Voice Post//Somewhere Else//Gold Lion

[treadingdawn]

I apologize this is a little later than it should be, but I will not be tending to The Blue Light today. If there is any trouble contact me as you can.

Comments

audio ][ private

[adamantined]

Give me like ten minutes? I'll be there.

audio ][ private

[treadingdawn.livejournal.com]

All right. You will not be able to miss Destrier.

and we can make some noise, not like the other boys

[adamantined]

For once it doesn't take her longer than the specified amount of time to get somewhere. Claire doesn't necessarily appreciate the fact that she's usually late to places, but she can't seem to help it, more often than not. This instance is an exception, just as much as Caspian himself is a list of exceptions. There are plenty of people and events that she would put the rest of the world on pause for, but Caspian has a certain balance that sometimes seems to outweigh the majority of them for more reasons than just the immediate, and Claire makes her way quickly out of the shadows of Building Twelve's lobby, heading down the sidewalk while knotting her hair back away from her face.

It's a warm and humid walk, but it's not a long one. Most of her time is spent keeping an eye out for Destrier, though it seems ridiculous to do so, as it's nearly impossible to miss a horse in the City, even in the gardens. As promised, Claire doesn't miss the animal, just as much as she doesn't miss the person who comes with it, and despite the fact that she's sure Caspian has heard her coming, Claire moves behind him with quiet steps and leans to cover his eyes with her hands. Or what she perceives to be his eyes: it's just as likely that she's covering mostly forehead as it is that she's managed to blindfold him.

"Guess who," she says, an attempt to be light, to be friendly, despite the fact that the occasion is anything but. Managing a smile is just one step down a long road, but it's been her approach to plenty of things lately, especially in the wake of faceless and nameless enemies that she can't protect the people she loves from.

and we can make some noise, not like the other boys

[treadingdawn.livejournal.com]

Can she really reach that high? Fortunately for Claire Caspian has dismounted to stand next to the black stallion. Whether he heard her coming or not, he certainly plays along. There is no reason to lash out or strike, he knows right away it's Claire. Even if it wasn't, if it was a girl's voice, he would still be a gentleman about it. Note the tilt of his head, the purse of his lips, and the sound of a 'hmm' as he tries to 'guess' who could it possibly be.

"I don't know," he reaches up to scratch his chin thoughtfully. "Am I allowed any hints?"

and we can make some noise, not like the other boys

[adamantined]

"You're allowed one hint," she plays along, going up on her tiptoes in order to get a better handle on the situation, though what she gains in covering his eyes, she loses in foothold. The fact that she hasn't immediately been brushed off in the polite ways that only Caspian can manage or shut down by his turning around and presenting her with the same sort of disposition she'd gotten across the Network only encourages her further.

A smile presses into the corners of her mouth, just a small one, and pulls, lopsided, until it's evident in her tone. "I am the coolest person you know."

and we can make some noise, not like the other boys

[treadingdawn.livejournal.com]

He thinks on this one. Long. Hard. Thinks. Hm, no the White Witch would be a terrible joke. And Caspian does know what she means by the 'coolest' having been around this world long enough to pick up some of the local dialect.

"But my horse doesn't have thumbs," he concludes with a shrug. Of course he's joking. So what if it's a terrible joke.

and we can make some noise, not like the other boys

[adamantined]

"Ha ha," Claire says, letting her hands fall from his face to rest briefly on his shoulders before she drops them and only lifts one again to dig a knuckle into his ribs. It won't hurt and the pressure is only kept up long enough for her to step around him, shoes flattening the grass in a half-circle. Crossing her arms, she gives the horse in question an appraising look and does her best to seem unimpressed rather than amused. As per usual, it's difficult for her, but the reminder of why she's come out here at all is enough to check things somewhat.

Reaching out somewhat, Claire makes to pet Destrier but thinks better of it halfway there. "It's alright to pet him, right?" she asks, not necessarily because she thinks that she needs permission but mostly because she doesn't want to cause any alarm in any capacity. She's been around this horse and others enough to know better, but Claire feels that it still warrants a question. And it's something to fill up the spaces of what they aren't talking about just yet.

and we can make some noise, not like the other boys

[treadingdawn.livejournal.com]

Argurgahugh. Caspian bends awkwardly at the waist, not because it hurts but because it falls within the realm of a sharp tickle. Honestly. Short people don't play fair, however his real outlook on the gesture is clear to see by the way he laughs. It actually makes the Telmarine smile when not too long ago even he couldn't deny brooding on the Network. He hadn't meant to be on it for long, wanted to leave a message to them as a courtesy. That's all.

"Of course it is. He knows you," Caspian nods, giving the horse a pat who then turns his massive black head to wuffle at Claire's shoulder. It is horse for don't pay attention to him, pay attention to me.

and we can make some noise, not like the other boys

[adamantined]

"In that case I'm surprised he hasn't tried to eat me by now." Claire grins and cups her hands around the horse's head, the fingers of one creeping over the huge jaw and the whole expanse of the other sweeping back from nose to between his eyes and back again. She almost wishes that she'd brought an apple or something to offer, but so long as she's focusing some degree of attention on one of the two beasts she's with, the larger of the two seems satisfied enough.

Enough that Claire can turn her attention and her smile back to Caspian, inadvertently having found something to do with her hands, Destrier a fine and smooth and warm distraction from the obvious should either of them need it. It's good to see Caspian laugh and smile, good to feel like she's accomplished something in this when she's spent so much time the last month or so feeling like a headless chicken, running in circles and into walls. She glances once at Caspian then looks up through the canopy of branches that break up the fading color in the sky. "So how long have you been out here?"

and we can make some noise, not like the other boys

[treadingdawn.livejournal.com]

"Because he's...he's a..." Caspian is trying to find the right word. It's a word he learned in this world. Oh right.

"He's a vegetarian." There we go. Caspian smiles, proud to have used such a modern word so appropriately. Because no one's taught him the word herbivore. "A little while. I woke up, I had breakfast," he left that message, "then I went to the stables and prepared Destrier to come out. He likes a good run every day." Almost like walking a dog, except not. Fff.

and we can make some noise, not like the other boys

[adamantined]

Claire gives that comment a moment to sink in, raising both of her eyebrows and dipping her head to fix Caspian with an expression that almost begs to say, 'seriously?' But she has to give him credit. She would have personally gone with 'herbivore' before 'vegetarian,' but it's definitely not an unwelcome surprise. She laughs this time, gives the horse another pat on his nose, then comes around to stand next to Caspian as he talks. Though she keeps one hand on the side of Destrier's neck - she hasn't stopped paying attention to him - most of her focus is turned toward the only other human in this situation, and she nods once he's finished.

"It's a good day for a run anyway," she adds, looking down at her t-shirt where Destrier had touched it, almost as if expecting it to be damp. The comment hangs long enough that Caspian should know what it means, but Claire looks again up at the sky and continues, "It's been pretty humid but that's probably less of a problem when you're galloping."

Another pat to the horse's neck, and Claire gives Caspian an understanding expression. If he doesn't want to talk about it, if he would rather let their time spent here pass by in relative quiet on the elephant that is Peter and the day itself, then Claire is alright with that, too. She's well aware that sometimes not talking about something that's painful is as good a balm as putting it on the table.

and we can make some noise, not like the other boys

[treadingdawn.livejournal.com]

Yes, seriously. Why, is it the wrong term? It sounds right because he eats oats, rice, carrots, apples, hay...not chicken, fish, pork, venison. That's what a vegetarian is, right? Well anyway, the horse doesn't seem to mind (or care) about the term applied to him as long as he's being petted. Destrier turns his head side to side, happy to have Claire's attention on him, even if partially.

"I thought so too," Caspian nods in agreement, "with summer nearing an end." His own words give him reason to pause, immediately he wishes he had said that differently. "No, it's no problem at all," he shakes his head, gaze falling to the hooves on the grass.

and we can make some noise, not like the other boys

[adamantined]

It's hard to believe that summer is almost over, and looking back on it now, Claire isn't quite sure where all of it has gone. Even in the sticky August heat, even with the brief plunge into a July Christmas, September and the rest of the colder months are just around the corner, and so far they don't have much to show for their troubles except new battle scars and a missing persons list. Peter's birthday would have to fall during the period of his being gone, and Claire gives Destrier one final pat as if acknowledging this fact.

Rather than stay petting the horse, she turns to Caspian and threads her arm through his, their elbows linked together. Standing very close together, as if not wanting anyone to overhear, Claire lets her gaze fall to the horse's hooves as well and asks, "Are you okay?"

and we can make some noise, not like the other boys

[treadingdawn.livejournal.com]

He lets her loop her arm through his, even bends at the elbow to make that loop more secure, to keep their secret completely theirs. To her question, Caspian answers in a soft whisper:

"No. I'm not okay."

As if that weren't already obvious despite the stoic front he's tried to uphold. But what can he do about it? Not much.

and we can make some noise, not like the other boys

[adamantined]

She always tries for words, something to soothe the ache in any way that she can, something that might not come out right but at least has all the well-meaning intention of trying to fix bruises and scrapes in ways she has no conception of. It's easier to deal with sounds and talking than it is to deal with stillness and silence, the quiet at the end of the line when everything else has gone dead. Standing next to Caspian, Claire starts and stops at least a hundred of these platitudes, these gestures, but none of them sound right in her head or feel good on her tongue, and she stutters each of them with a bit lip. It's not that she was expecting to hear him say anything else, but hearing that admission from Caspian makes her feel unbalanced.

Claire doesn't have any words, so she breaks their secret to go up on tiptoe and put her arms around his shoulders, hugging him tight and trying to communicate all the things she wants to say but can't find in the endless gap between her brain and her mouth.

and we can make some noise, not like the other boys

[treadingdawn.livejournal.com]

It's just as well because after that admission, Caspian doesn't know what else to say. What's left that isn't a reiteration of how bad he feels? How he isn't okay? How even though by all technicality he is the youngest in that household he is also still one of the oldest and knows he has a duty to be responsible. He needs to be an adult. One of the least grown up things he can do is cry about it day after day, it's pointless and it helps no one. When he is in Narnia again it will be both pointless, unhelpful, and selfish because he knows this is how things must be. Separated. A good king cannot rule well if his heart is not in the right place and his head somewhere muddled inbetween. The difference between that and here, however, is that no one knows where Peter is. Still, an exchange under the How comes to mind.

If I don't make it, Narnia's future is in your hands.

And what about your own future?

No one ever did answer that question except for Aslan in his usual ambiguous manner. Sometimes he doesn't even consider it that, it's just that Caspian hasn't quite learned or experienced enough to know what the lion really meant. Anyway, all that considered, it's why he says no more when Claire embraces him. He only hugs her in return and it is a tight firm clutch.

and we can make some noise, not like the other boys

[adamantined]

Claire is left wishing that she did have something, one word to offer, one actual sentiment or piece of advice that didn't just feel like she was making up for a lack of knowledge on the subject. Her immediate response is to help, to fix, to heal, but there's nothing to help or to fix or to heal when the only remedy that will make everything better is still lost somewhere. She knows what it means to have to be strong, to need to put on a face and show the rest of the world without flinching, to live up to ideas and perceptions.

But she also knows what it means to need to fall apart, in one way or another, and she understands that both of them have their own time and place, their own breadth and depth, and while this might not constitute as one or the other, she allows Caspian this moment to take what he needs from what she's offering.

For a long time, she doesn't say anything, doesn't move except to breathe and work her arm down from over his shoulder until she's able to lay a palm flat against his back. Simple lines, up and down, back and forth, against the fabric of his shirt, and Claire squeezes him. Finally she says, "It's okay."

Not 'it will be okay,' and not 'it's okay' in the sense that anything, at the moment, is okay by any stretch of the word. But that it's okay to need to be like this, to lean his head on someone else.

and we can make some noise, not like the other boys

[treadingdawn.livejournal.com]

Caspian still has no words to say, no words he can bring himself to say because his throat feels tight, his chest even tighter. He understands, even appreciates, how she does not impart how it will be okay. They don't know that. It may seem unkind to some but to Caspian it's the truth which may hurt, but it's better than the ignorant bliss of a lie. At least, it is today. Tomorrow may be different. Next week another change. Next month another. Change has always been something he values, being a facilitator in restoring Narnia, in making a better place for people to live. Part of accepting that is how sometimes things will change in a way he least expects. This is one of those times. It's okay, it has to be okay, because no one said it would be easy. He presses the side of his face to bright golden blonde hair, the shade which reminds him of sunshine in clear northern sky. His cheek is hot but it remains dry.

He nods again, mouthing the only words that come to him: Thank you.

Caspian doesn't think he needs to speak up for Claire to know what he means at all.