tampered | Log; Ongoing

Log; Ongoing

When; May 1, all day
Rating; PG? PG13? Medieval sports violence?
Characters; Open, but characters with ill intentions beware of Narnia's zero tolerance policy.
Summary; Lucy's birthday celebration begins late morning with a tournament till sunset and general merrymaking afterward into the evening. Presents not required ~~but probably a perk~~.
Log;

[ooc: "It's a field!" For more references this is the poly_tldr tourney post, this is the 1st IC tourney post, and this is the 2nd IC tourney post! Consolidating into one log instead of two, so label subject lines accordingly whether it's "Match: Spy vs. Spy" or "Spectator~" or "Evening Party: Open" etc. etc. Have fun!]

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Oh, he was a helpful one?

Caspian. Well, that was a name easy to remember. "I am Hypatia," she replied, and as she did so her irritated expression faded into something of a more positive nature. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Caspian." With an impish giggle, she drew up the pools of fabric. If he was willing to go out of his way to make her more comfortable, she certainly wasn't going to stop him, so long as he gave her no reason to distrust him.

She'd never really been very good with that "trust" thing. She'd either been too slow or too fast to trust. Well, she wasn't going to risk anything with this one. He wouldn't be daft enough to try something ridiculous in this place. ...Ridiculous like ... Well, she wasn't entirely sure. Throw her into a pit of fire.

"I'm afraid the only way I might become more comfortable is to be rid of this hideous dress. You see," she continued, leaning in ever so slightly, and blew the hair from her face. "I'm afraid it's been years. I hadn't anything else for this ... celebration. I don't usually stray far from the river...."

Well, Caspian liked being helpful here and there.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Hypatia," he nodded but without offering to take her hand and bow to it because at the moment he wasn't washed up enough for courtly pleasantries, but he tried to be a gentleman about it. Her remark about the river piqued his curiosity moreso than her implication of being more comfortable without clothing whatsoever.

"The river, is that where you live? I mean, here or in your homeworld?" He asked while gesturing for her to follow him towards one of the tents where they tend to armor and weaponry.

She tagged along behind him, feeling exceptionally tiny in his wake, but she stood tall and held her head up high, regarding those around her with a vacant expression. It was nearly intimidating to be surrounded by so many strangers. At least back home there were familiar faces and a sense of companionship. Family. Here, there were nothing but strangers.

"Both here and home," she replied with a gentle roll of her shoulders. "I need nothing more, neither here nor there."

"What is it about the river that gives you all you need," Caspian asked then paused, "I'm sorry if it seems rude to ask you these questions."

He raised the flap to this tent and gestured for her to walk through first as only a lady should. A cincher ought to do the trick for her waist, else there was always replacing her oversized dress with a better sized chemise, but he felt just some tightening here and there would keep her from tripping on the hem.

"Tell me, Caspian," she began as she slipped past him and into the tent. "If you feel compelled to apologize for the questions you ask, why ask them at all?" She was not offended, merely amused by the situation. Did he often find himself repeating that line, she wondered?

She did not take her eyes off him, save to spare the contents of the tent a once-over. In and out. She could hardly risk getting sidetracked by something while festivities awaited just outside. "To answer your question," Hypatia finally continued, "what else might a water child require? Stone walls? Smudged ... what are they called? Windows? To allow the light to filter in. I'd never."

Oh her observation brought the slightest blush to his cheeks but being darker of skin it didn't show so obviously.

"I am apologizing if it is rude because I do not mean to be," Caspian explains to her, "not for asking questions, although you are in your right to not answer them." He lifted a simple cincher and draped it over his shoulder, then his hands hovered over her hips. "May I," he asked, not shyly, not bashfully, but casually because she had already revealed herself to be someone not at all caught up in the traditional etiquette of people. From her words alone he gathered Hypatia was some kind of natural creature. Not necessarily a nymph or a naiad yet, because the last time he saw a water spirit they left the area particularly damp. he wasn't an expert on these things.

She eyed that cincher. Oh, did she eye it good. She didn't need to think too hard to recognize what sort of thing it was, and it wasn't the sort she was fond of. She'd seen women of all sizes and ages wearing those constricting little things, and she would have none of it on herself. "You mustn't mean to put that on me, do you?"

Her expression was dead-pan, her eyes narrowed, and her brow furrowed. She was so serious about the subject that she was very nearly pouting like a spoiled child.

Now, Hypatia had long-ago mastered her ability to remain "dry" on land and among men, but it was a talent harder to control than she cared to admit. After all, moisture was precious the farther away from water she was, but it needed an escape somewhere. The pools of fabric at her feet hid the dewdrops on the ground. Inconsequential, really. No one usually cared to notice such things.

But it was times like this she wanted with every fiber of her being to forget it. Take refuge in a bowl somewhere. A chalice or five. Drown that nasty piece of fabric and be done with it. "It's terrible enough I've forced myself into this threaded prison. I won't be adding more to it."

"... It doesn't have to be tight if you don't want it to be," Caspian explained, gesturing to the lacing. It certainly wasn't a corset or a bodice, just something to keep the hem up without seeking pins. He could have taken a knife to the hem as well but that seemed a tiny bit more inappropriate. "We could give you taller shoes," and yet he believed that was an even bigger cause for an accident, "I do not want you to fall and hurt yourself or have to carry your dress like that. How will you partake in the wine or the dancing?"

That last statement was most honest. As a host it was his personal responsibility to see to the safety of guests.

"Shoes? Taller shoes?" She lifted the fabric and leaned forward to look at her feet. Damp. Hmm. "I'm not sure they're very tall, to begin with. Not sure the shoes would fair so well, either. And what do you mean, wine and dancing?" Hypatia asked as she turned her gaze back up at him, cocking her head curiously to the side. "I'm not much for dancing. Not on dry land, in any case. Too much...." How to describe it? She'd never really danced on land before. Lounged, yes. Slept on, dug in, watered, touched, pondered, and looked at, but never danced on. "Too much ground."

"I am going to repeat myself again, Hypatia. I apologize if it is rude or foolish to ask, but are you..." He started, arms folding loosely across his chest as he studied her. "Are you... made of water?"

What a ridiculous question. A King of Narnia should know better, and yet he asked it with confidence and no shame, as if it were no different from asking if the sun is out.

"...Don't be daft, of course I am! Do I look to be made of wood or flower petals?" She paused. "Now that I've thought of it, they would hide among you as well as I do. ...Possibly better." Depressing, how she'd found no sign of them here. She'd never felt so alienated.

She placed her hands firmly on her hips and shifted her weight.

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Log; Ongoing

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