Yeah, lots of reviews! I feel loved! Keep it coming! I am now addicted, you've created a monster!
A.K. Anomynous- Making out is excellent!
TJ- You shall see...tee hee hee!
Veronica- Indeed! Thanks!
Realtfarraige- I don't think anything would stop a woman from lusting after the knights. It's a natural reaction.
Camreyn- I love your long reviews! Pirates are sexy. Thank you for your appeal to the Gods on my behalf. It is much appreciated!
Mustang Gal- Thanks!
MonDieu666- Do you really want to be asking me what's lame? Would I really know? ( I mean, come on...I know "the hustle")
Goss- Okay, here's some for you!
When Fire Meets Ice- I'll see what I can do about kicking Papay's ass at some point.
Dazzler420- Ah, the romance!
Shallindra- Yes, but then it takes me ten chapters to cover what I can in one. And people get bored. And I get bored. And people stop reading it. I like writing the ensemble stories, as it helps me get themes across better. I'm sorry you don't like it; I'll try harder to make the chapters longer.
Callista Silverheart- I'm sorry, I hope you are feeling better now! Thanks!
Camlann- I was in a sensual mood, and had no chocolate. This was my only outlet, as all of the guys in my school act like complete morons. I can only hope college raises their maturity level. Knowing my luck, it won't!
Some people were curious as to why Habren and Papay randomly start making out. First off, it would be kind of awkward to say, "Hi, you don't know me, but I think you're a fox." That generally doesn't work well. I also wanted to demonstrate their sexual attraction. I think it came across very clearly. That, and that would just be awesome. But, whatever.
'What just happened?' Habren asked herself over and over again. This was not rational behavior. You didn't just go up to someone and start kissing them. Who was it? She had never seen him before; he wasn't part of the village. He was close to Lancelot's age; it was hard to tell in the dark. But he had felt good. Very good. His scent was intoxicating. She had the urge to return to the hill to see if he was still there, but her mother was suspicious already. She curled up on her side, facing the wall of the tent. She didn't want anyone to see her smile.
Tristan lay awake, holding Rebekah close, stroking her back, soothing. He had succeeded in getting her out of her battle gear, though he had the nagging suspicion that she hadn't given much of a fight. Now, her eyes were closed, nearly purring. He loved making her purr. The Woad paint on both of their cheeks was beginning to smear, but she was beautiful anyway.
As much as he dreaded having to sit through his mother talking at him, at least Rebekah would be there to soften the blow. Perhaps it wasn't as bad as he remembered. Perhaps not. He wondered how his father had lasted all these years, silently. He wondered if he ever got a moment of peace. Well, maybe he was seeing so action, what with the bandits everyone kept talking about. It would break up the monotony. He had never really understood his parents' relationship, and that had always bothered him. He was used to being to classify everything and leave it at that, but some people could not be classified. And they were the ones that seemed to matter the most.
Rebekah shifted slightly in her sleep, her legs twining with his. Her content smile widened. She was having a very good dream.
Papay walked back into the bandit camp. He had gone out to the hill, as he did every night, to make sure she was all right, and there she was. He had not really intended for their first meeting to progress in that fashion. Not that he was upset with the outcome, but he felt some basic introductions could have been made. But, then again, how do you walk up to someone and say, 'My name is Papay, what's yours? You are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen, may I kiss you with great passion now?' No, that was not how it was supposed to work. Somehow, their interaction had felt right. He liked the feeling of her fingers threading through his hair. She had a different scent, one that he wanted to smell again. He loved the taste of her. She had been startled at first, but quickly relaxed, urging him on. He wanted her.
His fellow bandits looked sleepily in his direction as he entered the camp. He was usually back before now, what had kept him? His hair was drawn back, but was oddly rumpled, as if someone had played with it. He looked strangely out of focus, like the first time he had seen that wench on the hill...was that it? Some of the men had obviously put two and two together, and grinned mischievously. While some could not add properly and came up with three, they all got the general gist of what had occurred.
"How was it? Did you leave her whimpering?" asked his second in command, Afsati.
Papay glared at him. "That is none of your business. I'm going to bed."
Papay left the circle to the sound of catcalls. Really, sometimes they acted like children. He couldn't sleep. He wanted to see her again. His mind began to churn out ideas for various ways to accomplish this. He could approach her during her morning exercises, but she was so close to the village. Wild ideas of slipping her the herb and abducting her flashed through his mind, but he quickly decided against it. She probably would not appreciate such methods. He could hope that she came to the hill alone again. He could not enter the village. That much was set in stone. He would be spotted immediately and that would put his men in danger.
His band was exceedingly small, as apposed to the rumors that he had a hundred men at his beck and call. In his line of work, there was no such thing as strength in numbers. They needed to move quickly and silently. You couldn't slip herbs into a village with a hundred men behind you. In reality, there were only three others besides himself. Afsati, Magovey, and Angi. They had no need for a new addition, though he would not object to the woman warming his bed. He was attracted to her nature. So few women bothered to learn how to fight any longer. She was intelligent enough to know that they lived in dangerous times, and she would probably need to defend herself and others at some point. She had good reflexes. He wished she had cause to smile more, though. He had never seen her smile. She looked so lost at times; he longed to show her the way out. Someday, he would.
Argimpasa stared at the ceiling of her tent, completely forlorn. She had no future. There were no options. She would exist and then die. She would never live. She would never be happy. As a little girl, she had always dreamed of her prince charming, coming to take her away to the glorious palace in the clouds. She was still waiting. Prince Charming was very late. She had long since given up any hope that he was coming at all. She studied her body. She was curvy, attractive, why did no one else see that? Her mother had always told her that her body would bring her the life she had always wanted, yet here she was, alone. Had her mother lied? She was not around to ask anymore.
Lancelot reached for something in his satchel, and brought out the amulet his sister had given him so long ago. He slipped it over Sera's head, where it came to rest between her breasts. She gazed down at it in shock. Lancelot had been fingering this amulet since she had met him, though he'd never shown it to her before. Now, she saw that it was a wolf. It was rather fitting. Lancelot was a wolf (in sheep's clothing...sorry, couldn't resist) in spirit, and in mind. He looked after his own. For all his charm, he was ever watchful. He was not the empty-headed idiot that some assumed he was. He had treasured this, and now he had given it to her. It was the greatest wedding present Sera could imagine.
Lancelot leaned forward, kissing the soft flesh surrounding the amulet. She would wear it from now on. Perhaps the tribe would leave her alone. Besides, now she could carry a piece of him around with her.
"Thank you." She said, quietly. She rolled him over onto his back, and kissed him.
Aine awoke to find her legs wrapped around a very content looking Sebbi. It hadn't been a dream after all. He didn't think she was unfeminine. Oh, happy day! Sebbi saw that she was awake, and pulled her in for a long 'good morning' kiss. There was something to be said about waking up with a man in your be, Aine decided. Whenever she had slept with men before, it was never for a night. She found that she actually liked the cuddling. No need to tell the world this, however. She had a reputation to maintain.
Dawn saw Habren already practicing. She couldn't sleep, and desperately needed something to take her mind off the nameless stranger who had disrupted her life in such a forceful manner. She was alone, wondering what she was supposed to do about her handsome admirer when she heard a whistle coming from over the hill.
What was making that sound? She frowned, and went to investigate, weapon at the ready. As she crossed over the crest of the hill, a figure stepped out of the shadows, and pulled her further down the hill, out of sight of the village. Habren let out a gasp of indignation, but instantly recognized the hair, and felt the urge to run her fingers through it again. Just as she was about to, he caught her hands in his.
"I am Papay." Good, that was out of the way.
"Habren."
It was a beautiful name. It fit her. He had seen her practice, and couldn't resist luring her here. In the light of the sun, he could now see that her eyes were a deep brown. Sweat was beading at her brow, but it did nothing to dull her beauty. If anything, it enhanced his attraction. Still, the mysterious scent lingered around her. He would figure out what it was.
"Who are you?" she asked, and his grey eyes once again fixed on hers.
"Many things." He said, vaguely, kissing the palm of her right hand.
"What are you doing here?"
"Looking at you." He said, kissing the other.
"Can you not answer a question properly?" she asked, exasperated.
"It depends on the question." He replied, calmly. Inside, he was grinning. This was so easy!
With a groan of annoyance, she jumped up, latching her arms around his neck, and kissed him. If he wanted to be like that...what did she care? He wasn't the only one who could torment.
Papay was startled, but caught her hips, holding her up. Her legs silkily wrapped around his waist. He lazily traced her lips with his tongue. They were delicious. Habren was very aware of her heartbeat, as it pounded in her ears. Again, she was forced to admit to herself that none of this made sense. She was usually a very levelheaded person. She did not simply jump on strangers and kiss them. Yet, he was not a stranger. They had exchanged few words, but she felt as if she knew him.
Eventually, they ended up on the ground, Habren in Papay's lap. Conversation came surprisingly easily. They spoke of her village, though Papay was oddly silent on the subject of his. Habren let him question her though. He had some interesting insight to some of her neighbors. He seemed to know them, and their habits. It was a bit unsettling at first, but eventually, it was as if he was a member of the tribe.
"My brother, Lancelot came home yesterday." She said.
"From where?" he asked, curious.
"Britain. He was sent there by Rome. This was the first time I've seen him for fifteen years."
"And you welcomed him?" he asked, incredulously.
"Of course! What did you think we would do?" she asked, confused.
"Good. He's gone through hell."
She could not get him to speak any longer on the subject. Instead, she told him of the marriages that had taken place the night before.
"So, he married a Briton, did he?"
"Yes. They mentioned something about fighting in a limited skirmish of some sort...something about Saxons. Yet, I found it odd, they have a Saxon traveling with them. He's part of Aine's band."
"So, he's a smart man. Chose a woman who could defend herself. Too many ninnies in this world, if you ask me. I'd like to meet these people." As soon as the last sentence was out of his mouth, he regretted it instantly. It certainly would be interesting to talk to these people, but it was impossible. Now, she would want to know why he couldn't come. He didn't know what she would do with that particular information. He wasn't a violent man, he never hurt anyone, but most people had a problem with thieves. One of those "moral issues" whatever that meant.
Habren was not an idiot. She noticed his silences, when he looked like he wanted to say something, but didn't. He was uncomfortable mentioning anything about his occupation or his home. He hadn't told her why he was here. Yet, he had obviously been here for some time. There had been bandit attacks against her neighbors, but none to her village. She found that to be very suspicious. His clothing wasn't completely ragged, like everyone else she knew. He didn't like talking about Rome, either. And that scent...it reminded her of the herb that her mother used to slip into her paternal grandmother's soup when she got too annoying. Habren had a nagging suspicion about who Papay really was, but if he didn't wish to tell her, he would eventually.
She didn't press the matter, to Papay's rather obvious relief.
"Have you ever fought anyone?" he asked.
"I've fought my mother, but otherwise no. There hasn't been any cause."
It was midday, and her parents would be wondering where she was. She had to get back. She disentangled her limbs from Papay's and stood up. He quickly joined her. He wrapped his arms around her, unwilling to let her go.
"You'll come tonight?" he asked.
"Yes." How could she not?
She kissed him goodbye, though this took longer than originally anticipated. When she finally managed to free her lips, she smiled and ran down the hill, back to her village.
All in all, it hadn't been a bad morning, Papay decided.
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