ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ ᴏғ ᴍʏ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ, ʙᴏɴᴇ ᴏғ ᴍʏ ʙᴏɴᴇ (private w/ hanzo)

This is an archived version of FeralFront. While you can surf through all the content that was ever created on FeralFront, no new content can be created.
If you'd like some free FeralFront memorabilia to look back on fondly, see this thread from Dynamo (if this message is still here, we still have memorabilia): https://feralfront.com/thread/2669184-free-feralfront-memorabilia/.



    *:･ﾟ✦ JULIA DELACROIX

    —— they all need something to hold on to | x x x *:･ﾟ✦


    Julia stepped forward reluctantly with a coy smile upon her face. She felt naked amongst everyone around her; the women wearing corsets and skirts apon skirts while the men wearing their kilts and jackets. "Hello." She answered, watching the older lady place her hands on her hips in front of her. A ball began to form in her throat as she was eyed over, and she knew because of her accent she was most likely going to be turned away. "Well, Julia." She started, having no indication of expression in her voice, "Come with me. We shall find ye somethin' to eat, and something to wear that's a bit more...well, a bit more." Mrs. MacLennan motioned for her to follow, and began turning - but stopped when Julia piped up. "Wait! What about him? He's been shot." She stated, looking at his arm. "I bandaged his arm and abdomen, but I wasn't able to clean or dress it properly. I must tend to it before it gets infected. I mean inflamed. You know, with fever and swelling." The English girl felt tiny once again as the woman was looking at her like she had two heads; like Uisdean had mere hours ago. She gulped. "Aye, I ken fine what ye mean. Does that mean ye know what to do, then? Are ye a Beaton?" Mrs. MacLennan questioned, her head cocked to the side slightly. Julia nodded, looking at Uisdean then back to her. She nodded once, then motioned them both to follow her. "Ye heard the lady. Come along now; afterwards we'll get ye both cleaned up and fed. "


    Julia gently took off Uisdean's bandages in front of a glowing hearth in one of the many rooms of the castle. She finally had all the resources she needed to not only re-bandage his wounds, but to sew them up too so they could heal properly without major scarring. After triple-checking to see if she had everything, she walked around to his side and stopped. The man's back had clearly been flogged; long welts of scar tissue ran up and down his back like the stripes on a tiger. She placed her hand on his scars involuntarily, disbelief at how someone could've done this flushing her cheeks red with a gentle pity. Her mouth hung open to say something to him, but no words escaped her lips.







    "Speech."


    *:･ﾟ✦Ùisdean Mackay

    —— Teann a-nall 's thoir dhomh do làmh,

    Is bheir mi sgrìob do dh' Uibhist lea.|*:･ﾟ✦


    Ùisdean had began to carry on with his own business of paying Hamish a visit, when Julia's voice stopped him in his tracks. He turned on his heels and glanced between Mrs. MacLennan and the English woman, he found the exchange to be quite interesting.

    The head housekeeper was a good woman. The rugged Scot knew fine that she'd treat the other woman right, as she did with just about everyone. He locked eyes with the her and shrugged his good shoulder, as if to say 'what harm can it do?' The stout woman seemed to agree and urged the pair to follow her. With an amused huff, the man took step behind Julia.


    Once again, Ùisdean stood half-naked in front of this mysterious woman. Mrs. Maclennan had taken his bloodied clothes to be washed and mended if possible. She'd also kindly leant him some cleaner things to wear, though he'd found it hard to part with his clan's hunting tartan. "A'm beginnin' t' think this is turnin' intae a habit." He teased as she stepped out of his view.


    A shudder racked through his body. He felt her fingertips lay gently upon back. Damn. He'd forgotten just how dark the bothy had been compared to this room. It was now as clear as day to see his disfigured flesh.

    Ùisdean rolled his left shoulder in a display of self-consciousness. He imagined that her opinion of him would probably change. Only criminals were flogged.

    He cleared his throat and ran a hand through his beard,"T' was a couple a years past. Doesnae hurt anymore."

    The man wasn't quite telling the truth there. They did still hurt, though not physically.


    "They, eh, used tae call me 'n D-" He pause to deeply consider what he was telling her, before he started again. "A wis a bad lad. Still am. A fish caught up in a net o' my own makin'." Ùisdean chuckled, though he didn't find his words to be funny at all. He continued to toy with his beard for a moment. Part of him was urging to trust her, the other half screamed against her.

    "Locked me n' my brother up in Fort Augustus, forced our clan intae choosin' our fates 'n beat us senseless fae days 'n days." Forest green eyes glazed over at the memory. Domhnall had always been a cheeky little shit. If he hadn't have broken the nose of a redcoat captain then Ùisdean himself would've been hung first. How cruel fate could be at times. Domhnall had only been twenty.


    "Speech."


    ooc:

    plot ideaaaaa!

    this 'broken nose captain' could become a central character maybe? out lookin for uisdean!



    *:･ﾟ✦ JULIA DELACROIX

    —— they all need something to hold on to | x x x *:･ﾟ✦


    Julia's heart lurched at his words, an intense mix of emotions overcoming her like a wave. She had forgotten just how brutal the British were to the Scots in this era; and, actually seeing it firsthand, made her want to throw up. She stayed silent as he spoke, letting her hand linger on his back a moment more before moving it away. Yet again, words failed to escape her lips; she had never really beared witness to anyone that had been flogged before. The woman began to gingerly unwrap his shoulder, the only noise being the crackle of the wood in the fireplace. "Why did they lock you up?" A sudden realization of how forward she was being dawned over her, and she stopped unraveling the fabric to look at the ground in slight embarrassment. "Sorry, that was really forward of me. You don't have to answer that." She continued with her work, repeating the process of undressing and cleaning with alcohol before she grabbed the needle and thread. "This will hurt again." The young nurse did her best to sew as gentle and efficient as she could, trying not to hurt him too much - even though she knew it hurt.

    About an hour passed as Julia cleaned him up and stitched his wounds, and the girl put down the blood-stained cloth she used for her hands and straightened her back and neck in a stretch. "There you go - good as new." She finished with a smile, running a hand through her soft, brunette hair. The girl was tired; but she knew she had more to do after she left the room. She examined her ring for a second, overlooking it to make sure it hadn't gotten blood on it. After standing for some time Julia had suggested they sat down, and she was now sitting across from him with the fire still warm on her right side. "I'll have to change the bandages a few more times until it's sufficiently healed, so don't go too far for the next few days until I find a ride to Inverness." She chuckled, her head tilted to the side slightly. The light from the window cast a cool gaze upon his back, outlining him with the colours of an afternoon sky. The fire illuminated his face and bare chest, making him look like his skin was bronzed and soft to the touch - but resisted the urge to reach out. She felt the hot blush rise up her chest and into her cheeks once more, and was thankful the fire had warmed her enough that it was hidden behind the heat of her face.







    "Speech."





    ooc: my heart is literally in pain for the poor man oh my god

    Jonathan Woolverton Randall, captain of his Majesty's Eighth Dragoons yes!!!! I wanted to incorporate that idea but didn't know how you would feel about having another plot parallel to the show/book so I didn't mention it. But, if you're game, I am!!!!

    also this is me being dumb but how to I properly pronounce Uisdean?? I keep saying it how it's spelt (which I know is wrong) but I googled it and it came up with things like "Ooshgin" and "Oostien" and it's been killing me LMAO

    *:･ﾟ✦Ùisdean Mackay

    —— Teann a-nall 's thoir dhomh do làmh,

    Is bheir mi sgrìob do dh' Uibhist lea.|*:･ﾟ✦


    Familiar, comfortable silence took over once more. It allowed for Ùisdean to go over the events of the past couple of days and 'file it away' as it were. Mrs. MacLennan had implied that there were survivors from yesterdays fight. Yesterday. It was hard for that detail to sink in. So much had happened in so little time, it felt near impossible for it to have been mere hours ago. Friends had died, he'd probably have too if it weren't for this woman.

    Her voice interrupted his thoughts and he cast his green gaze toward her. Admittedly, he'd expected the question. After all, he had set it up by dodging around the topic. Ùisdean didn't want to lie to her. "Diabhalan Dubha 's whit they called us. Black Devils. We wore masks 's dark as coal an' appeared fae nowhere in battle." His gaze drifted to the dancing flames in the hearth,"Folk believed we were spirits, sent tae protect them fae the red menace that stamp out our culture." The Scot stopped his speech as she pierced his skin and began to stitch him back together, teeth nearly punctured the delicate skin of his plump bottom lip to stop escaping hisses.

    After a bit, his body somewhat adjusted to the pain from stitching and Ùisdean could think of forming sentences that didn't begin with "FUCKIN' BASTARD" and the likes.


    "We killed so many men. A've killed so many men." He spoke out of the blue, brows knitted with pain and an expression of seriousness. He could remember most of them. "A should've died fae my crimes, but a ken fine well there's more tae come. A sodjer's work is never over till he's over." Ùisdean's last sentiment was made with a humourless huff. He found his eyes drifted to something glinting on Julia's finger as she worked. A gold ring reflected the fire off its perfect surface. She was married. Of course she was, why wouldn't she be? She was stunning in just about every way. Ùisdean couldn't help the pang of jealousy that stabbed through him, though he cursed himself for it as he had no right. It probably hadn't even been a day since they'd met.


    Ùisdean admired her handiwork and nodded, clearly impressed by her skills. "Mighty me, would ye' look at that!" He declared with the excitement of a young boy,"If only ye were about to patch up some o' these, hands like an angel ye've got." He motioned to the general vicinity of his body and the various, jagged scars that came with it. The Scot mirrored her actions and sat down in a seat opposite her. "A'm thinkin' I might've earned at least a couple o' days tae mysel'." He chuckled lightly,"Honest, I dinnae ken how a can thank ye' enough, Sassenach." Ùisdean smirked, the term was used more affectionately.


    He couldn't help himself."Yer husband" with both hands, Ùisdean gestured to the ring that seemed to glow with the flickering flames,"is he waitin' in Inverness for ye? He'll be awf'y worried for ye, no doubt?" A thick, scarred eyebrow raised inquisitively,"May I, eh, ask what ye' were doin' so far out in those woods?"



    "Speech."


    ooc:

    SORRY JULIA HE HAS TO ASK AWKWARD QUESTIONS!


    ooo! i've watched the first episode and MY GOD DID I LAUGH AT THE SIGHT OF JAMIE'S BACK! i had to pause, can't believe it!! should've turned my own story into a novel, had i known the success of jacobite stories!


    yeah! i think it'd add a nice extra dynamic to the roleplay.


    ahahahahaaaa, yes ùisdean is pronounced more like [OO-SH-JIN] or [OO-SH-JUN]. i know like, multiple ùisdean's and they go between those two! it's a strange one.

    i was originally going to go with fionnlagh but i already have an oc called findley so it felt wrong, conall or ruaridh but they all felt common so i just slid them into ùisdean's full name and family!



    *:･ﾟ✦ JULIA DELACROIX

    —— they all need something to hold on to | x x x *:･ﾟ✦


    The words he spoke to Julia sent shivers up her spine. The talk of death and battle made her think about her own time and her own wars, and she realized she could relate to his pain. She stayed quiet through it all, though, letting him tell her the events of his past without breaking his train of thought.


    A small laugh escaped the woman's lips as the feeling of accomplishment took hold. She was used to having her work congratulated and admired - but this time, it felt different. "It's nothing, really." She replied, looking down at the ground below them. "A day in the life's work." A part of her was glad she could've helped the man; he was wounded, and if she had left him to his own devices, the outcome could've been far worse.

    The thoughts that swarmed her head were interrupted with questions she didn't exactly see coming: how she got here and where her husband was. Her smile faded into a frown as she moved her gaze from the ground to the fireplace, frantically thinking about how she was going to explain it to him. If she told him the truth, he would most likely cast her out as a witch and she would end up on a pyre; if she created a little white lie, she would feel terrible about it for he has been nothing but truthful to her. The second option in her eyes was, although disliked, a better option than being burned alive - plus, it wasn't like she would be around him much longer anyways. She chose the second option. "My husband..." She focused, the flames prancing about as her eyes welled up with tears. "...he's...not alive." The crack in her voice was at the same moment the tears fell, and she automatically looked back down a the ground to hide them. Her husband was, in fact, not alive, for his birth was nearly two-hundred years in the future. What was David going through? She imagined how he was feeling at this point in time, as his wife had just up and vanished into thin air. Perhaps he thought she was dead, or abducted; or, worst of all, perhaps she had ran off with another man. Tears were frantically wiped from her blotched face, her gaze studying the rough carpet below. She couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes. "I was travelling through the countryside to visit distant relatives when I found myself attacked by highwaymen. They attempted to relieve me of my clothes, and I was forced to abandon my horse and property. I had fled and ended up running into that English officer, and that's when you saved me." Her words were as close to the truth as she could make them, obviously leaving out the parts of 'travelling through stone' and '1945'. A pitiful laugh escaped her lips as she looked at him briefly before casting her eyes back on the fire. "Sorry, I didn't mean to erupt into tears like that."







    "Speech."




    OOC: awkward questions get awkward questions in return!!!!! she deserved it anyways she needs to stay on her toes lol sorry Julia ily


    Jamie's back - I KNOW RIGHT LMAO. I don't live/know the history of the Jacobite rising and Scotland in itself as much as you do most likely, but just reading/watching the series blows me away at how accurate Diana Gabaldon tried to be with history. excluding travelling through stones, that is. sadly.


    okay! do you want to name him this time since I gave name to Hamish? >:))


    aaa! thank you so much lmao. I love how that name sounds I would lowkey totally name my firstborn son after that damn



    *:･ﾟ✦Ùisdean Mackay

    —— Teann a-nall 's thoir dhomh do làmh,

    Is bheir mi sgrìob do dh' Uibhist lea.|*:･ﾟ✦


    A rumbling chuckle emanated from Ùisdean's chest as Julia humbly shied away from his compliments. He could admire that trait, though he absolutely wanted her to feel appreciated. What he'd was true! Never had he seen such a delicate stitching, save for that of his own clothes. Clothes! The thought entered his mind abruptly. He made his way over to the table and slipped the new shirt on before tucking it into his kilt in an attempt to smarten himself up.


    The mention of her husband caught his attention. Ùisdean returned to his seat and fiddled with the laces as he attempted to tie his collar closer together. Out of respect, he stopped all motion at the mention of her husband's passing. Even better. He was practically throwing himself at a grieving widow, no wonder she'd not mentioned it before. "Oh, lass," He started, an expression of sympathy etched on his features,"A'm really sorry, shouldn't 've brought summit like that up, nosey bugger that I am." Being quite an affectionate person, his first instinct was to pull her into a gentle hug.


    "Seems it's just as well we met, eh? Saved each other." He released her after a moment and adjusted his sore arm. A warm smile reached his eyes. Perhaps fate was not as cruel as he'd previously believed. "Dinnae worry about it, yer nae the first and nae the last." He chuckled lightly.


    Ùisdean glanced upward to the clock sat on the mantelpiece. He'd yet to report in to Hamish and the sooner he did it, the sooner he'd be free to get on with other things. "Right. A've other things t' attend to the now. Wait here a wee minute an' I'll send Miss MacLennan back in tae get ye fed and whitnot." He walked backwards to the door, as though looking away from her was becoming difficult for him,"Dinnae you worry about the folk givin' ye a hard time. Mrs MacLennan an' mysel' will put a stop t' it when we're about." Ùisdean picked up the rest of his belongings and trudged through the door, though not before giving her a final smile.



    "Speech."


    ooc:

    timeskip? unless of course you've got stuff to dooo, maybe they could meet at dinner or whatever you fancy!


    i realllly want to read the books, though i'm also trying to save my money right now. we'll see how that goes!


    a lot of people say it's harsh sounding but, lorrrdy it cannot stop me. i'm absolutely biased here but gaelic names near enough always sound so much better than their english versions. seòras beats george any day an i'll fight the bastard that says otherwise!

    image.gif



    *:･ﾟ✦ JULIA DELACROIX

    —— they all need something to hold on to | x x x *:･ﾟ✦


    Julia was comforted greatly at his hug, his strong but smooth muscles enveloping hers made her relax a titch before composing herself as he pulled away. Her fingers tucked strands of loose hair behind her ears, and she looked up at him with eyes full of thankfulness. She was glad she could trust someone in the position she was in; even though, if he found out, she wasn't being very trustful. As he walked towards the door, the Englishwoman realized this was the first time in nearly a day she would be alone - and a twang of something bounced around in her chest. Fear? Worry? Excitement? She didn't know. A smile crossed her face as one crossed his. "I'll see you later." Was all she managed as he exited the room, leaving her to her own thoughts.

    Julia stood up and leaned against the stone wall, looking out the window into the courtyard below. She wasn't sure how long she was in the room by herself; but it was long enough for her to get started as Mrs. MacLennan entered the room, making her heart nearly jump out of her chest. "Ach, sorry if I startled ye." she wasn't alone though; the older woman was accompanied by a younger one, carrying a pile of clothes that she set down on a chair by the hearth. Mrs. MacLennan carried a wooden bowl full of some sort of liquid, and waved the younger girl to leave. She did, closing the door behind her. "Here, mistress. I brought ye some hot broth. Eat up." Julia gratefully took the bowl from her, and ate slowly, savouring each sip. She only got a few tastes, though, as Mrs. MacLennan took it from her and placed it on the mantle of the fireplace. "Come along, now. Lets get you dressed for the feast."


    The corset was tight on Julia's ribs as she walked down the hallway towards the dining hall, each step causing her great anxiety in her stomach. She had never been dressed in such attire before, and it ultimately felt like she was playing dress up. She didn't not like it; she just wasn't used to it was all.

    Her outfit consisted of a soft, earthy brown wool skirt that reached the floor and a deep blue bodice and sleeves; complete with a tan-coloured stomacher and an uncomfortably thick petticoat. Her hair was tied up in a presentable bun, and strands of loose, curly hair that could not be pinned back framed her face neatly. She looked like she fit into the era completely; which gave her some consolation on getting a ride out of here. She would have to blend in and relate in order to buy her freedom. A sigh escaped her lips as she stopped before the entrance. What was she even doing?

    Without any further hesitation, Julia entered the room, and immediately regretted it as everyone fell silent. All eyes were on her: the strange English woman in a place where that wasn't a pretty thing to be. She gulped, and began walking inside, her eyes scanning the room to look for any sort of familiar face. A smile cracked her lips as she spotted Uisdean, and she b-lined her way to him as gracefully as she could in the attire she was wearing. "Hello." She sat down in the empty chair across from the man, the thought of a proper meal making her stomach rumble. She felt shy in this room full of unknown faces: although they weren't looking at her anymore, she could still feel their gaze burning on her skin. “I hope your afternoon hasn’t been too rough. Anything interesting happen?” She questioned lightly, more than a small part of her excited to see her Scottish friend.







    "Speech."



    OOC: totally not modelling the dress after this


    I feel you with the money part. Borrow them from the local library! there's like, seven books I think with a new one coming out sometime next year yay

    also you're going to love Murtagh


    I'll join you in that fight because I completely agree ugh