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Post by Lucy Halacre on Mar 5, 2011 7:32:18 GMT -5
She waited in anticipation to see if he’d note the slight change in her answer. It was such a small thing it seemed almost insignificant, but she could tell by his face that he had picked up on it; had probably wondered why she had decided not to tell him exactly who or what educated her. She smiled easily, as if shrugging the whole thing off, before she gave him her quickly thought-up answer.”It has always been a fine place, Sir Lancelot, or at least, as fine as it can be,” Lucy said enigmatically, ”My family are simple folk, sir, but they know things. Knowledge is far more valuable than an extravagant way of life.”It was the truth, in a roundabout sort of way. Lucy was as honest as a person could be when she had the secret of her magic to protect, but she also was very interested in self-preservation. The things she told people were not lies as such, but she phrased them in such a way that people jumped to a very ordinary conclusion. Take what she had just told Lancelot. Her family were simple, she had said. That was true enough. She considered the druids her family; not able to remember her real parents and sibling. The druids lived in tents, at peace with nature. They were truly simple folk, with an immense power through their knowledge of the world around them. It did not necessarily mean they were magical, though most were, and it certainly did not mean they were dangerous.”I prefer to think of my peddling as optional immunisation, sir. But no, I did not learn that from my educators, my family. They believe in healing for nothing, healing because it is within their power to do so. I share this opinion, but unfortunately one has to make one’s living.”This came straight from the heart, there was no need to shield this. She disliked asking for payment, but it had to be done if she wanted to be around to heal for a long time yet. Anyway, her own life was not important at the moment. Lucy wanted to listen to the Knights problem, not just because she found it interesting but because she wished to help. She’d been right about the girl problems, but this Knight needed to be brought back from his depression. He had a job to do, and it was her duty as a citizen to make sure he wasn’t mooning for his love on patrol.
Lucy had her own experience with lax Knights, and while she took advantage of that, she wouldn’t want anyone else to. Anyone dangerous like evil sorcerers and suchlike. Camelot had a long-standing problem with break-ins and even break-outs. She herself had been leaving and entering Camelot in the dead of night every fortnight or so for four years or so.
She listened to the man with sympathy. She knew how cruel life could be, and it seemed this young Knight had drawn the short straw. At least he had displayed the chivalry that men of his position needed to. He had stepped back, and that must have taken great force and willpower.”I understand, Lancelot, and I’m sure it must be hard to picture loving anybody else. But I happen to believe in the right person for all of us, and if these two are so right together, then there must be somebody out there for you too.”She smiled gently at him, hoping this would convince and reassure him. His was an unfortunately common story, but most people recovered from such an event and moved on to find someone else. She could only hope that could happen for him too.”Hmm,” She mused, ”Well my lunch depends on these beauties, but if I eat with you, that’s irrelevant. I’m sure I can sell more herbs to people who’ve had a bit too much to drink anyway.”Tagged: Lancelot
Words: 659
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Post by Lucy Halacre on Mar 4, 2011 15:45:04 GMT -5
 Lucy clutched her cloak around her in the cold that came with the blackness of night. It seemed silly for her to be stealing through the woods she frequented often by day, but Lucy had certain…errands she had to run. Errands she couldn’t possibly undergo in the vulnerability of daylight. And psychologically, most bandits would probably be asleep now, rather than the stereotypical image of someone who hung around in the darkness for those who dared step foot in such a dangerous place late at night.
After all, nobody came in the woods at night, so who would they be waiting for?
It was relatively easy for her to get out of Camelot. It always was. There was a large guard on duty every three days who fell asleep, guaranteed, at ten o’ the clock on the dot. Thus it was simple to sneak past him and out into the open. When he wasn’t on duty, the rest were either easy to bribe or in the case of a particularly stubborn fellow, a sleeping spell did the trick nicely. Lucy would report the awful state of security if it wasn’t inclined to her advantage.
The girl had henceforth moved stealthily outwards across the short flat and on into the woods. She had nothing with her save the clothes on her body; no basket as was per usual whenever Lucy came here. Her errand? The one that was enough of a secret that she had to journey in the dead of night and magically knock guards out?
She had left Camelot to visit her true peoples, the druids.
Lucy had admittedly a somewhat obscure past to the regular person. It was common knowledge that her family had been killed by bandits when she was less than two years old. She had left Camelot when she was ten, a mere child, and had returned five years later as a woman. The five most important years of her life…they were a blank spot. Nobody in Camelot knew where she had gone, and Lucy intended to keep it that way.
In truth, she had been trying to find her missing brother before the druids found her. But when they had offered to take her in, the tired and hungry young girl had said yes without a second thought. Five years along the line, Lucy well and truly was a druid, and always would be a druid. Even if she spent the rest of her life in Camelot, her heart would belong in the camp. That was where she was headed now. It had been a month since her last visit, and Lucy needed to see her friends and her teachers. To go so long in a magic-deprived place was sickening to anyone vaguely magical, from High Priestess to a Hedge Witch’s baby.
The nineteen-year-old made her way along, the familiar turns taken easily, her stomach full of anticipation. She wanted to be herself again, like she could be with nobody else but people like her. The saleswoman had died the minute she had left Camelot’s walls and she almost felt ten years old again, vulnerable without her façade. But all that would change when she entered the camp. Sweet, attentive, real Lucy would emerge.
Her pace sped up and she hurried along now. Her feet beat a steady rhythm against the ground, but something was wrong. There was another beat. Another set of footsteps. Lucy came to a swift halt. A number of spells immediately popped into her head. It was being so close to the druids. It had bought out the magical side of her. But unless she was very much mistaken she was out of the borders of Camelot now…”Forbærnen,” She whispered, a small flame popping up along the fingertips of her right hand. She swished around the white flames, and the light landed on the face of a startled man. Oh, she had really landed herself in it now.Tagged: Keagen
Word Count: 659
Notes: I am so sorry! It took me forever to get this up! Hopefully it’s worth it  |
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Post by Lucy Halacre on Mar 2, 2011 11:50:36 GMT -5
Congratulations to Leon, Lancelot, Mordred, and Gwaine!
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Post by Lucy Halacre on Feb 26, 2011 13:15:54 GMT -5
Lucy saw the fight in the Prince’s eyes, the pure strength and the pride of a monarch…they rebelled against her order to lie down. Some deeper force, an acknowledgement of her better experience, perhaps, complied. Or it could have been that he was too weak to fight her. She preferred the former; or Camelot was plagued with a stupid Prince. Hoping she hadn’t offended him badly enough that he threw her in the stocks after he (hopefully) thanked her, she relaxed some of the pressure on his shoulders.
He asked her what her name was, and she hesitated. It wasn’t like telling him her name was going to do her any harm, but if he did want to recognise her (which she doubted), having her name would make it easier. Bring her into the limelight. And she tried to tell herself that she didn’t want to be recognised because there was an increased risk of her being caught, but really it was simply because she was embarresed, a humble soul. Surely the Prince didn’t want to acknowledge a woman had saved his life…though it could do wonderful things to her sales.
All these thoughts passed through her head in an instant, but there was only one answers she could realistically give.”Lucy Halacre, your Highness,” She told him. After all, to refuse to answer a question from royalty was like refusing an order. She could really end up in the stocks then. See this was why she stayed out of the way of monarchs…they brought far too many problems and threats.
Suddenly, a pressing problem occurred to her. She had used a simple healing spell, but that would mean that when the Prince took his bandage off to get the injury checked out, they would find no wound. She had to come up with something quickly.”You are lucky I stumbled across you, if I may be so bold, sire,” Lucy began, ”Because I happened to find a herb this morning that is extremely rare and called the ‘Princuss abooba’. It is a strange plant, though not magical…of course not magical. But its strange properties triggers a reaction in the skin and it seals over at lightening speed. A reaction rather like a young boy when he eats too many sugar cane plants, sire.”It was the most stupid thing she had ever spun anybody, she had made up the name ‘Princuss abooba’ on the spot and she was pretty sure a reaction like that was impossible. Nevertheless, she hoped for her own sake that the Prince bought it or her neck would be on the line. Forget the line, it’d be on the chopping block.Tagged: Arthur
Word count: 446
Notes: Well it’s almost the long post I promised you! ;D |
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Post by Lucy Halacre on Feb 19, 2011 12:44:00 GMT -5
The man seemed a little startled about the way Lucy had just taken him to a bench like she had, but that was just the way the girl operated. Strangers were her friends, that was her first rule when it came to selling. Everyone who knew her was used to being suddenly approached by the girl as if they were the best of friends. People gave them odd looks as they passed; Lucy supposed they had never really seen a Knight and a Commoner chatting easily in broad daylight before.
"Thank you sir. I have been educated by..."Lucy paused. She couldn't exactly tell the man she had been taught some simple language by the Druids, "I am a little better educated than most of the commoners in this fine city, sir."
It really was a miracle she had never been caught or betrayed as a magic user. But then again, Uther’s Knights and guards really weren’t the most efficient of men. Really, considering Camelot was supposed to be a majestic city, the security of the place was worse than cow dung! The amount of times Lucy had snuck out after dark to visit her druid friends was abominable, really, and she wouldn’t be surprised if others did the same. It wasn’t really fair to tar this Knight with the same brush though. He looked like a decent sort, something unusual in any of Uther’s men.
He smiled at her, and Lucy had to catch herself before she slipped into the depths of complete unprofessionalism. Not before she grinned back widely though. Gods, he did have a nice smile. It was a shame he was obviously after some woman, or Lucy would be deeply flattered by now and on her way to seeing him in a different light. But his problems needed solving, and the real question was how to do it? Magic was out, way out, and so were herbs. She could try to talk to the girl in question, but that was unlikely to work. Lucy tried to keep her nose out of other people’s business.
Then he explained his problem and Lucy’s heart went out to the man. He obviously truly loved this girl; it was obvious in the way he spoke and the look in his eyes. As he talked, Lucy took the opinion that the girl involved really loved the man she had, or she needed some serious counselling. What woman wouldn’t want this man?
”Of course it doesn’t make it easier for you, Lancelot, what love story was ever easy?” She informed him, ”But I promise, you’re doing the right thing by leaving her alone. One day, you’ll find the right person too, someone who loves and appreciates you as much as you deserve to be. You can find the way, you’re a strong man. I can tell. However not-charming you may be.”
She threw in a smile with the last comment, to show she was only joking.
Tagged: Lancelot
Word Count: 496
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Post by Lucy Halacre on Feb 18, 2011 1:37:00 GMT -5
*Agrees with everything positive ever written about Bruno Mars*
Grenade is just purely breathtaking.
Of course! Have you read the other three Tortall sagas? Song of the Lioness is the best...or maybe Protector of the Small...Agh! How can I choose?
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Post by Lucy Halacre on Feb 17, 2011 11:28:49 GMT -5
YES! I swear nobody knows those books even though they're on every library shelf I have ever seen! So nice to find a fellow fan! *guilty smile about the Bruno Mars thing*
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Post by Lucy Halacre on Feb 13, 2011 11:10:41 GMT -5
The Prince was coming round well and easily, which made Lucy think that this was not the first time he had sustained such injuries. Actually, she knew he had. She remembered him being carried through the lower town by his Knight's once, unconcious and in a bad way. She had never enquired further, but had puzzled over how he had survived such an injury.
Prince Arthur started to move, as if he was trying to sit up. She moved with all the sharpness of someone who had had a lot of dealings with uncooperative patients, and pushed his shoulders firmly down on to the ground."Don't move unless you want to die," She said almost threateningly. The chances of him dying now were slimmer than slim, but it wouldn't hurt to keep him still. After all, he wouldn't know any different. Then he enquired about his injury. Or at least, Lucy thought he did. The Prince could only manage two words."Your injury? I'm a healer and herb seller, from the Lower Town. You were very lucky I had the right kind of herbs on me, it was close enough as it was. Never underestimate herbs," Lucy explained. Hopefully, he would just buy that explanation and leave it. Please.tagged: Arthur
Word Count: 210
Notes: My word counts just get worse and worse don't they? I promise I'll write a really long one next time! |
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Post by Lucy Halacre on Feb 10, 2011 12:35:37 GMT -5
Hey guys!
I'm Alice though I'm happy to just be called Lucy or variations thereof.
I am slightly happy not to be the youngest here, but I am thirteen so I ain't too old.
I am slightly disappointed in our supposed British culture, because I appear to be one of the only people here from England. I am also annoyed about this because if it wasn't for some people's amazing dedication at staying on until the small hours, I would be the only one on most of the time when I am on. 
I own the fattest fish in the world called Prince. We recently discovered, much to my mother's dismay, that fish actually live for around twenty to thirty years. My mother dislikes my fish. Actually, come to it, so do I. He is the first fish in the world to perfect the art of playing dead. Every single person that has ever come round our house has taken one look at the fish and gone 'Alice, your fish is dead.' I used to screech. Now I just sigh, and tap the side of the bowl. One more thing about this fish-we bought it for one pound and fifty pence and so far it's been a lot more trouble than it's worth.
Anyway. I just wrote about fifty words on a fish. I am slightly obsessed by the beautiful French language, and I own a book of cartoons in French. I enjoy both reading and writing, and have nearly finished my first book. I also read books at frightening speeds, sitting on a bench I refused to be budged off. It was pouring rain today in our typical British climate and I sat there on this bench, holding an umbrella, eating my lunch and reading my French cartoon book.
Anyway, that's my life. Right there in that last sentence. ;D
Favorite Animal: Chipmunks? My friends call me Chipmunk because apparently I closely resemble one. My friends are cruel people.
Favorite Color: Green. Vert. Grun.
Favorite Book: Difficult, I think I might have to go with the 'Tortall' saga, or maybe the Alex Rider books. Harry Potter too. I also love The Shellseekers. Ah, well.
Favorite Movie: No idea. Anything remotely funny with no awkward bits.
Favorite TV Show: Merlin, obviously. Primeval I love, but I officially hate the writers for killing everyone off last season. I also fiercely cling on to Wacky Races and Scooby Doo. Ouch, so embarrasing.
Favorite Song: Depends. Anything with decent lyrics. My current obsession is Bruno Mars.
Favorite Food: Chicken and mayo sandwiches. Nothing can possibly beat that, unless it's chicken, mayo and stuffing sandwiches.
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Post by Lucy Halacre on Feb 5, 2011 5:49:36 GMT -5
Sitting on the bench, Lucy started to realize just how much help he needed. He seemed to slouch as though the world, not just the responsibilities of a Knight, weighed on his shoulders. He also seemed grumpy and unwilling to talk about his problems. Although, considering he was a man, the latter really wasn’t that unusual. Still, she could still try to help. She knew most of the women in the City, and that was undoubtedly what was ailing him. Woman problems.
He consented to her help, and Lucy let a small smile creep onto her face. Perhaps it was due to her own slightly tragic past she liked to help and reassure others. For some reason, happy endings were so much better when one didn’t take them for granted, or even better, helped to contribute. "I am Sir Lancelot Du Lac, one of newly proclaimed Knights of Camelot. And you would be ...?"”Lucy Halacre, if it pleases you, Sir Lancelot of the Lake,” She bowed her head politely. Lucy had been brought up to respect all those higher than her in status, and a Knight had possibly earned more respect than a Noble. Knights worked hard for their titles. Particularly this one, it seemed. The new Knights were a source of much gossip amongst the peasants, it was said they were commoners who had fought loyally beside His Highness Prince Arthur to regain the Prince’s throne. Perhaps this Knight was more interesting than the standard burly, non-communicative noble Camelotian Knight. "Very well, and what do you suggest I do for my ailment...will simply sitting on a peaceful bench looking at a pretty young lady be enough to cure what ails me?"At least he was willing to listen to her. Sir Leon Griffiths, for example, she probably wouldn’t have approached, and he would have laughed at the idea of telling a herb girl his problems. At least this Lancelot had some sort of humour left within him, many of the pining men she met would not stop moaning most of the time.”First, Sir Lancelot, I would like to know what exactly ails you, if you please. And just a side-note, I’m not here to be charmed. Just say your problem, and please God don’t tell me it’s man- flu.”Tagged: Lancelot
Word Count: 383
Notes: [/i] |
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Post by Lucy Halacre on Feb 4, 2011 13:16:44 GMT -5
Lucy's eyes were shut tight, her stomach feeling unusually queasy. She was, after all, playing games with the Prince's life... One thing she'd really like to know; how did she get herself into these situations? It had to be some cruel game on fate's part. Okay, maybe that was taking it a little far. Just a little bit. But more seriously, the Prince was taking his damn time coming around. Her fingers twitched, she longed to quickly check his pulse. However, this seemed pessimistic in the extreme, so she sat on her haunches, a strange anticipatory feeling in the pit of her stomach.
Time seemed to still, it was just her, sitting in this cold forest clearing, faced with a dying Prince. The most unusual of things, and yet all Lucy could do was sit and wait for fate to make its verdict. Had she only cast the spell first and not messed about with the herbs, he might of lived...Stop it! She thought to herself. He isn't dead!
As if somehow hearing her thoughts, the Prince’s head moved, if only a fraction. Ceased by some sort of instinct, she grasped his cold, sweaty palm and clasped it tighter than tight in her own hand. Then, as the recovery always started, a groan emitted from the chapped lips of the patient. Lucy let a relieved smile slip on to her face. For a moment there, she’d been terse. For a moment she thought she’d lost him.
The pale eyelids opened to reveal paler blue eyes beneath and Lucy widened her smile into a grin to encourage him.”Come on,” She whispered under her breath, ”Come on!””Morgana.”A flush of anger suddenly came over the young healer. The King’s Ward was infamous, both in the Lower Town and the Druid Camps. The woman wanted to destroy everything Lucy so cautiously nurtured in her life; no doubt Lady Morgana would want to kill her. Straight after trying to recruit her. While the Lady was somewhat admired among the reginades, the killing druids, the real Druids disproved. Killing the King may have been excused. Killing innocent people was most definitely not. Lucy was just lucky she hadn’t been in the crowd that day. Thankfully, her work had called her away from the mass execution.
But her mind had diverted itself, she needed to concentrate on the man in front of her.”No,” She said, firmly answering his question even though it hadn’t been one, ”She’s an abomination...and I am not.””What happened?””I’m not sure about the intricacies, but the long and short of it is that you were shot.”Lucy cringed as she delivered this verdict, hoping he would see the paste and assume that was the reason for his reprieve. If he suspected sorcery was involved, he would tell his father...she would end up with no head. Which would not be a pleasant reward for saving the Prince’s life.Tagged: Arthur
Word Count: 489
Notes: That felt like a really long post, but it really wasn't... |
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Post by Lucy Halacre on Feb 4, 2011 1:35:35 GMT -5
Lucy had come across people in the woods before, but not when it was throwing such a stupendous storm as this. What was she supposed to do? She couldn't exactly tell her that walking in a wood in this sort of weather was damaging to one's health. Hopefully the woman already knew that though. Perhaps that was why all she could see of the woman were two feet and a bush. She had, however, justified her reasoning she was talking to a woman by the fact that the shoes the girl was wearing were quite obviously feminine.
Lucy had never been taught superstitions, her family not really believing too much in them. However, the druids put a heavy emphasis on them, and while Lucy could not or would not follow them, she knew that an elder bush was supposed to bring protection. Her practical side also knew that while lightening might be prevented from hitting the woman, a tree trunk would certainly be having no qualms about squashing a bush flat.
"Sounds familiar," Lucy crouched on the ground, "I'm just doing my job, actually. You know, to pay for my continued life and all. Storms are all part of the day."That was a bit of bravado actually. She had barely ever been in a storm quite as bad as this one. Storms very often passed extremely quickly, and this one had been bothering her for the worst part of an hour."But what are you doing in this wood? I know most people round here, and you're definately not a local?"Tagged: Yassia
Word Count: 264 *cringe*
Notes: I'm sorry, both for the delay and the word count. It's six am though, so I hope you'll forgive me? |
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Post by Lucy Halacre on Jan 29, 2011 2:43:59 GMT -5
Lucy's healing side took over immediately. She jumped to her feet, sweeping holly leaves off her dress to the best of her ability. She ran forward, still clutching her basket to her shoulder, and dropped down by the ailing man. Thank the lord she was at least competent enough at healing injuries, since she was fairly certain it was not a sudden bout of disease that had struck his highness down in the middle of a hunt...
Except, it couldn't have been a hunt. There were no men, unless some sort of creature had eaten them already. There were no horses, no supplies of any kind. Just the Prince, not even his servant was with him. His leather weapons belt flapped around in the wind, setting off an alarm bell without her knowing why. After a minute it came to her, there was no weight to anchor it. No sword, or anything. This looked stranger by the minute. Still, she was a healer, and here was an ailing person, Prince or no Prince.
She turned him over, to see what had struck him down protruding from his chest. A single arrow, stained with blood. Lucy reached for the limp wrist of the Prince, checking for a pulse with urgency. To her relief, one beat steadily. He must have been extremely lucky, for it to have missed all his important inside...bits. Lucy grimaced, she had never been hot on anatomy. The arrow that had injured him was plain enough, which meant that the highest suspects on the list were bandits. Lucy glared at the arrow menacingly, fighting the urge to wrench it out. Her own family had been killed by bandits.
Thank god she had been collecting herbs for injuries when she had stumbled across this. She took her canteen of water from her side and hesitated before seizing the Prince’s empty leather sheath and cutting it in half along the seams with her dagger. If only she had a pottery bowl on her...but for now, this makeshift palette would have to do. She took four of the big herbs, Shepherd’s Purses, and a clove of garlic and laid them gently on the scabbard. She dashed some of her water over the herbs before flipping her dagger and pounding the whole thing with the hilt. Some people would have been shocked at her ignoring the probably dying form of the Prince, but she knew her job and how to do it. Taking out the arrow would increase the blood flow, and that was something she did not want to do.
Soon, the mixture was ready, and knowing she couldn’t delay any longer, she grasped the shaft of the arrow and pulled hard and fast. It came sliding out reasonably easily, although it definitely didn’t make for one of Lucy’s best healing moments. She ripped his shirt open while subtly wiping the few drops of blood on her other hand on his breeches. There was a neat puncture wound on his chest were the arrow had been, and she needed to block it, immediately. She splashed the remaining water from her canteen over the wound and tore enough material from his ruined shirt to bind it well. Tying the makeshift bandage in place with her own cord belt, she took the scabbard with the mixture on and gently poured it over the wound, pressing it to make certain it soaked through.
It took only a few minutes for her to realise this wasn’t going to be enough. The Prince’s breathing had slowed and the pulse was getting weaker all the time. She sighed. Lucy had always known that one day it would come to this. She’d known it from the moment she’d re-entered the walls of Camelot. But her choice was right now. She could use her magic, and risk both her getting caught and the Prince not making it out the other side anyway, or she could sit on this cold, hard ground, and watch the Prince die before her eyes.
There was no choice about it. Lucy swallowed and closed her eyes. She knew a few basic healing spells, enough to cure the Prince anyway. She sighed, and felt the magic build up inside. It was now, or never.” Hámsócn forbærning þes æðeling be sylfum andfangol ealdorlegu andetnes eallwundor ealdormann.”Lucy’s eyes flashed gold as she opened them and the magic rushed out to start it’s work on healing the Prince. Now all she could do was sit and pray. Tagged: Arthur
Word Count: 751
Notes: I had fun with that spell! This is the actual meaning: Please heal this Prince because of his destiny thanks very much. Anyway, sorry it took so long! [/i] |
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Post by Lucy Halacre on Jan 22, 2011 8:58:07 GMT -5
The trees were swaying ominously in the high winds that had graced the forest. Torrential rain unleashed it's anger, drenching the forest grounds, turning the firm soil into a quagmire of mud. An occasional 'crack' echoed through the forest, and it wasn't always the flashes pf light from the sky. An aging tree snapped at it's roots and fell across a path with a loud thud. The Forest of Ascetir was haunted by a horrendous gale.
You'd have to be mad to be out strolling in this weather. But the young girl, soaked by the rain and making her way cautiously, was not by any means strolling. She glanced up at the rumbling sky every so often in fear, but kept going, her rumbling stomach her only motivation.
Some people, most likely nobility, would dismiss herb gathering as the simplest sort of work, yet they had no idea of the true hazards. Bandits, wild animals, extreme weather conditions...this job had them all. Why, just the other week, the young girl had nearly been trampled by a startled gizelle.
Yes, there were many, many occasions when Lucy Halacre wished beyond all imagination that she had never began to trade in medicine. Why hadn't she been a seamstress instead? She knew of at least three seamstresses in Camelot, they probably had their feet up in front of a burning fire right now. Warm and toasty. And she was here, in this boggy forest. Trying to collect herbs that had probably already been drowned.
She grimaced as she stepped over the trunk of a fallen tree. If she had set out ten minutes earlier, perhaps she would have been squashed beneath that heavy trunk. She spared a glance at the towering trees, then shook her head and carried on. No use lingering over fallen trees and 'what ifs?'
Lucy was just about to give up and head home because of the distinct lack of plant life, when she heard a muttered curse. Wondering who could possibly be crazy enough to venture out, apart from her of course, she moved towards the voice.
Pushing aside a thicket of gooseberries, she saw a woman she didn't recognise.
"What in God's name are you doing here?"Tagged: Yassia
When: Late Winter
Word Count: 372 |
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Post by Lucy Halacre on Jan 21, 2011 15:20:45 GMT -5
Lucy wandered around the trees in the Forest of Ascetir. Her feet took her carefully along the downtrodden path, navigating carefully around blemishes in the rocky ground without their owner looking down. She knew the paths in this forest like the back of her hand, considering she came here every week to gather her herbs. Twice a week, sometimes, if business was good and illness was flourishing in the Lower Town. It was a cruel thing to wish for, sickness, but Lucy had learned long ago to just accept the peculiarities of her job.
Today she was out for Garlic, which kept most infections down. The new Knights, the commoners His Highness Prince Arthur had enlisted, may not be permitted the Court Physician's aid and if that was the case, she would be on hand. She was also collecting Capsella bursa-pastoris (or Shepherd's Purses). Those herbs were better internal healers, but still did a very commendable job on outside scrapes and scratches. If only disease was rife and she didn't have to resort to these injury healings!
She had just stooped to the ground to pick up a stray clove of garlic for her basket when an echoing shout hit the clearing. Lucy froze, and the grip on her basket tightened. She had once had the unpleasant job of cleaning up a group of druid's injuries after they had returned to the camp having encountered a group of bandits. With natural magic on one side and ciolence and cruelty on the other, it was a close call, but the Druids were succesful. Most had returned in mutilated forms, and Lucy had made herself useful carrying out menial tasks for the healers. The cry of severe pain had been forever embedded in her memory and it had been revisited many times since.
That loud sound was a cry of pain. She had never been more certain. Her left hand, the one not holding her basket, fumbled for the hilt of her small dagger (only madmen went around with no weaponry) and she knew she might need it. Sighing, she slung her basket over her shoulder, knotted her skirts so they wouldn't get in the way and set off at a fast pace towards the direction of the cry.
She would have gotten lost, but another yell steered her in the right direction and after two hundred or so paces she spotted a red trail on the ground. Grimacing, she swiped a finger over the liquid and dabbed a tiny amount in her mouth."Human," She said to nobody in particular, wiping her staining finger on her already torn dress. That would need a wash when she got back home. Assuming, she did get back home and whatever had got this person didn't eat her too. Focusing again, she followed the steadily increasing trail of blood around a few trees and bushes. Eventually it stopped, disappearing right in front of a holly bush.
Lucy sighed. She wasn't going to come this far and not find out what was going on, if she could help. She braced herself, and then shoved her way into the bush, biting her lip to stop herself shrieking when the sharp holly leaves tore at her skin. The world was a blur of green for one confusing moment. Then, with a grateful sigh, she fell forward onto the bare ground concealed by the holly bush."Thank god that's over," She said, relieved. Then she looked up.
Before her lay the sprawled and moaning figure of His Highness, Prince Arthur of Camelot.Tagged: Arthur
Word Count: 593
Setting: Just after Series 3
Notes: Sorry this took so long to write, muse would not let go! |
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Jun 18, 2013 2:46:55 GMT -5
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Post by Lucy Halacre on Jan 20, 2011 16:00:17 GMT -5
Her spirits fell at his words, there it was again. Rejection. Again. Maybe prosperity was good for Kings and most of the population, but for Lucy it was bad news. It meant the fall of trade. Without sickness, her own health was compromised. Listening to the rest of the Knight's words, Lucy frowned, now personally interested. The saleswoman inside her had rolled her eyes and taken a kip, the real Lucy was interested.
Woman trouble. Practically a certainty. That was the issue with the strong, silent types. They just couldn't stay away from trouble. And trouble in woman terms meant a broken heart, an affliction this Knight looked like he was suffering from.
Lucy bit her lip, "My herbs may not be able to help," She said, leading him over to a nearby bench to sit down, "But you'd be surprised at how helpful I can be. And that wasn't boasting," She added quickly, a flush rising along her neck.Blast it all, why could she never keep her nose out of other peoples business. And just then she had practically implied she had magic! Would she never learn? What was she thinking?! Not forgetting he was a Knight of Camelot! A magic-destroying nation!
Lucy took a deep breath, calming herself down, like the druids had taught her, mentally soothing her mind. If she got caught...well, she'd always expected it to happen one day. Perhaps now, her number was up. And she'd take it willing. It would be her own fault, really.Tagged: Lancelot
Word Count: 334
Notes: *cringe* Sorry for the horrendously low word count, on the horrible delay on this post. My muse has escaped the fantastically disgusting British weather to go and holiday in the Caribbean. |
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Post by Lucy Halacre on Jan 15, 2011 16:00:24 GMT -5
Traders called out to her as she passed, but Lucy smiled and shook her head. She had her own sales to make today. Her welfare for the next week depended on the aging straw basket she held loosely at her side. The hundred or so herb packets she had carefully gathered from the woods should leave her with enough food to live on, providing they all sold. But it was late summer, and bouts of illness were as dry on the ground as the cloudless blue sky.
That was the problem with being a herb trader. Working the summer was so much easier, but illness was scarce. Working the winter was tough, very tough. But the likelihood of waking up ill was as high as going to bed freezing your toes off. So business was almost ridiculously easy. Sometimes, Lucy regretted ever taking an interest in herbs.
Still, today felt good. She had all sorts of cures, from boils to an inflammation of the throat. Somebody had to be ailing somewhere! Deciding that if she carried on looking benign and an ordinary scurrying peasant, she'd never sell anything, she started to approach people. By ten, she'd sold absolutely nothing. People were too busy basking in the late summer sun or stocking up for the first days of Winter to take an interest in buying remedies.
Lucy sighed after being turned away yet again from a pale, sickly-looking man who looked like he needed what she had. Apparently, he was at 'the peak of health'. She'd seen rear ends of cows that looked more healthy. Time to try her luck elsewhere, perhaps? Just as she was turning to leave for the poor areas of town that were more likely to be nursing sickness, something caught her eye. A flash of bold red.
It wasn't that uncommon in the Market, to see that red cloak. It only meant the guards were on patrol, but still, Lucy panicked a little. If anyone discovered her fatal secret, she was toast. Quite literally. But perhaps the Knight was in need of a cure?
Deciding her lunch was more important than a minuscule chance this Knight would drag her up in front of the King because he had some mystical magic sensor (which was, quite frankly, ridiculous), she headed towards him over the cobbled streets. "Excuse me?" She asked, tapping him on the shoulder, "Would you like to buy a remedy?" Tagged: Lancelot
When: After Series 3
Word Count: 494 |
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Post by Lucy Halacre on Dec 23, 2010 16:52:08 GMT -5
 | ~ • ~ | Character Basics | ~ • ~ |
.:Name of Character:. Lucy Antoine Halacre
.:Nick Name:. Lucy, Luce, Lu
.:Age:. 19
.:Status:. Peasant/Citizen
| ~ • ~ | Appearance | ~ • ~ |
.:Physical Appearance:. Lucy has soft, sleek brown hair which falls down to her back. Her eyes are a light grey colour which isn't easy to forget. She wears the clothes of any other Camelot peasant, tatty dresses of neutral colours, but she has a prouder posture than the rest and somehow her clothes fall differently. She is healthy and fit, with a slim face and stature. Her skin is milky and usually has a healthy glow, because of the herb pastes she sometimes uses on it. Her facial features are defined, and she has prominent cheekbones. Overall, she is a pretty girl who some would say was 'wasted' working on the Market herb stall.
.:Height:. 5"4
.:Portrayed by:. Michelle Trachtenberg
| ~ • ~ | Personality | ~ • ~ |
.:Personality:. Lucy is a creature of magic, and has various loyalties and various qualities that sometimes contradict one another. She can lose her temper and direction, but ultimately, she is a very good, kind person. Her loyalty is and always has been to Camelot, to her friends, but Uther's hatred of people like her puts her in great conflict at times. She is also loyal to the druids, with whom she has good relations. Lucy believes herself and the druids to be more natural in their magical ability, and she has helped and been helped by them many times in the past.
Nevertheless, she is happy in Camelot and would never think of permanently leaving, unless her life was at stake. She knows the people of the Lower Town, they are her family and her friends. She has a comforting pattern in her days, something Lucy knows will not last forever, but when the day comes when she is discovered or betrayed, she will take the consequences, knowing that she has brought them upon herself.
Above all, Lucy belongs in the woodland, a place which she makes her living from, but could and would easily call home. She gathers her herbs from there and sells them fresh from her market stall.
.:Strengths:.
[-] Herbs and Vegetation-----Lucy considers herself an expert on such matters.
[-] Healing-----Lucy can use a combination of her magic and her herbs to heal people better than most.
[-] Hearing-----Lucy is a better listener than a speaker. She will happily aid people, both physically and emotionally.
.:Weaknesses:.
[-] Relatives-----Lucy has locked memories and emotions of her family away deep within her mind and it is painful for her when somebody so much as mentions them.
[-] Rathorson, Maie-----Somebody who looked after her for a long period of her life, Lucy never quite settled her lot with her. She feels guilty about Maie.
[-] Recognition-----Lucy is a very humble person, and is embarrassed when somebody recognizes her.
.:Magic Abilities:. Lucy practices simple healing magic, which she cautiously and occasionally puts into herbs when the situation calls. She has a larger potential to expand her abilities, but is happy using it quietly for good deeds.
.:Special Skills:. Healing
.:Accents:. Lucy speaks in the usual manner of every good Camelot citizen.
| ~ • ~ | History | ~ • ~ |
.:Birthplace:. Lower Town, Camelot
.:Family:.
Mother-Amretta Halacre, deceased
Father-Diono Halacre, deceased
Brother-Mirao Halacre, missing, presumed dead
.:Occupation:. Herb Trader
.:Current Location of Residence:. Lower Town, Camelot
.:History:.
Lucy was born on the 25th of January, to blacksmith Diono Halacre and seamstress Amretta Halacre. The young couple were popular in the town and their young son and daughter no less so. Lucy grew up in an ordinary home, where both parents tried to make ends meet. Diono was a reliable blacksmith if the Court one was unavailable or busy. Amretta was a skilled seamstress that received commissions from almost every Lady in Camelot.
One day, when Amrettta received a commission from a Lady that was willing to pay extra for exotic fabrics, Diono decided that the whole family could use some exposure to culture. Lucy, at the tender age of one and a half, was far too young for the three consecutive days of travel it would take to reach Mercia. She was left behind with a close friend of the family.
Four days after their departure, a trio of Knights from a Camelot patrol returned bearing the bodies of Lucy's mother and father, along with a wandering trader sometimes sold his wares at the Camelot market.
Mirao's body was never found.
King Uther was informed of the orphan child, but it was eventually the woman she had been staying with who agreed to take her in. To call the woman, Maie her name was, blunt or strict would be unfair. But Maie was at the age of attracting a husband and having an infant slowed her down considerably.
One day, when Lucy was ten, everything came to a head. Maie, sick of having to provide for two people without a man, and becoming penniless, she too it out on the only person she could. Lucy.
The young girl took the words to heart and ran away, believing that Maie no longer, or maybe had never, cared about her. She was attempting to find Mirao, her long lost brother. Instead, she found the druids.
The druids didn't see Lucy as the lost, grieving young girl she was. They saw only what she would become. Seeing as she had nowhere else to go, they cared for her, and tutored her in magic. The druids took a much more educational and slow route to teach her, like with other druid youths. They taught her how to write and read both in the common language and the Old Tongue, how to distinguish a Weevil from a Wyvern, how to make full use of all of nature's gifts.
When she was fifteen, she made a decision, helped by her druid friends and the Elders. She knew a little magic, but nothing near her full potential, and she also knew that if she was going to go back and prove herself to Maie and Camelot, now would be the time. It was hard leaving the camp, where she had belonged for the last five years, but Lucy was confident that she would one day return to do for others what the druids had done for her. But first, she had to repay her ex-guardian.
When she returned to Camelot, she entered the old house only to find nobody living there. The first person she went to was a young niece of Maie's, maybe the only person left in Camelot who she really knew. The niece told her that after she had left, Maie had just wasted away, before eventually succumbing to disease. It was obvious that the niece blamed Lucy for her aunt's demise, and Lucy understood, even slightly shared her viewpoint. The girl had blood on her hands, however much people would tell her it wasn't her fault.
Lucy was completely penniless, with nowhere to stay except the house she had grown up in, but it wouldn't feel right living there. The niece, as Maie's only family, had the rights to the house she didn't know what to do with, and even if she blamed the fifteen-year-old, she gladly handed over the problem to Lucy. With the reluctant help of the niece, she sold it to a young couple and had enough money to keep her going for a while. She was faced with the problem of where to stay, but that was soon solved by a once close childhood friend who had just bought a small house in town. Lucy agreed to live with her and pay rent every month.
She didn't know why she stayed in Camelot, especially with Uther thirsting for magic-users, but her instincts, carefully honed in her time with the druids, told her it was the right thing to do. Lucy settled in Camelot, setting up a stall to sell herbs and medicine, taught to her by druids. She is happy there, and has established friendship, loyalty and familiarity there in the last four years. She now has a place of her own, and lives well under her own income.
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