" I've got nothing left to lose, besides my life," Herja said thoughtfully. " Please, do what you will with me, and I will be indebted to you." Herja lowered her eyes, a bit embarrassed to need any help at all.
*The Verge of War* A Medieval Rp
- Thread starter CrazyChickLady7
- Start date
" I've got nothing left to lose, besides my life," Herja said thoughtfully. " Please, do what you will with me, and I will be indebted to you." Herja lowered her eyes, a bit embarrassed to need any help at all.
Katrina nodded and turned to leave. "I'll be back soon with what'll be needed ta clean it," she said.
Herja nodded, leaning back against the stable wall. She pondered her situation. Would she ever make it back to see her kids again? How would she repay the kindness shown by this stranger? What kind of warrior is conquered by lack of sleep and a horse? She sighed wearily.
- Jun 15, 2015
- 1,709
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(Hey all! Can someone catch me up real quick? I'm gonna try and get going with this again...)
(Madam!!
e Everyone's at the ball still. Fawn and Lsky/Athaid's character, Alfric, got stuck in some tunnels in the castle but they're out now. Crazychick's prince is in mid convo with your Cedric, I believe, and Jane was talking to Cliffton. Bantambird's character, Herja, is injured and in Edinburgh stables and Katrina is tending to her. I think that's pretty much it 
)
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Katrina made her way through the castle, without any incidents, and to the long room she shared with several other maids. Because Herja wasn't a guest or resident of the castle, Katrina didn't think it right to peruse the apothecary for medicines, thus the reason she went to find her own salves that Anna had given her.
She dug around in the canvas cloth that contained her few belongings until she found what she needed.
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Herja played with her hands in the dark, trying to see her fingers wiggling in her lap. Exasperated, she sighed, then leaned back against the wall again.
Katrina shoved two bottles as far as they would go into her apron pockets, then put the bag back beside her cot. On her way out of the castle, she grabbed a bucket that was sitting, unnoticed and unused, in the corner of the kitchen, and headed out once more to the stables.
His mother was eating in the solar, he could hear the sounds of womens voices through the door, the clinking of china cups and dishes. He knew they'd be eating hot cakes and drinking tea, which made his stomach rumble, but he knew better than to disturb them. Besides, they always wanted to pinch his cheeks and muss his hair, and tell him how handsome he was. So he walked passed them, down the hallway, following the smell of baking bread. It smelt like warm fires and chilly mornings. He breathed it all in and sighed. As he approached the kitchens a girl ran past him, laughing. She was a swirl of long blonde hair and crimson silks, and she smelt sweet as summer. He began chasing after her, shouting and laughing, a huge grin spread across his face. But his legs were shorter than hers and he couldn't catch up. They stumbled through the kitchen, knocking down bags of flour and grains, their faces red and their breathing ragged. Alfric snatched up a freshly baked roll just as the cook whirled around to grab him. He dodged her expertly and ducked beneath the table, juggling the hot roll in his hands. The girl darted from the room and Alfric followed, the cook waving her rolling pin at them and telling them how much trouble they would be in when their father heard about this. He never would though, everyone knew that cook was as soft hearted as dough. He turned and made a face at her, taking a huge bite of the bread to show her just what he thought of that idea.
Farther and farther they ran, down the hallways, passing lines of doors and windows, laughing and smiling and howling like wolves. Then they were in the glass garden, a forest with a ceiling. He followed her on and on, catching a glimpse of golden locks here, a glance of red fabric there. Until he was worn out and had to stop for breath. He lost sight of her then, standing in the gravel, panting, his hair plastered to his forhead. He span around and around but all he could see was green. Vines, flowers, trees, vines, flowers, trees, vines.. His head was swimming when he heard it. The scream. He ran again then, the beating in his chest getting faster and faster as the shouts neared. They weren't playful shouts. Men, arguing, someone crying, but where? He span and turned, and jumped, but he couldn't see above the tables of plants, couldn't see the way out. He was about to sit down and cry for his mother, when he came to the end of the row. He paused and looked around. At the end, where the garden joined the courtyard, his father was standing, surrounded by men. One of them was holding the girls arm as she cried for him to let her go. When he called out to him it wasn't his father who came, it was one of the men who had been shouting. He turned and rushed towards him, saying things he couldn't understand. Alfric didn't recognise him, but he seemed to recognise Alfric. Then it was his turn to be chased, the roll fell from his hands as he ran, tears welling in his eyes. It wasn't fun anymore, he didn't want to play, he wanted his mother. The man smelt of sweat and smoke, and his hands were strong and rough. They wrapped around him and he was swooped up into the air, screaming and shouting. He tried to hit the man but someone else had his wrists restrained.
"Don't 'urt 'im" he heard one of the voices growl. "The king wants 'im in one piece."
Then he opened his eyes and the voices were gone. Replaced by the gentle crackling of wood.
Farther and farther they ran, down the hallways, passing lines of doors and windows, laughing and smiling and howling like wolves. Then they were in the glass garden, a forest with a ceiling. He followed her on and on, catching a glimpse of golden locks here, a glance of red fabric there. Until he was worn out and had to stop for breath. He lost sight of her then, standing in the gravel, panting, his hair plastered to his forhead. He span around and around but all he could see was green. Vines, flowers, trees, vines, flowers, trees, vines.. His head was swimming when he heard it. The scream. He ran again then, the beating in his chest getting faster and faster as the shouts neared. They weren't playful shouts. Men, arguing, someone crying, but where? He span and turned, and jumped, but he couldn't see above the tables of plants, couldn't see the way out. He was about to sit down and cry for his mother, when he came to the end of the row. He paused and looked around. At the end, where the garden joined the courtyard, his father was standing, surrounded by men. One of them was holding the girls arm as she cried for him to let her go. When he called out to him it wasn't his father who came, it was one of the men who had been shouting. He turned and rushed towards him, saying things he couldn't understand. Alfric didn't recognise him, but he seemed to recognise Alfric. Then it was his turn to be chased, the roll fell from his hands as he ran, tears welling in his eyes. It wasn't fun anymore, he didn't want to play, he wanted his mother. The man smelt of sweat and smoke, and his hands were strong and rough. They wrapped around him and he was swooped up into the air, screaming and shouting. He tried to hit the man but someone else had his wrists restrained.
"Don't 'urt 'im" he heard one of the voices growl. "The king wants 'im in one piece."
Then he opened his eyes and the voices were gone. Replaced by the gentle crackling of wood.
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