gentlearcher: (Walk On)
Susan Pevensie ([personal profile] gentlearcher) wrote in [community profile] eachdraidh2014-08-15 06:28 pm

.001 Action | Video [ Open to All ]

[ ACTION ]

[It was a long walk to Caer Glaem. Fortunately, Susan was close enough that that the road to it was fairly safe. She would feel better about this whole thing if her brothers and sister were here, or if she had her bow, or even her horn. Instead she was wearing her school clothes, and they were none too clean at this point. Still, Susan was hoping for a better explanation, and from what the friendly fairies and townspeople had to say the castle was the place to get it.

She was hungry. Fruit trees and handouts didn't do much in the way of assuaging hunger when one was walking all day. She hoped there would at least be food in the castle; it was looming large in her vision now and she hoped to get there within the end of the day. It was a good thing, too. She'd bathed in a stream that morning, but--

"Lawkamercyme!" cried a high pitched voice, and Susan turned her head just in time to see a small, green-tinted fairy fall into a faint. A dark shadow globbed its way towards the fairy, Susan was sure it had foul intent. Dark shadows with gleam of teeth almost always did. She wished for her bow more than ever, but didn't hesitate to pick up a large stone at her feet. She was frightened - how did one fight a shadow? Oh, she hated to fight - but she wasn't about to just stand there and watch. She shouted, "You! There! Get away from that fairy!"

The shadow did not seem much impressed. And so Susan threw the stone with impressive aim, clipping the beast right in the mouth. It hissed and abandoned the fairy, heading towards her instead. She bent to pick up another rock.]

[ VIDEO ]

[For a long moment, the locket shows a beautiful face with a furrowed brow, staring intently at its own reflection. Susan has never seen anything like this before. She is at the castle now, clean and clothed and fed, so her image doesn't look quite as dire as it had earlier that day, and her dark hair is swept back neatly in a braid.]
Ah - so it does work! At least, I assume it does, and this is a message going out all over the lockets and not just some sort of fancy mirror.

[In either case, she's beginning to feel a little self-conscious. She reaches for easily remembered dignity.] I don't mean to intrude, but I have heard that this is something which happens often. And I wonder, is there anyone from England here? [She misses her family; two weeks of walking among strangers in a strange land was more than enough alone time for now, thanks.] Or even [marked hesitation] Narnia?
bullhorned: (Praying on your worst fears!!)

[personal profile] bullhorned 2014-09-01 02:35 am (UTC)(link)
He tapped the edge of his plate. "This here? I never ate so good as this before."

It was a poor point in a world of better points. But it was a simple one and he had no great desire to talk about the sins he had seem committed and of the wrongs he himself took part in.
bullhorned: (Oh nevermind that was Arya)

[personal profile] bullhorned 2014-09-01 03:09 am (UTC)(link)
"Near five months now." The last of his meal finished, he casually licked at his fingers. He drowned the rest of it down with what remained of his ale. "But it weren't no trouble. Better I find someone than be wasting time on patrol."
bullhorned: (Where IS Waldo?)

[personal profile] bullhorned 2014-09-07 02:45 am (UTC)(link)
"Work the forge. Usually there ain't no cause for me to patrol."

And so he admitted he was a knight in name, but little more than that. He was a craftsman at heart and little else was like to change that.
bullhorned: (Praying on your worst fears!!)

[personal profile] bullhorned 2014-09-11 06:59 pm (UTC)(link)
"As much as anyone enjoys their work, I think." He took pride in his work and it gave him purpose, but it also made him angry as well. Where one day in the forge might leave him with an aching body but a high spirit, another might fire up his temper when something was dropped or if he managed to burn or cut himself during his work. It was what it was.