IP: 82.19.140.112
Posted on August 29, 2012 at 09:01:48 PM by arthur & pendragon
Arthur shook his head as his fingers loosened their grip on the bottle and she accepted back the wine, “I wasn’t dead when they put me in the boat, but I did not have much longer.” One of his knights had found him lying in the mud, his crown having tumbled free of his helm to lie alone in a nearby bramble patch. Arthur remembered little, and what he did remember was a strange jumble of information. His dying mind had made note of things that a living mind would perhaps have not deemed as relevant. Arthur could not recall which knight it was who had pulled him to his feet, and placed the golden crown back upon his head, could not remembered that worried, panicked face. He did recall however that whoever it had been had been in possession of a head wound, a deep gash running across the left side of his forehead, with blood cascading down his face. Arthur remembered feeling a cold kind of exhaustion, and could still recall, in vivid detail, one particular tree that his eyes had lingered on as he staggered towards the water’s edge. “I’d been stabbed,” he explained to Dyna gesturing to the place in his chest where the blade had gone in, just beneath his sternum, “I was old, and just a little too slow.” Arthur watched as she raised the bottle to her mouth again, a fond smile forming on his lips, “I do not know,” he said slowly, with another shake of his head, “it certainly was not something I was expecting.” The legends had promised him a return, as Britain’s Once and Future King, waiting on the island of the blessed in peace and bliss until his beloved isles had need of him again. Shaman had been an accident, of that he was certain, and Arthur was under no illusion that one day the lady of the lake would reclaim her charge, and take him back to Avalon. He could not imagine that she had been pleased to have him snatched from her protective embrace, her sacred duty interrupted by a mischievous so-called demi-god. “It is who I am,” Arthur shrugged finally, “I have never been anything else. I don’t think I have ever been irredeemably unhappy, but I have nothing to compare it to. Does that make sense?” She drew his answers from him with such ease, answers that he had long kept to himself, long kept hidden, even from those he loved. There was a naturally thoughtful nature to Dyna, he realised, a soul perhaps suited well to match his own. “Things that might happen?” the King pressed her curiously, smiling at their interlocked fingers as she turned to face him, her chin lifted spiritedly upwards, “like what?” The grey eyes were soft, their sometime-coldness banished completely in his gentle curiosity. They were the eyes of a man who wanted to understand, who wanted to listen. They locked onto Dyna’s own, and there was something there, something in the dark depths of her iris, that made him reach out with his free hand, his fingers gently curling around the point of her chin. Gently, he drew her towards him, and moved his own head to meet hers as he brushed his lips against the dark pouting form of her own. The first was gentle, the second a little more insistent, a little deeper as the inviting warmth and feminine smell of her filled his senses.  |
Replies:
- i try to live a gentle life - By Dyna Bowmore September 14, 2012 at 02:33:54 AM
- I will wait for you - By arthur & pendragon September 14, 2012 at 04:03:41 AM
- oh my god it's alright - By Dyna Bowmore September 14, 2012 at 04:50:09 AM
- I will wait for you - By arthur & pendragon September 14, 2012 at 04:03:41 AM
Post a reply:
<--
-->