tampered | Death to Death [closed]

When; Saturday | December 6 | Late afternoon, going into sundown.
Rating; PG-13? IDK the movies are like lol no bloooood...but there be blood here, so. Yes.
Characters; Caspian (

treadingdawn), Lucy (

lionesscouchant). Jadis (

queenoftraitors), Peter (

oshutup) Susan (

lionessjant) & SPECTATORS (see below cut for details)
Summary; A challenge made in public name of previous personal trespasses, for the otherwise undisclosed purpose of cutting off winter's stone-tipped chill.
Log;

♚detaiiiiils.♕
Location: stadium, looking vaguely like the ring with broken columns and whatnot you see here....but larger as to be in keeping with stadium size, etc, etc. That's a basic idea though.

Annnnd threads will be made for the following 83

I. Pre-duel
a) [locked: Pevensies + Caspian]
b) [locked: Jadis + Allies]
II. Duel [locked: Jadis VS. Peter]
III. Duel [the public, anyone present and watching in the stadium, and while this obviously includes Caspian, Lucy, and Susan, we are opening it for anyone else who would be there and wants to actually do a semi-real-time reaction log. It doesn't have to be fancy, it's just an opportunity that we thought might be interesting to offer, and fun, perhaps. Reply to the main [blank] thread labeled as such with whatever your character is doing, or similarly, to another character's action if you want to interact, reacting.]
IV. Post-duel [locked: Pevensies + Caspian]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Let's see," he says to Susan, giving her a nod and waiting for Lucy's drop before his hands, stained in Peter and Jadis's blood, work back in. "Soak a towel in water, please," he asks of the girls, because Peter deserves to have a clean face, whether this whole ordeal could have been handled better or not.

Hauberk removal is executed with caution for the broken areas. If the juice of the fire flower has repaired what's under the skin he hopes that it has also repaired his flesh on the surface level to some effect, because peeling the gambeson from any open wounds may hurt. Just a little bit. But he is sure that Peter won't cry, not enough to protest anyway. And under that must be his tunic or shirt, whatever he has chosen to wear as his first layer. The Telmarine inspects because he is tasked with a job that is his voluntarily and that of Edmund who cannot be here to fulfill it. He doesn't want to get an earful over not compensating the Just. Honestly.

"Perhaps you should tell me what I am looking for," Caspian asks of Peter, half-serious but all well-meaning. He is the one who has considered a career in medicine, right?

Lucy scowls again and resists moving forward, leaving for a moment to return with warm water, washcloths and bandages for the small wounds that the cordial didn't heal. "Here," she says, pouring it into a washcloth and handing it to Susan. "Wash his face, I'll help Caspian."

She was always the one to do the nursing, possibly because she's never the one who does any fighting. She takes Caspian's hands in hers. "He always flinches before you reach the wound, he knows what's coming, even if he won't scream." She helps pull away the gambison. "And then soak where there is or was a wound, because the blood may have already scabbed, it will hurt him to pull it away fast."

Even though hurting Peter isn't her chief concern, she's still not inclined on doing it.

One unsettling thing after another. Susan is glad to forsake the wand. It's placed very carefully aside, out of the way of hasty feet. That doesn't mean that she welcomes lending a hand to the nursing of Peter's wounds. She loves him very, very much. No question. Her hands shake dabbing at the blood.

Don't look down, she tells herself. Don't look down at the wound. Peter best not cry out after all.

To Caspian he begins to answer but stops when Lucy answers for him. That much is true enough, and sufficient he thinks, because his throat is terribly dry, feels hoarse though he's barely spoken a word in the last...however long. Being tended to is not something that has never happened but it does feel a bit odd, or maybe that's just the slight discomfort that comes from the tending.

No, he doesn't cry out, not even a little. The clenching of a jaw, however, is easily noticeable, perhaps the occasional and sharp intake of breath.

But he's fine, really. He thinks to tell them as much, but somehow his mind is already wandering towards: let's just go home.

Home?

Back to the house.

That's more accurate, at the moment.

He looks from Peter to Lucy and nods, careful not to get his fingernails involved with the peeling. The gambeson smells something awful by the way, as does Peter himself. It's a small price to pay for success isn't it? And with it removed he steps aside for Susan now, seeing that the blond isn't still leaking anything vital. Only now does he notice the shades of red that appear more like a dull brown on his sleeves. Stains, but at least they aren't vibrant and bright like scarlet on white. That would be almost too symbolic, especially for the White Witch whose blood he shed on the snow, once upon a time.

"I don't think he will need a doctor, not unless he feels pain tomorrow," Caspian suggests to the girls, brown eyes looking over Peter again. Note he said pain, not sore, there is a difference. "Perhaps we should take you home," he addresses the blond, thinking he'll not seem to have much of a say in the matter.

Lucy nods at the suggestion. "You'll be better in your own bed, after a bath." She spots where there is blood sticking to his shirt and she soaks the spots, then removes it, cleaning the blood off. "There's a shirt over in his pack," she says, knowing because she placed it there herself. "Susan?" she asks quietly, knowing her sister doesn't like the sight of blood, or injured Peter, "Can you fetch it?"

Once the shirt was on they could get Peter home. He would likely still be dizzy but at the least able to walk - at least more upright than before.

She normally would slip one hand into Peter's and squeeze. But today she doesn't feel like it, and she doesn't feel generous either. I'm very cross, she wants to tell him, but instead she says "He'll feel better after he's slept. I'm sure he will."

A new shirt for Peter and a chance to step away? Done and done as far as Susan is concerned. She sets down the shirt even and steps away. Surely someone brought bandages.

"Will he be alright riding on horseback home?" That is something to think about. Maybe there could be another way.

"I can walk," he answers to all of them in a general way, not annoyed but short all the same. On one hand, he is grateful for the help, but on the other, there is something slightly overwhelming about stepping from one ring of attention to the other and his head isn't quite right, unable to focus at all. Maybe he's just feeling distracted though, after such intensive focus on the duel now past. Either way, the cordial has, as far as he's noticed, already taken care of anything that could prove truly troublesome, and as he slips the extra shirt on--there will be blood on this too likely, because only a shower will fully cleanse the High King of the residue of the fight--he bites the inside of his cheek. It all feels a bit odd, him a bit removed and they, entirely present.

To prove his words, however, he stands, however gradually. Well, standing is not the same as walking, but he's sure he can do that too. Casting a look around, hand on the back of the chair he was sitting in, he sighs. Rhindon. His shield and armor. The wand. He knows he can expect and trust Caspian with those things but to carry them all is surely cumbersome. Then it occurs to him that he has not cleaned his blade and old words lurch at him like a hand holding his shoulder back. His step falters for a moment, thinking, remembering, and in remembering, having that very young feeling creep into his face and posture, as if He is there, even though Peter is quite sure he isn't.

Death to Death [closed]

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