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

[treadingdawn]

[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.]

LABEL MESSAGES AS TEXT, TXT MSG, OR AUDIO. EVERYTHING IS PRIVATE, NO PARTY LINES.
Action for Narnia crew, anytime, anywhere, or pre-arranged with anyone else.

Comments

among the fallen trees and fast asleep.

[suncolors.livejournal.com]

"Caspian," she greets, but without question in her voice. "Oh I don't think they would hold you responsible," she answers in all seriousness, smiling a bit more at Destrier before leaning down to pick up her wand and the bottle. Watching Caspian drape the blanket over her new friend, she decides her feet can stand to be in her shoes, and her shoes can stand to be around her feet for a little while longer. The Telmarine does seem a bit unsettled already by her supposed lack of proper attire. Wand and bottle in her left hand, she reaches out again with her right, and it would not be inaccurate to say that Luna enjoys Destrier's company as much as he probably enjoys the attention.

"How are you?" she asks, peering around the horse's head.

among the fallen trees and fast asleep.

[treadingdawn.livejournal.com]

"Well, if you insist," and something about her tone tells the Telmarine that there's really no reason to doubt her.

Make no mistake, stretching to drape the blanket over the tall horse's back is cause for a little wincing and distress on Caspian's part. He does his best to hide it well, similar to just grinning and bearing it. He has also noticed the wand and bottle, curious about what they're for and even thinking to himself maybe Peter or Susan has gotten to Luna, or Susan to Lupin, or Lucy to Snape, and all the other wizard and witch individuals of that world to hide the wand somewhere in the house. They can't make Merlin do everything right? But for now the brunette doesn't ask. He busies himself with smoothing the thick fleece and wool.

"Good, thank you. How are you, and your shoes," asks Caspian. There's no need to tell her about Saturday night's mess. Likely she may even feel traces of it radiating from the house, or from just his rib.

among the fallen trees and fast asleep.

[suncolors.livejournal.com]

"Better, I think," she smiles. "It's snowing." This, she says the same way one delivers a lengthy and detailed explanation about how they are feeling and what has caused them to have such sentiments about whatever it is. Obviously it is a little less telling than that but the tone is the same. There is something not quite right about his answer, she knows--not thinks, knows--but there isn't any need to mention it because she knows that he knows of it. Whether or not the way he moves is connected to it, she does not even begin to ponder. Again, it isn't necessary.

"Perhaps you should sit down," she suggests, that light tone ever present, as if she isn't suggesting anything at all, even as the words leave her mouth and she tilts her head at him, wand making a soft noise against the side of the bottle.

among the fallen trees and fast asleep.

[treadingdawn.livejournal.com]

"We have been waiting for it to snow," he nods, speaking more of the Pevensies than himself, but acknowledging that despite the lack of a surname he is an honorary member of the clan. Caspian still knows little about the Christmas magic of snowfall, however Luna has shed some light on that mystery in saying they go well together. That's as good as Susan mentioning snow and ice skating in England or Peter sitting so silently with a gaze like snowfall itself; you know it's there and you know it's falling on you and you know there's very little you can do to keep the sky from snowing. He puts his faith in their words and not but minutes ago it finally began to fall. It isn't bad at all, so far.

And when Luna speaks again in that light tone, wand and bottle in hand, he knows she knows and he knows she knows that he would rather she not know. That's a battle well lost.

Briefly Caspian thinks that she reminds him of an adult speaking to a child in that way that gives the child chances to voluntarily do the right thing without being steered. Then he thinks of Peter and how Peter would be far more blunt than to suggest he sit down. Small blessings, this Luna. So after smoothing the blanket one more time, the Telmarine sits on the steps leading to the side door. Perhaps he should ask after all.

"What are those for, Luna," he speaks with a gentle tone that treads softly leaving shallow tracks in the snow.

among the fallen trees and fast asleep.

[suncolors.livejournal.com]

"For you," she says, padding over to sit on the lowest step of the porch. "Well, not the wand, that's mine," she clarifies thoughtfully. "But this," she holds the bottle aloft, "This is for you." It isn't offered yet as she instead decides set it down between them, a step above her and yet below the brunette. What she is sure of is that Caspian is hurt, and what else she is sure of is that it is not all chalked up to a broken something or other--it is not so simple as a physical wound alone. What she is sure of, however, barely requires speaking of, because as curious as her tone can be, her understanding is quite solid on these sorts of things.

Shifting her sweater, she looks at Destrier fondly, but watches Caspian peripherally, hands folded quietly in her lap. The professors are not altogether supportive of her going out at this time, what with the way everyone has been acting, but she is not terribly concerned with this. She has yet to be bothered by anyone who has required her to send up red sparks, and the unicorns would be lonely with no one visiting at all.

Caspian reminds Luna a little bit of Harry. Both seem to hold things close to the vest for one reason or another despite having an open way about them at the same time. It is only a little bit of course and it is just a first-observation, and she doesn't concentrate heavily on it. She found her way here again tonight on purpose instead of wandering, and she knows she can be unsettling to people, but that has just simply never mattered to her as much as it would to others. Questions flit through her mind all the time but they are so rarely about herself--maybe that is her real blessing.

among the fallen trees and fast asleep.

[treadingdawn.livejournal.com]

He smiles when she clarifies that the wand isn't for him. Of course it's hers. He supposes he would not do very well at all with a wand, unlike a student of the craft like Luna. Wands may not carry quite such a positive connotation as of late but Caspian can recognize that some wands do good in the hands of someone with the intent to do good. His will would be the same, surely, but his preferred arm will always be a sword. Now he turns his attention to the bottle again. Briefly he thinks of telling her in jest that he doesn't drink, a blatant lie and the humor might be lost on Luna who doesn't know of his palate for spirits. Maybe she does, intuitively. And then maybe she would only clarify in her light but clear, yet unclear, manner that it isn't liquor at all. He supposes it isn't.

Brown eyes settle on the glass between them, on the middle step like middle ground. He thinks about inviting her inside except Destrier can't follow them and Caspian is rather sure that she would choose to sit outside with the horse. He would do the same, maybe. It occurs to him that she must be crossing paths with those injured people and the ones who are too far gone to be saved, but Luna has twice (Thrice? More than that?) now returned to their home at night, unscathed. Do they avoid her or is she more powerful than she seems? He shakes his head slightly then leans forward--carefully--to look at her.

"What is it," Caspian asks casually, curious.

He is hurt, physically and otherwise, but the otherwise is a dull pain and sometimes it really shouldn't be there and sometimes he picks at it to remind himself that it is there, confusing scars for scabs. One is a trace of what a boy has learned and the other something that shouldn't be pulled, both figuratively and literally, because they help the clotting process. That's something the Captain of Medicine could explain, right?

among the fallen trees and fast asleep.

[suncolors.livejournal.com]

"A healing potion, skele-grow."

It is the same to her as saying 'a drink, water' or 'nothing special' or the like. Not impervious to attacks, but versed a bit in defending against them, she has not required help because, to a certain extent, Luna can take care of herself. This is something they have all had to learn to somehow do, in their own ways, and, though she doesn't know it yet, will need to hone. Yet the future is not as worrisome to her as it is to others. People will be where they need to be, when they need to be. Things happen, and sometimes there is little you can do to stop or start them, but something can be done, usually, and as long as that option is there, there is every reason to not worry as there is to worry at all. Luna Logic. It's not the same as Loser's Lurgy but it's probably just as comforting if one prefers 'real' logic, but for those who don't mind taking daily leaps of faith or shots in the dark.

There is nothing wrong with the dark, after all, or at least, Luna has never thought so.

"It will help," she offers the affirmation like a hand to hold. It grew back the bones in Harry Potter's arm, once, she remembers being told by someone--maybe Harry himself--after a nasty fall in a game of quidditch. Asking Severus for it was a bit interesting and the blond girl reminds herself to make something for Remus, truffles perhaps, as he does enjoy chocolate of all kinds. Presently, she busies herself with removing her shoes, just for a little bit--it is another way of not looking at Caspian in case he feels odd scrutinizing the bottle while also under scrutiny himself. When she sets them down they move that last step down to the ground and she flexes her toes experimentally. That's better.

among the fallen trees and fast asleep.

[treadingdawn.livejournal.com]

"Oh," he sounds, perhaps a little less poised than he could've been. It's only that he finds it odd how she knew, or rather came to this visit prepared. Is Caspian X so transparent? A King should not be so easily read by his people, he can see this trait in Peter and Edmund, although it could also simply come naturally to Pevensie men. And at the same time they must not be doing such an excellent job if Caspian can tell, or is he just intuitive? In any case, he is not a king right now and Luna is certainly not one of his subjects.

"Skele-grow," the Telmarine repeats the word because it sounds funny yet makes complete sense if its purpose is what he thinks it is. The name is plain and concise, it tells you what you need to know. If there is enough for more than one rib he will definitely keep it on hand in their First Aid cabinet, that is what Susan calls it.

"... Thank you. Is there any way it should be prepared?" He asks a question because there's ease in accepting the gift and expressing gratitude briefly. She knows he wouldn't have sought something out himself, but neither is Caspian one to rudely refuse in this situation. He may as well know how to use the potion properly. Perhaps a shot of the stuff would spice up evening tea or prove more potent when shaken with vermouth. No, really. He also notices the shoes which distract his gaze.

among the fallen trees and fast asleep.

[suncolors.livejournal.com]

If Luna knew Peter or Edmund, it is likely she would read them no less or more than she reads Caspian X. Unlike some who seem to think the Telmarine more easily perceived than others, Luna only reads him as she has always read everyone she meets, the only way she knows how, and that would take an entire lifetime to explain. Some things were never meant to be spelled out in clear lines and finite details. What little she references that people can often connect with tends to do with her late mother, or her slightly doddering father--more so the former than the latter. Everything else rests comfortably between the lines of the mystery that comes with being bluntly honest and impossibly vague at the exact same time.

"Really, you shouldn't need that much," she says and then, "A drink or two, probably." The falling snow has her attention again and, after setting her wand behind her ear, she cups her hands out in front of her, watching the larger bits land on her palms and melt away. "It tastes less than pleasant, according to Harry." That is the truth of it, and it's better to take it alone--more effective that way--but it will do the job it was meant to do.

among the fallen trees and fast asleep.

[treadingdawn.livejournal.com]

He wonders if he should ask if she misses Harry, but he says nothing of it. He would not like being asked if he missed Peter that first time or if he misses Edmund now. Actually, he would not mind being asked, but he would mind being expected to answer.

"All right," Caspian says while reaching down to pick the bottle up. He looks over it, if there is anything to read there under the dim light, or if he can determine the color of it. "I don't mind the taste, especially if it's a gift," he shakes his head and smiles, bottle raised a little higher. He doesn't presume that Luna will ask for a favor in return, but if she does... "And, you know that if you need anything from me," he starts but doesn't finish, knowing she understands.

among the fallen trees and fast asleep.

[suncolors.livejournal.com]

"I would mind the taste, I think," she admits, tilting her head, folding her hands over again. The truth is that she misses Harry, but she would as soon miss Hermione--and has--if she was not here. These two people hold very different places in her heart, and yet it is mindful to remember the phrase 'separate but equal' because this is true too. Whereas she understands Harry and can reach out, she understands Hermione and lets the other girl reach, because these things never work the same way twice--friendships, tests, sunrises, or sunsets. That is something Caspian no doubt has his own understanding of.

Turning to look at him directly, she blinks before something occurs to her, watching him raise the modest potion, smiling--is she amused? most of the time, yes--at his unfinished offer. She knows what he means, of course. To be fair, it isn't a type of knowing exclusive to Luna Lovegood, and she knows that as well as the next person, knows that, really, anyone who is paying honest attention would know too.

"Do you need more light?" she asks, because that can be provided too.

among the fallen trees and fast asleep.

[treadingdawn.livejournal.com]

"No, I don't," he shakes his head again, thankful for the offer though. Ah but now he's reminded! "But, wait here," the Telmarine gestures to her, and to her shoes, not that he thinks she'll go anywhere except maybe to follow Destrier if he decides to rummage through the garbage. Bad habit, that horse. He takes the bottle with him too, and no Caspian has no intention of pouring the potion down the drain. He isn't that stubborn or rude. In any case, he takes the bottle into the house, setting it on the kitchen counter where he doesn't think anyone will fancy a sip. Is anyone awake or downstairs at this hour? When he returns it's with a small stack of curiously cut papers.

"Here," he offers the white snowflakes to her. It isn't much, but aren't they pretty? "It isn't much, but maybe you'd like them."

among the fallen trees and fast asleep.

[suncolors.livejournal.com]

She waits, obviously, and while she waits, she says, as if Destrier is listening to her, "We are very fortunate, you and I." What that means, maybe the horse doesn't even know, or maybe he does. Sometimes Luna's words, like her reasoning, seep in through the cracks of what is regular and expected. It doesn't take long for Caspian to reappear and she doesn't think for a second he has gotten rid of the potion, because he called it a 'gift' and he seems the type to only call something as such if he means it.

"What is 'much'?" she asks and doesn't expect him to pick up on the quote, but she accepts the snowflakes with care, as if they might be made of glass that only looks like paper, and just as fragile. "Thank you," she bows her head briefly. It is a quick look she casts in his direction before she takes her wand from behind her ear, whispering something not quite audible to the point of words one can actually identify. Perhaps it is not too surprising when the well cut shapes float around her in a pleasant circle. It is like a dance, soft, measured, but uncomplicated.

among the fallen trees and fast asleep.

[treadingdawn.livejournal.com]

Destrier flicks an ear, having heard her but offering no equine insight in kind. Maybe he understands and casually accepts it in a horse-like manner, or maybe he doesn't understand at all but likes the sound of it just the way Luna has said it. Then his tail swishes and he shakes his mane pleasantly. Whatever that means in horse.

And Caspian doesn't pick up on it but he doesn't regard the question any less. "Well, these are certainly not healing potions. I don't think they're potions at all," he says while carefully reclaiming his seat.

Given to the right person they could heal in their own way. For Luna he only means to entertain, much like she did with the lit flower, and snowflakes do have a petal quality about them. He notices the look and watches quietly when she takes the wand. He wonders what she might do with that wand, he wonders a lot really though Caspian isn't the sort to wander, far and without company at least. When the paper shapes start to float around her, he raises his head and the first thought that comes to mind is please don't let those float in front of Peter or Susan's windows. It would be a strange midnight wake up call. As for the magic, he has already accepted it with just a mildly wide-eyed look.

"Good magic," says Caspian, like one might a loyal steed but it carries more than one meaning. Oh and, "you're welcome."

among the fallen trees and fast asleep.

[suncolors.livejournal.com]

Good magic.

"It takes all kinds," she nods. There are bad wizards and witches of course. There are good ones. There are people with no magic at all both good and bad. There are those who were one thing and are now trying to be another, or have been trying, and for a lot longer than anyone her age might comprehend. Severus comes to mind though she wouldn't presume to know his motivations. It seems foolish in regards to that particular man.

You're welcome.

Again she smiles and the flower-like cut-outs don't wander far because it is only a floating charm, not a following one or a sending one like her shoes have.

"Where we come from, it can be both good and bad, though it only becomes bad when certain people use it. That's true of many things though, I suppose."

among the fallen trees and fast asleep.

[treadingdawn.livejournal.com]

"I am certain it is," he says with a slight nod, referring to the truthfulness of that.

The White Witch is definitely sorcery, as were her two wards sent to cut his hand, but Aslan is also magic, perhaps the greatest magic, and Luna and Merlin know magic as well. Of all of them and the magic users that come to mind, in Narnia and in this City, Jadis is the only one who truly strikes him as deplorable. Beyond that, people seem to be a greater threat than magic itself. He remembers Claire and Karolina's secrets and why they are made to keep things that way. He understands too when Merlin speaks to him of Arthur's father and Arthur's father's rules. Caspian hopes he has done away with that for Narnia, not just for the dwarfs and the centaurs or the fauns and the Talking Beasts, but for Telmarines as well. However, the wand is still an evil, tainted magic, the might of one man's army in the palm of one woman's hand.

"It is not quite like the snow," he remarks, turning his attention back to the floating papers, "but these will not melt." Caspian smiles.