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And thus did the Archangel descend from Heaven itself...
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Post by Archangel on Feb 25, 2006 23:49:24 GMT -5
Batair stood, an expression of joy on his face. He had done it! It wasn't the best thing for him to do, considering he could die in the battle tomorrow. But he had made an impression on the Emperor! And it seemed everybody in the room, disregarding the Chamberlain, was appreciative of his candor.
"Oh thank ye, yer Highness! I shall be yer great'st champine, I promise ye! Thank ye!"
He rose to his feet, but still remained in a bowed slave position. He backed his way slowly until he got to his seat on the benches, and sat down with the other Gladiators. One hit him on the shoulder, almost congratulating him, but he barely noticed it. His mind was scurrying through the possibilities. If he could survive the battle, win it for the Emperor, Nero might even free him! Surely he could see the advantage of having a mighty warrior like Batair in his service, instead of fighting to the death in the Coliseum. And Batair would be of service to the Emperor, he would serve him dutifully and faithfully, if only given the chance.
He was so preoccupied with his thoughts that he was surprised when he noticed the other man who strode into the room. Then, his eyes fixed themselves on the man, who was called Altair. And they narrowed viciously. Altair! Gods above, it was him! Batair growled deep in his throat, and tried to ignore the man. But he couldn't.
Of course he knew Altair. He was one of the best Gladiators in the entire empire. Batair wasn't sure, but he figured that the man had fought nearly as many battles as he himself had, and of course won them all. And, to add insult to injury, Altair was free! A freedman! Why he still fought in the Coliseum was obvious. He simply loved death. He fought for glory and fame, not for honor. He loved to kill his opponent in front of hundreds of Romans, who went to his fights almost religiously. He was a showman most of all. And Batair could feel the old swellings of anger within him. He was angry simply because he was jealous, and he knew it. Altair was a great warrior, and free, and vainglorious. He was in some ways what Batair hated, and in some ways what he wanted to be. Batair fought because he had to, because he was forced to. Not because he loved to kill. And he was a slave. Altair was opposite of him in both respects.
Batair went back to his food, eating it slowly. The meat was good and fresh, the vegetables crisp and good. But they tasted like sawdust in his mouth. All he could think of was Altair. He had never fought the man, because he was one of the main attractions, and so was Altair, so if they fought each other, someone was bound to lose, which meant there would be less fights. It worked out better that the two never fought. But someday....someday, he would fight Altair. And the gods be damned, he would win.
His eyes wandered up and down the table. He noted Asira, the beautiful young princess, daughter of the Emperor and influential in her own right. He did not exactly avoid eye contact with her, but he did try not to stare, considering he was still a slave. He also noted someone off to the side, someone who was doing their best not to be seen. A woman...Egyptian, by the slant of her eyes and the color of her skin. A slave too, considering how she carried food and drink out to the table, and other such duties. But she was strikingly good-looking, and since she was a slave, Batair had no problem staring. He was appreciative of women's bodies, very much so. Being a Gladiator didn't give you much time to focus on women. Most of his time was spent training and fighting with men. Occassionally, just to keep the Gladiators happy, the Contesar would hire whores to come and service the men, give them what they needed, and Batair was no stranger to love-making. But he was still appreciative of a good-looking woman when he saw one, and this Egyptian girl was exactly that. She had a foreign flare to her that excited him, and he liked the way her hair was arranged. But she kept to the shadows, and stayed off to the side, and Batair could never quite see much of her.
So he continued his meal, mostly in silence, as he considered his thoughts.
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Post by Kai! Kai! on Feb 26, 2006 20:59:30 GMT -5
Meskhenet was aware of the Gladiators eyes on herbut she made on show of knowing she knew he was watching. Instead she continued her duties enjoying the festive atmosphere. The night wore on and hte men continued ot get drunker and drunker so they broke out into song and the boasting of thier battle exploits. Meskhenet couldn't help but smile as she listened reminding her of the parties back home in Egypt. the warriors ofthe pharo would often talk good naturedly and get roudier as the night of drinking wore on, what ruined the atmosphere for her however was the language, they all spoke greek it wasn't a bad language in itself but Meskhenet had a lvoe for her own native language. 'You serving wench!' one of the gladiators bellowed across the room. ' Come hereand serve us, these good for nothings take to long and we need more drink! they roarediwth laughter that irritated meskhenet but she hid her irritatino behind a mask of a servant and nodded quickly carrying jugs of wine around the table nimbaling avoiding the large hands that reached out to pull her onto thier laps and occasionaly slapping several hands away from fondaling piercing htem with looks that could peel several layers of skin off in a look. They soon learned not to touch but it didn't stop them from making a game out of it.
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Post by Caligo [Inactive] on Feb 27, 2006 9:39:07 GMT -5
Altair did what he did best at first - look out for himself. He glanced over every door and window, every guard and guest for any line of sight that could pose a problem. Not to hus suprise, but perhaps a bit of a letdown, there was nothing. But one thing did stand out in his mind. Two, really, but one applies now. One of the royals... He didn't like the look in that man's eyes. Who was he now? Ah yes, the younger of the brothers, Deodatus. That look, akin to a glare... There was something wicked about that man, Altair decided as he took a drink from the gobblet before him.
The other thing that caught his eye was the royal family's daughter, Asira. He caught her fierce emerald eyes looking him over from beneath her beautiful auburn hair; her arrayment only serving to accent her flawless figure. He held her gaze for but a moment and offered her a confident smile, and then she knew she had been seen and looked away across the room. There was no wonder in his mind whether there was something to great for her to ask of a man - one simply could not say no to a creature like that... ...unless she was a real bitch. Altair shrugged and took another sip of his wine before setting about sizing up the other competitors.
While the others gorged themselves on the limitless supply of food and wine, Altair watched and waited. He listened to the stories the men told, watched as some of them began to pass out, all the while keeping a rough tally in his mind and ranking them more or less as challengers to his might. Altair kept an air of authority and restraint, dignity despite his purpose. He was there to compete in the games, for wealth and glory, and the chance to claim any prize he wanted... Not to mention the honor of putting down royalty. He had yet to kill a royal person he was not paid to because he didn't much want to make that his last appearance. A barbaric looking man to his left fell off of his bench and did not rise again. The fools... Don't they understand the basic reasoning behind this dinner? This may very well be their only chance to look good... And that one warrior who dare confont Nero, for instance, held a respectful place in Altair's mind. Perhaps that man would be one of the few he didn't kill... The warrior without a cause sat back and dined as he would in direct audience with the royal family alone.
Finding his gobblet empty and opting not to sink to the lure of the uproar around him, Altair simply raised a hand and tracked the serving woman with his eyes. When she did turn to him, she paused a moment in confusion - manners? From a gladiator? She shook the thought from her head; she supposed he was different, if only from watching him. But even the Egyptian slave girl had heard something of the undefeated Altair and his past. Meskhenet remembered briefly something about him being lost by his parents in a war and travelling all across the lands to learn the art of fighting and acquire the power to win. It would seem he had just that.
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Archangel
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And thus did the Archangel descend from Heaven itself...
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Post by Archangel on Feb 27, 2006 19:30:37 GMT -5
Batair, while feasting just as heartily as any man, was not drunk. Nor was he out of control. He controlled his liquor very well, considering the wine they served here was nothing compared to the rotgut homegrown whiskey he was used to drinking, in the barracks and in his native land. But the Gladiators here were drinking themselves silly, and that was actually more than a little embarrassing to the big man. A Gladiator should be a proud, strong warrior. Not an oafish, stupid drunkard. Maybe that was why Batair had won so many battles, while so many others had lost their lives. Because Batair would not be reduced to that level.
He saw Altair, looking sane and normal compared to these other buffoons, and he felt a grudging sense of admiration. At least there was someone else here who understood his reason for being here. It was not to drink yourself silly and eat until you vomited. It was to impress the royal family. He sat quietly, watching the interplay between slaves, Gladiators, and royals, who seemed slightly disgusted at this blatant show of disrespect. Well, the evening was almost over. At least he didn't have to bear this embarrassment much longer....
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Post by Kai! Kai! on Feb 28, 2006 5:02:34 GMT -5
Meskhenet was feeling foot sore from all the serving but she did enjoy the night. The festive atmosphere fo the nigth was infectious even if she spent most of it playing dodge the gladiator. they seemed to apreciate her forien looks unfortunatly for them she wasn't one to play. She did however despite the excitement of the night keep a close eye on two of the gladiators, they remained sober. The Gladiator who had kneeled before hte Emporor and pledged himself and the one that had come late the somewhat famous Altair. The Man was pleasent and well mannered unlike his comrads and always thanked her when she refilled his goblet. On impulse while filling his goblet for perhaps the third time thta night she lent close enough fo only him to hear. 'Draw not too much attention to yourself Gladiator. Trechery is rife within this nobel home and a misplaced word of gesture on either side could place your head on the cutting block...' Her words were a warning for caution not a threat and as she stepped away she bowed her head and moved away to searve the rest. By the time the night was drawing to a close Meskhenet would ahve quite happily curled up in her hard palet in the serving quarters and slept what remaiend of the ngith away but she had work to do. So slipping away from her duties -for she would not be missed- and headed for her room to get a change of cloths and then head for the servants baths. She smelled to much of wine and smoke from the feast and if she was to move about unnoticed she would have no smell and a cold bath would not make her suffer, after all she used ot bathe reguarly in the Nile back home even with the aligators. slipping dowm the dakr passages her clean cloths in hand Meskhenet made her way to the baths. The halls were silent much to her reliefe, it wasn't that she was afraid it just would have been irritating to have to explain her reasons for heading for the baths this late at night.
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Post by Skye on Feb 28, 2006 12:40:26 GMT -5
Asira could not stop glancing over to Altair and while she avoided her brothers gaze, she could still feel his eyes burning into her. It was an uncomfortable feeling, and she didn't like it, shifting in her seat as she took a sip of the finest wine. As much as everyone wished to be part of royalty, she didn't really like it. Yes you get the nicest food and wine but there are dangers as she knows. It was then she felt the she, Asira, wanted to get away.
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Post by odi on Feb 28, 2006 17:29:49 GMT -5
"Why do you need me?" The man in black sighed. "You Colera scum do not pay me shit..." "Watch yer mouth, Merc!" "Watch YOUR mouth, nobody. He is right," He nodded, "Name your price." The man in black pondered and replied: "The Darkness Tear is in your possession, is it not?" "Say no more. The Darkness Tear is yours. Failure is not an option, mind you." "Understood - The Black Reaper is at your service. As always. Success is my middle name."
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Post by Kai! Kai! on Feb 28, 2006 18:22:36 GMT -5
Meskhenet foudn the baths with little trouble and stripped down before submering herself in the cold water. The shock of it was only temporary before she got down to scrubbing herself clean. Then once she was clean she climbed out and dried off brushing her hair until it was tangle free and htne intricarly braided it os not a single stray hair and hten arranged her various consealed blades before pulling on the black tight fitted clothing she would wear when out in the city beyond. What she wore was simple a pair of thigh length leggings, blakc binding around her shinds and across the arches of her feet. Black ifngerless gloves and a tip that was the length of a dress and split up the sides all the way to the shoulders and held in place with a simple black sash. that doen she then transfered the hidden blades in her word cloths to her new cloths and dissapeared carrying her dirty cloths through the hidden passages back to her room where she grabbed a black hood that had a stitched in lower face guard. It would cover all her face except for the space where her eyes are and ht bridge of her nose. Tucking her hair out of the way she collcted her concealed bladed chain and a simple three-quarter staff before ducknig out of the room and through more passages out inot the city. The night was silent exceptfor the occasional sound of a dog which while not serious still made meskhenet uneasy. She would keep to the shadows and investigate in secret this night.
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Archangel
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And thus did the Archangel descend from Heaven itself...
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Post by Archangel on Mar 2, 2006 21:27:24 GMT -5
It was late, and the feast was officially over. The escort of Roman soldiers came to bring the Gladiators back to their barracks in preparation for the contest tomorrow. Most of the big, strong men were drop-down, fall-out drunk, and could barely stagger to their feet without falling all over themselves as they left. But Batair was not. He very calmly stood up, supporting a man named Cluda who hung on him as if he was a lone buoy in a wild and turbulent sea, and guided the man to the door. The Roman soldiers watched as the Gladiators came closer. But Batair stopped, let Cluda down gently onto the ground, and turned around. Approaching the table again, he knelt before the Emperor, who was looking very regal and dignified, and spoke.
"Once agin, t'honors meh ta be at yer table, yer Highness. I swear to ye, I will do ye proud tomorra, and I shall win mah battle. Thank ye for yer kindness, 'n for yer hosp'tality."
With that, Batair very carefully stood up, and walked out the door with the rest of the Gladiators. He had impressed the royal family, he was sure.
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It was dingy and dark back at the barracks that these Gladiators called home. Batair helped the others get into their cots, mainly because the soldiers weren't around anymore to help support the Gladiators, and because he felt bad letting them lay there in their own stink. Some of them would vomit, some of them would dirty themselves, he was sure. Most were quite drunk. But he felt he could at least do them the courtesy to put them in bed. There, at least, they could do what they would in their own private corner of the world.
When he was finally done, he made his way to his own cot. It was too small for a giant like him, made for big men but not men as big as he was, and it was hard as wood could be. But it was something to lay on, at least, and it was where he kept his things. His clothes, and whatever keepsakes and favors he had won over the years. They were all around his bed, pieces of armor, little rings that had been ripped from opponents noses or ears, pieces of weaponry that had been dug out of his flesh after particularly grusome fights. Even an arrow that a spectator had used to try and kill him from the crowds, although why in the world anyone would want to kill a Gladiator if they were not a Gladiator themself was a mystery to him. But he did not keep his most valuable possession in the open.
As he reached his cot, he undressed, sleeping in the nude as all the Gladiators did, and laid down on his rough, thin pillow. Turning away from everyone else's sight, he reached into a rip in the pillow, dug around a bit, and pulled something out. It was a lump, wrapped in a piece of cloth. Carefully, he unrolled the cloth, until it was spread out in his hand. And with his other hand, he reached in and carefully removed what was in the cloth, bringing it close to his eyes. Even in the dim light, he could see it sparkle a bit.
It was a rock. A small piece, no bigger than his thumb, of semi-precious stone. Amethyst, actually. It was carved in the shape of an Alder tree, a sacred tree to the Celts, and had a hole through the top where a string could be run through it. Batair held the stone in his hand, and put down the cloth so his other hand could come up. He softly rubbed the stone, caressing it, and his eyes were bleary and far away. He did this for a long time, rubbing the stone rhythmically and softly, until finally, he stopped. Carefully, he wrapped it back up in the cloth, and stuffed it back into his pillow. Now, he could go to sleep. Closing his eyes, he drifted off, and was soon fast asleep....
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Post by Skye on Mar 2, 2006 22:51:14 GMT -5
Asira stood, and as the last Gladiators filed out of the room she stepped out from behind the royal table. She was still surprised at Batair, she enver remembered him making a preposition such as that towards her father. It will be interesting to see how he fights tomorrow, and that other gladiator... Her red toga only dragged behind her a little as she began to make her way out of the room. Her family was close behind as they thought it was time to call it a night. Draai followed Asira and she looked to him, speaking in a hushed voice, "I will get a seperate room for you close to mine. I do not want anyone to think I am weak from the wine." She knew wine could easily put one into a drunken state, and she didn't want her brother or anyone else to try anything (such as killing her) while she slept.
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Post by Kai! Kai! on Mar 4, 2006 18:15:46 GMT -5
Meskhenet found her wya to one of the more seedy looking bars in the city still open so late at night. This place housed some of the more seedy looking characters which include the murderers, thieves, slavers and other kinds of dirt. Smiling she sauntered over ot her usual table nad signaled to the bar keeper who brought over her wine and departed. Sitting with her back against hte wall Meskhenet looked about the room looking for hte assasins who would have contracted the killing of Lady Asira.
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Post by Caligo [Inactive] on Mar 10, 2006 1:59:51 GMT -5
A little gold to some servants and a little stealth otherwise can go a long way.
Asira put Draai in the guest room closest to her own and ordered maids to his needs before returning to her quarters. She closed the door behind her with closed eyes and leaned up against it with a sigh. "Lady Asira," Altair bowed slightly. Her eyes flew open and she found herself pressed against the door in the suprise of someone being in her room, much fully armed.
"You," she put her hand on the handle, ready to run out, "how did you get in here? What do you want?" Naturally, her surprise turned to fear. She was unarmed, this man could want anything, and he had weapons.
"Please, milady Asira, calm yourself," he offered her an empty hand, "I mean you no harm; I only come to see how you are faring - something seemed amiss in that look in your radiant eyes... Perhaps I am mistaken, and I shall be only too happy to leave if you so wish it..." He smiled reassuringly at her, cool confidence and sincerity in this gesture.
"Well," she paused and her hand left the handle of her door, "I..." She shook her head and began walking away from the doors, "There is so much going on, I'm surprise you can see this through my eyes." She smiled from the moonlight flooding in from her window.
Altair bowed slightly again, "Milady, it is my line of work and my life to be able to see what others cannot. It can mean the difference between life and death, especially to one with reputation." Asira bit the inside of her lip. She wasn't used to socializing with Gladiators, especially when it comes to her problems, though perhaps the wine got the better of her.
"Assassins want my head, then they want my family dead." She sat herself on the edge of her bed. "Then my brother loves me more than a sister, which is just," she flicked her hand, it was obvious she was too upset to even talk about that, "and my mother wants to kill my father." The fighter had heard of royal intrigue and subterfuge and the like, but this sounded to him like some spirit of the wine. Asira looked over to him with a frown as her eyes were glassy, "I'm scared of being who I am."
That much struck a chord with the warrior. He held still a moment as the words sunk in. His debonair smile fell to a contemplative frown, "That is... something we must each face in our lives, Lady Asira..." He drew slowly closer to her with his chin in his hand, that elbow in the other, "We are all something afraid to be that which we are... We fear that we will not live up to the expectations of others, that we will fail those that rely on us... Some of us fear that our very lives will end if we err too seriously..." His eyes met hers again in that moment, both sets gleaned over with a glassy shine. Altair broke from her gaze and looked out the window, regaining his composure once more, "I understand completely how you feel..." his voice trailed off in the moonlight. Asira's eyes fell to the floor as well, risking to trail back up to his now turned face. "It is indeed something that we all must face, although some of us face it more directly. Aye, we are the ones that will prosper or fall. We have no choice but to fight for the glory that lies at the end of our treacherous paths, or die in the attempt, then able to rest knowing that we gave it everything we ever had in every moment. That fire, that want of greatness," he turned back to her, again catching her gaze with great resolve in his eyes. A moment of some length passed before he finished, "that is what our souls burn for, and that is what we must vie for each and every day we have before us..."
"So," Asira began, "what should I do? Do about anything that is happening? Take it in stride, fight back to avoid failure?"
Altair smirked in spite of himself, "Gods, if I knew... Personally, I would say have the guards take your brother and mother away... But I am no simple gladiator, My Lady, and I know that this is no more possible than the sun never rising again. In my place, I would kill them myself, but again, you are not in my place... May I," he motioned to a place on the bed next to her. She simply patted the empty space beside her as she considered his second suggestion and the warrior took a seat. "I know not what to do just now... All I can truly offer you is that which has worked for me so far - I fight for everything I get, everything I have, and everything I am. Not just against gladiators and assassins and this road of life, but also against myself. I always try to make myself better than I was the day before, and I never abandon this resolve. In your place, where it would not be wise to overtly oppose your enemies, save the assassins, I might suggest you not wait, but work outside of their sight to strengthen yourself and those you care for..."
She nodded slowly, what he said made great sense and she placed her hand atop his, "Thank you." She slowly pulled her hand away shyly and looked into his eyes, "I never believed I would be taking advice from a gladiator, no offense."
Altair smiled as well, "Well... I could say none taken, or I could say that I am no mere fighting slave, or I could say that my travels across this world have indeed shown me a thing or two, or I could be offended and whimper like a kicked dog," he said with a wide grin, or I could say how perfectly breathtaking you look when you smile... Altair![/i] He shook the thought from his mind as she giggled. That was a first for the warrior - he had seen a great deal of attractive women - as much as a king, or perhaps moreso - but he had never found it crossing his mind even once. This was slightly disconcerting and definitely something to think about over the remainder of the evening.
And as her smile and giggles faded, Altair could see something was on her mind. "Do you have to go back to the barracks now?"
Half in thought, this question, seemingly out of the blue, caught him off guard, and a thing or two crossed his mind, "Uhhh... I, don't go to the barracks, milady Asira; I have a room at the inn as it stands, and no, I do not have to be back at any given time... ...Is there something you wish of me...?"
"Well I..." she paused, "thought maybe you would like to stay in the palace tonight, for helping me."
Altair shifted ever so slightly; his trained exterior not betraying his innermost thoughts, "Uh, I would be pleased, no, greatly honored to accept your offer, milady." He bowed his head to her, his normally placid mind racing with ideas he knew better than to suspect.
It would seem Asira had thoughts of her own, but when she felt her face become heated she stood. "Great! I will, erm... get you a room." she smiled and looked away, her cheeks flushed. She was not good at hiding her obvious thoughts. "I sure there is an available room just down the hall."
"Yes, I'm sure," he said from behind his somewhat closed hand. The warrior found himself biting the finger near his mouth and looking incrediously at her back. His heart and mind raced as his thoughts found creedance in her actions. That would certainly make for a good bit of intrigue, wouldn't it, Altair? Get discovered in bed with the princess and have the entire Roman army hunting you for the rest of your very short life. But, I...! It isn't...! I don't give a damn that she's pretty, I've been gifted with hundreds of women and couldn't care less! It...![/i] His heart and mind calmed somewhat as he thought about it more carefully. Something about fairy tales and and Prince Charmings...
Asira made her way to the double doors of her room, almost hesitantly, she looked up for a moment as she placed her hands on the handles. She seemed to be thinking for the few moments she stood ther, it was then she turned back to Altair, "coming?" Opening one of the doors she made her way into the hall, waiting for him to follow. Only leaving her more time to think things over and over in her mind.
Another shake of his head allowed him to think, "Of course, milady." He rose and followed her through the door, stowing his rampant thoughts as he did so.Asira made her way to the spare room, from her knowledge, after Draai took one of the rooms, this one would be last. And as she opened the door, she saw someone lying benieth the sheets. Closing the door once more she signalled Altair to follow her once more. Back into her room.
Upon shutting the door she sighed, "My apologies, it would seem the gueast quarters are all taken up." She looked to him, "I do not plan on going back on my offer for you to stay the night." she made her way to her window.
"In this entire palace!?" He had suspected guests for other reasons and some important company for the games, but every room?
"This floor is the only available rooms, I already know the bottom floor is filled with rich visitors who pay to stay in luxury for awhile." she laughed and looked to him, "it's pathetic really. Such a huge place and can't even accomadate everyone." she shook her head and looked out the window, "the servents all get their own individual rooms and many others are worthless - have one room simply for statues." Altair again smirked in spite of himself. Now what was he to do? He didn't want to leave, but he knew it wasn't a good idea to stay, either. He didn't want to leave, this much he knew, but he also understood that being found in the princess' room without so much as a guard was not acceptable, either, famous fighter or no. He couldn't possibly remain.
Unless, of course, you have a reason... His sharp mind had acted again. She had taken Draai back with her... Perhaps he held something he could use. "Say, did that man you brought back here have any news? I must imagine he does, as you've put him up here."
"He has offered his services to protect me against assassins who want my head for gold." she turned to face him head on, the moonlight framing her back and shoulders in a glow of white, while the front of her was slightly washed out in the darkness.
"...Hm... ...Well, there goes my excuse..." He noticed his drift from his formal behavior and corrected it, "Well, milady Asira, while it would please me to no end to share your company for this evening, I cannot say that it is in either of our best interests that I remain here this night. I trust your family and servants would look down upon an uninvited and unannounced guest, especially one sleeping in the same room as your highness..."
She shrugged, "I am royalty. Servants cannot come in here unannounced, and I know how to deal with family if for once they showed an interest in checking up on me in the morning. It is up to you, sir Altair."
Damn... Now what? Well, Altair, it's up to you. You haven't battled your entire life for nothing, have you? Why do you fight, anyway... His face fell as that thought crossed his mind. "I..." He looked back up to her, "don't know what to say, your highness. I am greatly honored by your request, and I must admit that I would like nothing more than to accept," he paused for a moment, searching for words.
Asira walked past and slipped behind a large tapestry bordered by wood panels. Behind it she stripped down her toga and proceeded to slip into her silken nightgown. "Please I wish you to stay." Well... A direct invitation was good enough, wasn't it? "Feel free to go back to the inn if you want to..." It was painfully obvious that her tone hinted for him to stay, along with her openly admitting she wanted him to stay, it was hard to pass down.
Yes, it was enough.
"Well, then, milady Asira, I will abide by your wishes. But a small query, if I may - where shall I sleep?"
Stepping out from behind the tapestry in a white gown to her kness, which Altair couldn't help but notice how it shaped to her body. Asira pointed to the king sized bed "sleep on your side, i'll sleep on mine. There is plenty of room." it was true, the bed certainly had no space problems.
"...Mm-hm..." Well, that was the last thing he had expected. "Are you sure, your highness," he said, thanking the darkness for helping hide his gaze following her body's supple curves, "a pillow or two and the floor could suffice..."
"I'm sure, besides a marble floor is never comfortable, no matter how many pillows ye have." she smiled and patted the bed and blankets as well as the many pillows. The bed looked soft, warm and inviting, and he couldn't argue with that. Altair mentally shrugged as he removed his armor, thanking his luck that he wore such comfortable and formal clothes beneath the metal this night. Putting his things out of immediate sight, he then got to his side of the bed and pulled back the blankets for Asira. She smiled and crawled in gracefully, "thank you."
What on earth do you say to a princess that's invited you to bed with no notice? "Good night, milady," was what he came up with, carefully staying on his back on his side of the lavish bed.
"Good night, Sir Altair." Asira held back any temptations as her eyes began to close; her back exposed to him as she lay on her side. He watched her for some time, various thoughts flooding back to him as well as new ones that demanded attention.
Just what the hell was this all about? Some random illusion brought on by the wine? She didn't seem taken by the alcohol, and Altair knew for afact that he was intact. What was this pull he felt toward her? Royalty wasn't exactly his thing although he definitely knew his way around them. It wasn't her beauty... Was it...? He looked at her pristine form in the moonlight, fancying the opaqueness of the silk to be less than it most likely was. The thought crossed his mind of what he could do to her as she lay there in peace. This thought was murdered on sight - it was a sin to even entertain such notions. But what if she came onto him? What if Asira turned over and lifted that slip - No! That was ridiculous! Absurd, even! No, no, sex was out! ...For now... For now? Forever! As if it would ever happen... Agh, enough on that train of thought. What was the real reason he was attracted to this girl...?
He pondered this with little success, his thoughts returning to bedtime stories for children with parents... Sleep took him in its turn, and a battlefield raged within his dreams...
{More later... Just dreaming and char building here. You can post the next day if you wanna}
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Post by Kai! Kai! on Mar 10, 2006 4:24:46 GMT -5
Meskhenet drew her blade quickly across the attackers neck letting his lifes blood spraty against the stpne wall. He sank in her arms and hten felt quietly tothe floor, never ot rise again. Spitting on the body in a show of dislike she wippedh er blade clena and slipped it once mroe inot the folds of her clothing walking with the grace and silence of a cat dow nthe allyway. The was the third killer tonight that had tried ot htake her down. They were all hopeless though, it seemed the Assasin's guild was scraping the bottom of the barrel to begin with and worknig its way up. It would take more then a few lackwits to take down a desert Cobra, her people had been traind from the crib to fight and kill. walking along the street keepnig otthe shadows so she could hide if anyone came from either end Meskhenet recalled the conversatino she'd had with her contact. Information gatherers were expensive and often unreliable, of course those whose information had proven false to her ended up dead this particular rat had yet to dissapoint her. The information her rat had given was very interesting indeed. It seemed there was more going on benieht the intigue of the royal family then met the eye. It was the kind of information she had to hand over to Asira, not because it was vital but because such a warning to that particular possability would be prudent. Forewarned is forearmed. Meskhenet continued through hte darkened streets of Rome backtracking to one of her many entrances inot the palace grounds she slipped past the sentries and returned to her own rooms changing quickly inot her nigth cloths and tucking her night prowling garments and armaments inot the hidden alcove of the passage she used to escape out inot the streets before turning in for hte night. It was close to dawn and the hours sleep she would get after tonights party would have to do.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Come morning Meskhenet who was dressed and wide awake after a cold bath entered Asira personal chambers via the secret passage only to pause with the door ajar to an odd sight. Sleeping on the opposite side that the Lady was, was one of the gladiators Meskhenet had marked as one of the two odd fighters. The sight disturbed her a little but she gave a mental shrug. who Asira slept with was her own bussiness though it never struck her that she was into the well muscled fighter types. Moving with her careful and well trained silence Meskhenet slipped inot the room and place the letter she had written moments before coming on Asiras bed side table before slipping out ofhte room from the direction she had come. The only sound to be heard in the room beside the chirp of birds was the soft click as the hidden door slid back inot place. When Asira read the letter she would be prepared for her visit tonight afteer the household had goen to bed. Ofcourse she woudl also keep an eye out from assasins in the Palace. True a few members of the staff might go missing but Meskhenet woudl enjoy taking the price of thier hides out for hte price placed upon her charges head. Asira was her responsability and she would investigate this gladiator Altair at her convenience. a little truth serum in a glass of wine and hte man would spill every dark dirty little secret he had to her. If he meant no harm he would live but if he did... there were ways to deal with men like him it was a pitty she couldn't do the same to that toad slime brother of Asira's.
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Post by Skye on Mar 10, 2006 19:26:31 GMT -5
Asira slowly woke up as she heard the soft click. Well really, she didn't actually hear the soft click, she simply woke up just as it clicked. As her eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight, she saw she had mail. Sitting up she looked over to Altair where she found him sleeping soundlessly. Picking up the letter she began reading it, she would have to talk to Meskhenet to find out more, and Asira believed she would be suspicious of Altair. She would have to explain why he was in her bed.
Looking over to Altair she studied his handsome face. She had to admit, she had feelings there, but it was confusing. She didn't know what to do, never had she felt this way towards someone, and she knew it wasn't just his face that attracted her. There was something else. Asira didn't know what compelled her to do this, but she slowly reach out and touched his face ever so lightly, running two fingers down his jawbone. Asira pulled her hand away and looked across the room. What if he had woken up? How would she explain touching his face? Peeling the covers back she slowly stood and stretched, pulling the silk down as it was sticking to her body higher up than she would deem appropriate. Damn static material.
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Post by odi on Mar 10, 2006 20:47:30 GMT -5
"Do you all understand your roles?" He asked. The 3 nodded and repeated: "The Contact reveals..." "...The guards we keel..." "...And in our run, with our prize..." The 4 looked at a man in black, who spoke with closed eyes and crossed arms. "Should you miserable lott pull it off, I watch your backs. Should you perish, I secure your prize and proceed." "Very good. We begin in..."
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