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Post by Tristan MacMillan on Sept 29, 2009 14:00:15 GMT -8
Tristan waited for the man to say his name, and then giggled as he leaned forward, recognizing this to sort of be like he was getting a secret. He giggled as he turned his head, presenting Marty with his ear, giggling quietly just at the thought of being told a secret. The man said that his name was Marty and he pulled away, frowning in concentration again. "...Maw-ee..." He said, and then laughed, looking proud of himself. Finally he slipped into the chair on the other side of Marian, his legs dangling over the sides as he smiled contentedly and looked around once again. Finally his attention caught onto the table cloth covering the table and he grabbed at it lightly, not like he was trying to pull it off, just testing the material, chuckling as he did so before giving Marty, or 'Maw-ee' a cheerful smile._________________________________________ Words: 152 Mood: Pretty bad Notes: Sounds good. And sorry, no muse. [/size]
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Post by ``Marian Fitzwalter on Oct 1, 2009 12:36:40 GMT -8
"No, it's Marty, Marrrrr-ty," the outlaw whose name in question (or was that who's name was being questioned?) said after the first mimic, stretching out the syllables with some deliberation to make it absolutely clear how the name was pronounced. However, after the second time around proved to be a failure, Marian decided she'd let it go for now, and fix it later. "Oh, forget it," she concluded.
Whoa, back up a moment. Later? Marty was vaguely afronted; she shouldn't be thinking 'later,' there was no later. This was just a show of compassion from her, and after they ate and she geared herself up for the rain, they'd part ways and never see each other again. Right? Wait, there was no questioning it. Gah! What was she thinking? Was she even thinking? A look at the small kid playing with the table cloth was enough to tell her, quite firmly, that no, she was not thinking at all and probably never would again.
Luckily, before she could fall into an instant depression, one of the inn waitresses walked up and asked what they'd like to eat. The red-head, somewhat agrieved, brusquely ordered two specials, figuring that it was better than nothing, and that Tristan could barely talk, anyways. As the lass walked off, Marian pasted yet another smile on her face, though this one was just as wan as the first one, and just as small.
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Post by Tristan MacMillan on Oct 1, 2009 14:57:34 GMT -8
As Marty started repeating his own name, emphasizing parts of it more, Tristan tilted his head to the side slightly and just stared at him, a smile still on his face. He began to swing his legs absent-mindedly as they hung of the chair, still clutching the fabric from the table cloth in his hands, almost as though it was a sort of security blanket. "Maw-ee," He said cheerfully, before she said something else, something he didn't understand. He just shrugged and grinned happily, once again looking around, this time looking up at the ceiling in wonder. Not that there was really anything special about the ceiling, but for whatever reason it fascinated him.
Tristan stopped and stared at the woman as she approached and started talking to Marty, giving her wary looks. He felt like he wasn't supposed to be here, where everyone was dressed so much fancier then he was, and who looked so much nicer, that he was certain that he was going to be kicked out at any moment. He sort of sunk down on his chair, making himself smaller until he was staring at the woman over the table, though only his eyes and the top of his head was in sight. As soon as she'd taken a few steps away, however, he felt that he was safe and he jumped up, landing on his chair again and breaking out into a fit of laughter, grinning at Marty happily.
His attention was drawn to the salt shaker that rested on the table a moment later, and he stared at it in wonder, frowning at it slightly before he reached out and quickly snatched it up, as though he thought someone else was going to try and grab it before him. He held it up at eye-level, staring at all the white stuff inside, giving it an experimental shake and jumping back slightly as all the white stuff flew up, though he managed to keep a hold of it and not drop it. He grinned then and held it up to Marty, wanting to show him his find. He then shook it once again, shaking it hard, and to his surprise a lot of the white stuff inside flew out, landing on the table._________________________________________ Words: 389 Mood: AMAZINGLY GOOD! =DDDD Notes: =DDDDD TA-DUM! Know what would be interesting? Tristan meeting Will. I wonder how Will would act. But Pip takes so long to post, I doubt that meeting will happen anytime soon xD [/size]
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Post by ``Marian Fitzwalter on Oct 8, 2009 17:04:01 GMT -8
If one were to be of the purely observant mind, ignoring all circumstances, they'd think that the shower of white rain ws actually quite beautiful, the white kernals flickering and blinkering in and out of sight in split seconds that were almost too fast to see. However, it was a rare breed of person that was able to distance themselves from the circumstances, and Marian was no exception.
"Bloody 'ell," she exclaimed, though she was careful to pitch it so that only the boy beside her could hear. It was a mess. A huge, awful, pristine mess that Marian found herself gazing at with a sort of sick sense of horror. She was torn between swiftly sweeping up the salt and putting it away before anyone noticed, and grabbing the kid by the arm and making a run for it. Salt was expensive, and the people would likely frown on those that foolishly wasted it.
In the end, however, hunger and conveniance won out, her urge to avoid the rain and eat a well-prepared, hot meal more imperative than her urge to flee and avoid unhappy villagers. Quickly, she swept the salt with her hands and poured it back into the container that she'd confiscated from Tristan. "No more," she told him firmly, taking the shaker out of his reach with all the intention of keeping a close eye on it.
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Post by Tristan MacMillan on Oct 9, 2009 20:17:28 GMT -8
Tristan looked oddly heartbroken as Marty took the salt shaker from him, and he grumbled unhappily, though a moment later his usual content grin reappeared as he watched him scoop up the salt into his hand and pour it back into the container. He smiled innocently at him as he told him no more, and then his attention was drawn back to the serving woman walking back towards them carrying two plates of food. She set them on the table and then backed off, going off to serve other people. Tristan stared after her, wondering why she was leaving her food with them. That was dangerous, didn't she knew that someone might steal it? Food was valuable, after all.
As the wonderful scents hit his slightly more acute nose, he sniffed the air and turned his attention to the food before him, saliva practically drooling from his mouth as he stared down at it longingly. It was then that his stomach decided to growl loudly, and he whined, almost dog-like as he looked up at Marty, wondering why the woman was torturing him like this by leaving her food in front of him. He wanted to eat it so badly, but he didn't want the woman to get angry at him when she returned for her food. Tristan just sat there, whining slightly with his hands on his stomach, looking from the food to Marty, looking sort of sad and longing as he did so._________________________________________ Words: 251 Mood: Tired Notes: Nada [/size]
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Post by ``Marian Fitzwalter on Oct 11, 2009 18:33:44 GMT -8
When the lady left, Marty reached out for a plate and slid it over toward her, the thick, homey aromas wafting up her nose and sending tingles of pleasure through her body. Good, hot food was a luxory, and the mere smell of it was enough to incite simple happiness. She'd come from a home where hot, well prepared food was a common thing, ordinary, and it was only after joining Robin's gang that she'd learned just how much she'd taken for granted. She'd been a fool, and then some.
She was also at a loss. Tristan, the cute lad, was staring at her with the most baleful eyes she'd ever looked at. They were begging her, as were the sounds the boy was making. For some reason, his tray of food was going untouched. "Aren't you hungry?" she asked him curiously, as she took out her eating knife and began spearing the meal brought forth. The bowl of stew had a crude wooden spoon next to it, and there was a rough hunk of bread waiting to be dipped into the liquid. Marian did so, scooping up the vegetables as well as soaking up the brew, and drew it up to take a bite.
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Post by Tristan MacMillan on Oct 13, 2009 8:26:48 GMT -8
It was all so foreign to poor little Tristan. He'd never, not once in his life gone to a building like this, that looked so fancy and had nice ladies going around talking to people sitting at tables. Never had a lady came over to them and left her food on the table and then went off to go talk to more people. No one had ever trusted Tristan to guard their food, as he expected that was what she was doing. He lived out of the streets, got food from what nice people gave to him or the money that they gave him. He'd long ago discovered that if you walked into some stores that had a lot of food all around, grabbed something you wanted and handed it to a man or woman who was always standing behind a large counter thing and handed them the money, they would smile at you and let you keep the food. Or at least, that's what they did for Tristan. Sometimes they even gave him more food, though he would never get any of his money back. That was okay with him, though. If they wanted it, they could have it...he must have been luckier than them in that sense, because he could always get more.
Now, however, Tristan wished that the woman wasn't so trusting with her food. He was just so hungry. He continued to clutch at his stomach and whine, at least until Marty said something to him and started eating the food before him. Tristan stared at him in shock, wondering why his new friend was eating the nice lady's food. He just continued to stare at him for a few moments, until his stomach growled loudly and he looked down, staring at the food before him, feeling saliva fill his mouth. He decided that there would be nothing wrong if he took one bit of the food...the lady wouldn't even notice, right? So hesitantly he lifted the fork, watching as Marty used it and then using it himself to stab it into the flood, looking around quickly to make sure no one was looking before stuffing the food in his mouth. However, one bite didn't satisfy him...and it just tasted so good, that he found he was taking another bite, and then another, and soon he wasn't able to stop himself, at least not until he'd eaten it all, which made him feel much better.
But he'd eaten all the nice lady's food when she'd trusted him not to. Tristan stared at the now empty plate, wishing the food would come back so that the nice lady wouldn't get mad at him when she came back and discovered the food was gone. Tristan sniffed a few times, looking up at Marty and rubbing one of his eyes, looking sad. He tried to hold back the tears, but the more he thought about how angry and disappointed the woman would be, the harder it became to not cry. Finally he just let the tears trail down his cheeks, crying softly as he looked down at the empty plate._________________________________________ Words: 540 Mood: Not bad <) Notes: Lookie at that! I had muse! =D [/size]
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Post by ``Marian Fitzwalter on Oct 23, 2009 15:06:41 GMT -8
The food was pretty good, as well as one could expect to find in an establishment not under the thumb of the Sheriff and within the bounds of Nottinghamshire. Which was to say, warm enough, rich enough, but not enough, not really. It suited, however, and Marian wasn't one to complain - she'd gone hungry enough as it was, and had come to the conclusion that only a fool passed up a chance at a meal, and a hot one a that.
The boy, on the other hand, seemed to be having some issues. At first he'd tried to not eat the food, the effort so great that it left him squirming in his seat, his hunger obvious to those that cared to look. And then he'd caved in and taken a bite, and then another bite, until all the food was downed with wolfish abandon, a ravening beast feeding after weeks without proper prey.
And just like that, the food was gone, and the boy was sad again, though he was making a valiant effort to stay the flowage. The outlaw wasn't sure why Tristan was sad, and as he grasped for explanations, the most obvious came to mind; Marty was only half done with her own dish, she saw as she glanced down. She wasn't all that hungry, anyways.
"Here, eat," she said, trying to infuse gruffness into her voice as she slid her meal tray carefully across the table to where the child sat. "...Don't be sad," she added.
[/blockquote][/blockquote]
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Post by Tristan MacMillan on Oct 23, 2009 18:26:54 GMT -8
Tristan stared at the food that his new friend pushed towards him, feeling saliva once again fill his mouth. He didn't want to eat it. Why was Marty trying to make him be mean? He stared down at the food, letting out a defeated sigh even as he reached for the fork once more and wolfed down the rest of the food. Tristan felt great afterward, no longer feeling at all hungry. In fact, he felt so full that he felt sort of sick, but it was a feeling that he'd never felt before, and he actually enjoyed it. Of course, that didn't make him feel any better about having eaten the nice lady's food, if anything it just made him feel worse for having eaten more of it. He sighed sadly, though his tears had stopped long ago.
Finally the woman came back, and Tristan flinched backwards in his seat slightly, as though expecting her to yell at him for eating her food. Instead, she didn't even look at all disappointed, just smiled at Marty and said something before taking the plates and walking away. Tristan stared after her in surprise before a wide grin came to his face and he clapped his hands together, reaching out for no reason and patting Marty's hand, wide grin remaining in place as he jumped to his feet, thinking that they were probably leaving now. "Maw-ee..." He said, sounding slightly impatient though he had a grin on his face._________________________________________ Words: 259 Mood: Okay Notes: I figure the waitress just asked if that was all, and Marty would have probably answered yet, right? So the waitress would have taken the plates and left a bill. [/size]
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Post by ``Marian Fitzwalter on Oct 25, 2009 10:30:46 GMT -8
Not long after the food was finished (no thanks to her, she noticed ruefully) the tavern wench that had waited on them returned, saying a few words of pleasantries and then retreating, this time laden with dirty dishes. Something that struck Marian as unusual, as usually patrons just left their dishes on the table - along with money - and then departed; and then that was when the public servants would spring forth and clean.
Ah, well, Marian thought as she slipped her fingers into her purse and then brought them out again, several coins being held. A deft flick of her wrists sent the metal coins flying, and they flipped on to the middle of the table with a muffled clatter. "C'mon, kid," she told Tristan as she stood up. She glanced at the small boy, a slight smile alighting her face again, and then she strode to the inn door, her footsteps silent as she tracked her way outside and back into the street.
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Post by Tristan MacMillan on Oct 29, 2009 14:19:38 GMT -8
Tristan, who was feeling happy once more, was able to take interest in the metal coins as they hit the table with a muffled sound. They were the same metal coins that people gave him sometimes when he begged, the same metal coins that Marty had given him just outside when they'd first met. He wondered why Marty was leaving something so valuable on the table and getting ready to leave. Surely he wasn't going to leave something that could get someone food on a table where just anyone could take it, was he? Tristan got to his feet as Marty did, though he stayed standing beside the table, watching Marty curiously with his dark eyes. He had a small yet oddly questioning grin on his face as he looked from Marty to the coins on the table.
However, Marty started walking away, saying something to him that he could only guess was somewhere along the lines of 'Follow me.' Tristan, giving the metal coins one last curious look, turned to chase after Marty, slipping into step beside his friend and reaching up to take Marty's hand once more, grinning up at him. It was clear that Tristan liked Marty, even thought that he was his friend, and looked up to him. Even if Tristan hadn't known Marty for very long, he'd always been much too quick to start trusting people. Sometimes that person wasn't trustworthy, though Tristan had a pretty good sense of who was trustworthy and who was not. Like dogs, who always seemed to have a keen sense on whether someone was a good person or not. Then again, was it really any surprise? Tristan was, after all, a werewolf._________________________________________ Words: 292 Mood: Headache, and a little sad. Notes: It's been so long since I've felt like replying, but now I do! =D [/size]
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Post by ``Marian Fitzwalter on Nov 1, 2009 19:35:34 GMT -8
So her hand wasn't her own anymore. Go figure.
Where her skin touched his, it tingled, was warm, comfortable, familiar. His fingers were short and stubby, but that would change as he grew older. They were also grimy, though the woman didn't shriek at contact. It was okay. Instead, she let him hold the hand.
Sure, it probably looked funny from the outside view, but what did she care? She was leaving, and probably wouldn't be back until Robin and the gang came along, too.
Oh. Robin. That meant Sherwood. That meant thieves. Outlaws. Brigands and the like. Will Scarlet and his lovely Christina.
Oh, those were not the types of people a small child should be around. Most certainly not. Even she didn't want to be around them, so why should a child wish to be?
Abruptly, Marian halted, squatted down, and looked Tristan directly in the eye.
"Child...Tristan. I'm going to a place where a good deal of bad people teem and swarm. You'll not be wanting to be there, as do I not."
She frowned, slightly, thinking of what words to use, and then plowwed on. "You're not to follow me, you hear? Stay. You, stay, me, go."
She stood up again, her hands free. "Stay," she told him - as if her were a dog - before briskly walking away. She felt bad about it, but she knew it was for the best.
She never looked back.
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Post by Tristan MacMillan on Nov 2, 2009 15:35:50 GMT -8
Tristan giggled and squeezed Marty's hand, holding it tightly as they walked out onto the street, where he visibly relaxed more. That building they had just left had been strange, and he wasn't sure if he liked it or not. It was too...clean. It seemed almost unnaturally so. Anyways, they were out of it now, right? Now it was just him and Marty, and they could go anywhere and maybe play a few really fun games together...like hide and go seek! That was a personal favorite of his. A wide grin came to his face at the thought, and he looked up at Marty, trying to judge whether he would want to play with him. It was impossible to tell, but he figured Marty would play at least one game with him today. Tristan knew they couldn't play non-stop forever...they had to eat and stuff, but as long as he was with Marty he would be happy.
Right as he was thinking that, Marty came to an abrupt stop and crouched down in front of him, so that they were at eye level. Tristan grinned brightly and was tempted to reach out and poke Marty's nose for fun, but he held back, because Marty wasn't smiling anymore. Marty looked sort of serious, actually. Tristan's smile slowly began to fade as Marty began talking, a more and more confused look coming to his face as Marty went on until his head was tilted to the side slightly and he was staring at Marty with blank, dark eyes. His smile had disappeared by then, too. He had next to no idea what Marty was saying to him, at least not until he frowned and started speaking again. Stay? Marty wanted him to stay? Why? Tristan's expression fell and tears immediately came to his eyes. He'd thought Marty had liked him, why was he leaving him now?
And then Marty straightened, pulling his hand away from him, turned and started walking away. Tristan stared after him, just standing there with tears swimming in his dark eyes as he stared after Marty. He wasn't sure what he should do now. He scratched at the back of his head absent-mindedly, glancing around to see if anyone was looking at him, whether someone could help him decide what to do, but no one was looking at him. He looked back at Marty's retreating form, and finally started walking forward, after Marty. He knew that Marty had told him to stay, but he wanted to go with Marty. He liked Marty. Still, he kept his distance, worried that he would be yelled at if Marty saw him following him._________________________________________ Words: 460 Mood: Good! =D *Has muse* Notes: Your next post you should probably make Marian go somewhere less populated and get attacked <) [/size]
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Post by ``Marian Fitzwalter on Nov 11, 2009 17:34:27 GMT -8
Well, what was the quickest way out of Oxton, with the least amount of hassle? Marian contemplated this for a few choice moments before quickly deciding, hell, she just wanted to avoid the populace of Oxton.
Okay, she was not in the best of moods now. Maybe it had something to do with the rain. Or maybe it was related to the fact that she'd had only half of a meal (thought that was still a d*** sight better than what she normally got, these days.) Or, maybe, just maybe, she was feeling a bit sore.
Why, she didn't know. But somehow she had a bit of a heartburn. Oh, maybe it was because she'd left the boy behind, and the look on his face was playing over and over in her mind.
She felt like a horrible monster.
Marian wasn't even looking to where she was going, now. Not really. She was vaguely aware of going from place to place, but she wasn't really paying attention. It was dumb, it was foolish, and it was probably the reason to why she was jumped without her noticing.
She reacted just fine, though, going for the daggers in her sleever and ducking into a fighting stance, tring to identify how many there were, who was closer, and what advantages she might have in this particular location.
There were eight of them. It wasn't fair, not by a long shot. Marian grimaced, and prepared to fight. There was no way she was going to allow a robbery to be committed in her presence - particularily not one where she was the person being liberated of what goods she had.
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Post by Tristan MacMillan on Nov 11, 2009 17:57:54 GMT -8
Tristan followed at a distance, his dark eyes locked on Marty's distant form the whole while, watching in case he suddenly turned around, or looked over his shoulder so that Tristan could duck behind an alley and hopefully not get spotted. Getting spotted would be bad, at least he was afraid that it would be, so he was determined not to be seen. Tristan wasn't doing much thinking as he walked, but that wasn't all that surprising. He was half in a really good mood, and half in a really bad mood. He was in a good mood because he was completely full, wasn't hungry at all anymore, and because the mean had been very delicious. However, he was in a bad mood because Marty didn't want to be with him anymore. It made him want to cry. He already missed the feel of Marty's large, warm hand around his small, cold one. It felt nice to hold hands with someone that he cared about. But now that person didn't want to be with him anymore.
Tristan noticed right away when a large number of people jumped out at Marty, and a smile came to his face despite himself. Marty had a lot of friends. He wished he had that many friends. He stopped when they did, watching as Marty pulled something out of his sleeve. It was only when he was one of the men swing their fist at Marty's face that he realized maybe these men weren't actually Marty's friends, and was instantly alarmed. He didn't really think about what he was about to do, but again that wasn't really all that surprising. Instead he just dived into an alley, landing on his hands and knees where he immediately started the change. His whole body shook as his skin seemed to ripple, and a small whimper of pain escaped him as hair sprouted from his body, and his spine shifted, as did his limbs and his face. And he grew a tail. What was left, only a few minutes later, was a large, black wolf with dark eyes and gleaming white teeth.
Tristan took off running out of the alley and towards where Marty was still being attacked. It was lucky for him that they weren't in a very populated area, though Tristan wouldn't have thought twice about it if they were. Instead he just ran full out, his ears back and his lips drawn back in a ferocious snarl. At the speed he was traveling, it didn't take him long to finally reach them all. He nipped a man's leg as he passed him before running right past most of the men and came skidding to a halt in front of Marty, spinning around immediately, putting himself between Marty and the rest of the eight men. He crouched, a loud, angry snarl coming from his throat as he glared at the men. He wasn't sure if he would actually attack them. Tristan hated hurting people. But these people were trying to hurt Marty, right? He decided that he would just go with the flow, and attack if the men weren't at all miffed at the sight of a large, black wolf coming to the defense of a lone man._________________________________________ Words: 563 Mood: Good <) Notes: Yay, you replied! =D [/size]
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