treadingdawn | contact//messaging//¿por qué hacer eso?

[Click.]

[Is this for real?]

[Why yes. Yes it is.]

Hello. Um, this is Caspian--

[BEEEEEEEEEEEP. Sultry woman's voice:]

Hola. Caspian del buzón de voz está roto. Esta es su refrigerador.
Por favor, hable muy despacio y voy a mantener su mensaje a mi mismo con un imán!
Gracias.

[BEEP. End automated message.]

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From:

treadingdawn.livejournal.com

"Yes..."

That's his name, do test it out, and hopefully not in a way that means to enchant him or curse his family line. Destrier shakes his head slowly to toss the forelocks of his mane about. Yes, he is a beautiful horse isn't he? Don't deny it. Caspian pats the big black horse's neck again, noting the attitude on display. Don't flatter yourself, old friend, he thinks silently then nods to Luna.

"Destrier has been my horse since boyhood," oh here we go! No wait, the shoes arrive just in time to stop the brunette. So he stares. He stares at the shoes that move on their own. They seem a bit slow. Off-pace. The shoes, they walk. "Won't you put them on..." asks Caspian, maintaining a calm composure, "at least to keep your toes warm."

From:

suncolors.livejournal.com

If Luna is aware at all of his shock or surprise or whatever at her mobile footwear, she makes no show of it, only shaking her head at the brunette this time, that same soft upward curve of her mouth there.

"No, I don't think I will," she says. "But it is ever so nice of them to join me on my walks. I do take them quite often," she continues, as if the shoes might actually take offense at so much exercise. The shoes, they walk, yes, but they stop right beside the blond girl, as if sensing Caspian's slight unrest.

"You have had him most of your life then," she turns back to Destrier. "True friends," she notes with a murmur, stroking a hand through the horse's mane again.

From:

treadingdawn.livejournal.com

"Oh..." he sounds, as if this is an adequate answer, which it really isn't, but what do you say to walking shoes and the person who seemingly chaperones their movement? That's right, nothing.

Just as Caspian is about to ask her question, like what are you doing out here alone? Are you visiting? Do you know Lucy? She has to remark on that. Come to think of it, he has had Destrier for almost half his lifetime. That isn't saying much when one is only seventeen years old, but it is a long time for a young person.

"A long time, yes." It occurs to him again that she is a strange sort and most of all strangely intuitive. "Were you looking for something, out here? Do you need help," asks the Telmarine.

From:

suncolors.livejournal.com

"We all need help, now and again," she answers, vaguely, yet specifically all at once, turning toward him. If he asked what she was doing alone, she would tell him she was walking and if he asked her if she was visiting or knew Lucy she would say she knew of Lucy but was not, in fact, visiting at all, that she was just passing by. That is how it usually is for her, here, and at home. If you see Luna Lovegood, she is usually in your peripheral vision, often mistaken for not being there when she is and vice versa. How much of this is her own doing and just the general air around her that her mother likely had, is up for debate but no one ever does. How do you properly debate a conundrum after all?

"But I was only looking for the snow," she adds with a tilt of her head, as if this makes perfectly plain sense, and to be fair, it does...to her, anyway.

From:

treadingdawn.livejournal.com

Now there's a truth, and even though it comes at such an odd time from this odd person Caspian nods in understanding. Yes, that's very true, and it's also a bit more figurative than what he meant, but it's a truth all the same. He is better equipped to comment on the snow. Caspian gestures to the dark landscape in the walkable distance, the forest compared to the little road leading from their home to the other ones dotting the area till it becomes denser and more urban in the opposite direction.

"There isn't any here or there. I have heard that it is a bit strange for this time of year, to not have December's snow. I'm sorry I cannot help you find it, Luna," he offers an apologetic smile.

From:

suncolors.livejournal.com

"That's alright," she tells him, and means it, taking a step toward him now, hand resting lightly on her shoulder bag, which is too small to be a shoulder bag really, but not quite a purse either. "You don't need to apologize. Actually..." she pauses. "Thank you," another pause, glancing back over at Destrier.

Then her shoes move again, walking over to the porch steps, where they climb once, and stop. Luna pays them no perceivable mind.

"What are you doing out here?" she asks, because she knows most people dislike the cold as it is, and she thinks that Caspian does not look altogether too comfortable.

From:

treadingdawn.livejournal.com

Thank you, he wonders curiously, finding her all too polite and likable in that politeness even when she seems she may be just as lofty the next second. So he nods anyway, accepting that then gesturing to the steps where the shoes have stopped. Queer little things they are. And then there's also the railing or the bench. They are good places to sit.

"Will you have a seat at least," Caspian asks, all too trusting and inviting Luna within the wards. She seems harmless, but most of all, he trusts the horse's judgment. Animals have a sense for these things. As for her question, he answers almost too quickly. "I am watching my horse, keeping him company."

From:

suncolors.livejournal.com

No thank-you this time, but she smiles again, the sort of smile when one closes one's eyes every so briefly because it's the sort of smile that causes this. Then she moves over to sit between Caspian and her shoes, which may come as no little amount of relief to the Telmarine, or may not. That he trusts her is both a surprise and not a surprise. People don't tend to have trouble trusting her, but understanding, that's the thing of it.

"There are stables," she says, quite sure he knows this. "But I suppose with all of the...strangeness going about, it's better to have him nearby." This she deduces for herself and then, "Professor Snape could extend the wards around your house, if you asked him." She leans forward, heels digging against the step, looking at the sky before turning her gaze entirely to Caspian himself.

From:

treadingdawn.livejournal.com

He has always been a trusting sort. But really it is half Destrier's doing who appears slightly saddened to have lost Luna's attention to That Guy. Oh well, live to snort and wuffle another day. The horse busies him self with a little grazing. This is a bad habit by the way, it puts patches in the otherwise lovely and leveled grass. Ahem. Caspian looks to Luna again now that she is so close to him. He doesn't seem to mind, hands clasped between his knees. The night's chill isn't so comfortable, but he prefers to be out here alone, or rather with his horse, or rather with his horse and Luna, than inside.

"Yes and I could not leave a true friend alone," he says to her, smiling still. When she mentions Snape that almost brings a bit more sense to the situation at hand. It would explain the shoes. "You know Severus Snape? I mean, Professor Snape, and he could do that. I shall have to ask him in the morning, although I don't think Destrier plans to walk around this late," he laughs quietly.

From:

suncolors.livejournal.com

"Though it would be nice for him to have the option," she looks at Destrier, watching him graze. The not quite level spots in the lawn add character, Caspian, don't worry. Or something. "Professor Snape taught at the school I go to, Hogwarts," she clarifies, being a bit more straightforward than Luna tends to be usually. This is probably a fortunate thing, as first meetings with her even in her forthcoming ways can leave one confused, as if once standing on land only to look down and find air.

"But," she rests her chin on her knees, pulled up close to her now. "A charm might work just as well. You are not exactly in the midst of many people here."

From:

treadingdawn.livejournal.com

"You're right, it would be nice for him," he nods in agreement with her, although he isn't so fond of the patches of grass. Susan wouldn't be either, right? That horse better know better, and after this city ordeal is over it's back to the stables with you. He turns his attention to Destrier for a moment then draws it back to Luna.

"I know some of the people from there, including Professor Snape himself, and one Professor Lupin, but they have no spoken of any charms," Caspian explains, tilting his head. "What does a charm do?"

From:

suncolors.livejournal.com

"A charm, or a spell, defensive," she ponders aloud before answering, "Well, my shoes, for example." To demonstrate, perhaps, or to terrify--either or--they move down the step, to the flat ground where they sit, motionless. "Charms do a few things, a lot of things. That is one of them." She points at the footwear pleasantly as if she pointed at something far less bizarre. "There are protective spells though, they can...hide...what you want hidden, and so on," she waves a hand airily, standing up again to go pay Destrier some more attention, toes flexing against the cold earth.

"Or, even," she turns back, smiling. "Wards for the stables." It's just a thought and she treats it as such. The night is very dark around them and with a casual care, she opens her small bag, pulling out a flower that gives off its own light. She has held onto it since her unexpected walk with the potions master. A soft yet vivid light spreads out from the petals, a glow all about it, but nothing garish. All is lovely in the palms of her cupped hands, and then just one as she uses the free one to pet Destrier.

From:

treadingdawn.livejournal.com

He looks to the shoes, the ones that walk on their own accord. So strange, that... but they aren't giant trees and that's all that really matters to Caspian. He does wonder how that might help Destrier though, Destrier who can already walk. It occurs to him now that magic might allow him to talk, at the same time he doesn't think he would like to hear what the steed has to say. For now Destrier cranes his head again, lips nuzzling against Luna's hair, velvety nose looking to be petted. Insufferable horse.

Wards for the stables is an idea, but that place is communal property and one never knows when someone might use it for not so good purposes. Caspian considers a charm of some sort on Destrier himself.

"Would a charm work for a horse..." he asks Luna, lifting his gaze to her standing form, which doesn't need to travel far because she is very much shorter than he. However his words lose their direction and his attention its focus when he sees the glowing flower. "What is that...?"

From:

suncolors.livejournal.com

"It might, though I suppose you might not like a charm placed on you?" she asks Destrier more than she answers Caspian but makes up for it by, with an affectionate pat to Destrier, wandering back over to the porch steps. Standing in front of the seated Caspian she is still not that much taller, and only in such proximity, but she holds the glowing plant out to him. It has not gone out since her walk with Severus. Changing hands should not do anything to it to cause that.

"A flower of sorts," she says and then, "I never did ask what sort."

Is it poisonous? Not likely, as she's just fine as you can see, as are her shoes, and also, she happens to be one of the few students here that Severus Snape does not loathe deeply, and it's not terribly probable that he would seek to get rid of one such student, as they are already so few. Actually, she might be the only one, but it's hard to say with the unreadable professor. On face value, it is simply pretty, and light, and a bit warm, which might be nice to those who find the still oncoming winter cold.

From:

treadingdawn.livejournal.com

"Perhaps not, unless it was only for good luck," to which Destrier replies with a snort and a hoof beat. He doesn't need good luck, thank you. If Caspian only knew what this horse was thinking, he would surely bring up that time he dragged him by the stirrup or the whole trotting back to home base incident or you know if he knew, the whole abandoning Lucy in the woods, but who wouldn't after seeing Aslan maul a soldier?

Now he just stares at Luna, Luna and the glowing flower. He wonders if he can touch it without burning his hands because she is from that wizarding school and he is only human. A Son of Adam. After a thoughtful moment Caspian takes the flower into his hands.

"It's a beautiful flower of sorts," the Telmarine smiles. This is why he is outside, because for various reasons he does not feel his manner is welcome inside tonight. Perhaps the word isn't 'welcome' but more like merely 'tolerated' for the time being. He can't shake the feeling off and he doesn't know why he has it. The warmth in his hands soothes the feeling of illness in his stomach. Just a little.

From:

suncolors.livejournal.com

Never one for a great array of facial expressions, her current one does not fluctuate that much, but she watches Caspian with the carefulness of a person who studies the fractures of ice beneath feet, to predict just where it will first completely split open. It's a total form of focus and yet, somehow, not overbearing, but this is perhaps a charm of her own, something of her father's airiness and her mother's goodness, and other things--some of them, her own.

"You are unhappy," she comes to the conclusion at last, but does not ask why. It isn't a judgment, just something she finally notices, finally digests, and when she sits down again beside him, she is looking up at the sky. "I'm unhappy too sometimes, very sad...but it always passes."

All things pass. All things return.

"You can keep it," she offers, still not looking over, but smiling as if she might have more to say but feels no need to actually say it.

From:

treadingdawn.livejournal.com

"I don't think you came out to talk about a boy's unhappiness," he says to Luna with a little smile. Perceptive young lady, she is, perceptive and intuitive. His defense is different from most, not the solid steel wall like Peter's or the razor wire like Edmund's, but he is evasive and Caspian does a most awful thing; letting people think they are so close then taking one step back. Just ask Susan. This isn't the case with Luna, not yet, as they have just met. "I don't feel very well, that's all," he adds.

But the Telmarine appreciates the flower, and he nods to her even though she isn't looking at him. He gets the idea she'll see the gesture anyway.

"Thank you, Luna," Caspian says, wetting his lips and suddenly feeling a bit like a heel. But he doesn't add to this, choosing only to look down at the warm flower again.

From:

suncolors.livejournal.com

"No, but we often end up doing the things we least expect to," she turns to him again, an unspoken: don't we? This Caspian is interesting, kind, strong, curious, she thinks, and other things. She can, in a way, see how he does not utterly vex Severus as well. It is a rather constant filter she runs through out of habit...and for information, as if she can deduce who least annoys him, she can figure the opposite as well. Everyone needs a friend, preferably more than one too.

She does not say 'You're welcome' but she inclines her head just a bit, so little that it could be mistaken for a tilt, but it is indeed a nod of recognition.

"But I do hope for snow," she goes back to the beginning, because it is as good a place as any.

From:

treadingdawn.livejournal.com

"We do, sometimes," he has to give Luna that much, smiling again.

That logic can apply to walking barefoot across the grass under the night's chill or magic horns. But he doesn't give in, not yet. Besides, while Caspian does care for and trust the rest of the occupants in the house behind them, it's very well possible that one or two or three of them might eavesdrop on his conversation with this strange young lady, right? Wrong, Caspian doesn't think they would resort to eavesdropping unless absolutely necessary, he just thinks it's a good excuse to not tell Luna about it. He is always finding a way to not tell these things to anyone.

"I'm not very good with the cold, but I would like to see snow too. I have never had a Christmas before, and the way everyone talks about it, it seems that snow is part of the experience," Caspian says to Luna. Possibly rambling now. Making conversation.

From:

suncolors.livejournal.com

"Christmas does not make the snow anymore than the snow makes Christmas, but they do get along very well, where I'm from," she is careful with her words, ever careful. "Perhaps they are less friendly to one another here," she muses, not at all about to prod or pry for any answers other than the ones Caspian offers forward. It just isn't her way, even if she perceives those other answers in the midst of it all.

"But...you have never seen snow then?" she wants to make sure, even as her shoes start to walk away and she grabs at them smoothly, tugging them back to sit stationary beside her again.

From:

treadingdawn.livejournal.com

"Do they," he asks her curiously. Caspian doesn't think about those words, always Winter never Christmas, not now when they have her wand. Neither does her element of power ruin the snow for him. It's only its icy chill that occasionally makes one Telmarine want to wrap himself up in some thick velvet blankets and sit by a fire instead.

"I have seen snow, in Narnia and here, actually," nods the brunette, "but not Christmas. It isn't a tradition where I come from." Well no, that's a lie. He tries to correct himself. "I mean, it isn't a tradition of my people. We have winter festivals, but not a Christmas," he shakes his head and lowers his gaze to the shoes.

"What is it like where you are from, Luna?"

From:

suncolors.livejournal.com

"At school, the ghosts carol, and the ceiling is lit like a snowy sky with candlelight sometimes. There are parties, but not everyone is invited, and there are gifts, though not everyone receives them...but it's all good fun, really," she assures him with a nod, pausing to situate her shoes better next to her before going on.

"Dad and I, we would have Christmas trees of course," she tells him as if he knows, despite his words to her. "And there is usually a great deal of food, though I should be just as happy to simply have pudding." Long blond hair falling over her shoulder as she leans forward absently, she smiles a bit to herself. "Not everyone celebrates where I'm from either. But they celebrate other things, and there is, at this time of year, something or someone for everyone." Her feet curl over each other as she speaks, an absent movement just as her hands in front of her, fold, delicately as you please. And for all that she is saying, at least she hasn't whipped her wand out or anything.

From:

treadingdawn.livejournal.com

He listens to her with his full attention, and not the absent-minded kind one grants a guest who always says the same thing you don't want to hear. Caspian listens to her because he's very interested in what Luna has to say about Christmas. Ghost carolers and snowy skylight and candlelight and gifts all make that world, the one Lupin says is one the verge of war, sound wonderful nonetheless. Briefly he wonders what it takes to get the ceiling lit in such a way, if it's possible to do that for the Pevensies. They talk of Christmas as a family tradition, it would be nice to make it as rich as possible. And even better it would be a nice surprise for Edmund, not if he arrives but when.

"It really is a good holiday, isn't," Caspian remarks with another smile.

Something and someone for everyone. It would be as nice as the warmth in his hands. Then he hears the words again, the words that make him feel sick to even acknowledge. You'll always be on the outside looking in. He cups his hands a little tighter around the flower, not enough to crush it, but to keep its light his.

From:

suncolors.livejournal.com

"Oh it can be, but most things can be good, given the right light."

The war is both at the top and the bottom of Luna's consciousness. She is aware of it but it is in the same way one is aware of the sky being up and the ground being down below one's feet--hopefully. Not all things need to be put to words. This is how it is for Caspian, who she does not know but would not mind knowing better, Caspian who for all that he has decided not to speak of his unease, remains uneasy.

Sometimes Luna wonders about unhappiness, but not too often, just enough to put moments like this into perspective. That it is personal is obvious, and that things aren't quite right the way they are is clear enough in the air around him...and again she doesn't even know him, not barely. But it does not always take knowing history to know the present, and this, if anything, may be her forté in handling people--or not handling them, as it were.

There are her reasons, though not her thoughts behind the quiet look she sends Caspian's way. Talk if you like. Stay quiet if you like. This night is not unkind and there is worse company that could be had between us.

From:

treadingdawn.livejournal.com

"I'd like it to be as good as possible. You don't miss or long for things you never had experienced in the first place, not so much," he starts then upnods over his shoulder, "but it is their family tradition. There should be no reason that one spent here should be any less meaningful."

Caspian is very sure of this.

"What are your plans, Luna," he asks her, smiling again.

Now he understands how insufferable and irritating patient people can be, just sitting there oh so kindly and waiting, knowing, you'll eventually come crawling to them because your need for a listening ear wins out over your need to maintain solid gold pride. But he will not lose yet. It's just rude to continue talking about yourself, really. He'll learn more of Luna first. It's only polite.