls in love with a bold maiden he finds aboard it. He marries her, and his ship takes revenge upon them both. The ship steers into a storm, killing them all, and trapping the crew aboard forever. A ghost ship that sails in the night, and should be feared.
By the end there are tears in the captain’s eyes and her voice trails off, full of emotion. The cheering is loud, and her crew are all grinning at her. Ryan takes her hand and shows her around to various groups, where the ladies flick their fans in appreciation and the men lavish her with praise. Mutt hates every second of it, but was very pleased with the way she and Neil sounded together. She determined to have him accompany her more often, in private company of course. Maybe tonight…
Finally Mutt manages to beg off and leave Ryan’s company to seek out her beloved Neil. Grasping his arm she murmurs “We should do that more often, my sweet. You played so very well!” her smile and the lingering touch of her hand makes him smile, then look deeply into her eyes without blinking. His eyes are dark and strange with longing. They both look up when the crowd around them grows very quiet. The king is about to speak.
“We have one final piece of entertainment now, the one I actually planned on for tonight’s company. Our dear visiting sister, Duchess Maureen, will be gracing us with her skills of dance. A kind we haven’t seen before, but are quite popular in Mindy’s realm.” He pauses to let everyone clap some, then continues. “Maureen if you would?” she comes forward through the crowd, no longer dressed in her long gown. It has been replaced with a much shorter dress made for traditional dancing in her home realm.
The black and white outfit is deceptively simple at first, but looks more complex the closer she is. It’s fitted beautifully so that it hugs her torso, and the skirt flares out from her hips. Her long shapely legs draw more than a few of the knights to gape at her, but it’s the way she moves that is most astonishing. Gone is the demure lady, and here is a strong, lovely dancer as they are used to seeing on market day. Her hair is curled out in a bouncing rippling wave, sitting perfectly on her shoulders. She smiles and waves at everyone, as the area around her is cleared for her performance.
Lightning cracks outside and a few of the ladies scream. They are quickly comforted by strong male companions, several of whom boast brave but silly promises of protection and safety to the tittering females around them. Thunder booms loudly, rumbling and widening the eyes of the most boastful men. The storm outside is really picking up, and the servants begin passing around more drinks in the hopes of calming the guests.
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Post by marie on Aug 18, 2011 19:44:23 GMT -5
please please please continue this!!!!!!!!!!!!!! the gap between each update is killing me!!
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Post by celticbear on Aug 18, 2011 21:17:19 GMT -5
Mutt! I had forgoten about the*Dark Lady* till now! Please when you have a chance, Update.
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Post by Mindy Kinney on Jul 30, 2012 17:17:02 GMT -5
bump
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Post by redqueen on Jul 30, 2012 20:45:58 GMT -5
Shameless hint Minds?
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Post by Mindy Kinney on Jul 30, 2012 22:15:28 GMT -5
THAT and i was rereading as i offered to brainstorm with her
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