tampered | Log: Complete

Log: Complete

When; Oct 5, midday
Rating; PG, for now?
Characters; Caspian X

treadingdawn, Dorian Gray

nobodyneedknow
Summary; What happens when a Very Important Painting goes missing.
Log;

Caspian has been searching for that painting again, and no it's not a portrait, though portraits are what he finds inside the Palace. He remembers this place having a gallery for those who wish to exhibit works of art. How the painting could have found its way here is beyond the Telmarine but finding the thing is worth the effort. It's been days since the surprise for the new house, and thus the Pevensies, pulled its very own disappearing act, but a determined man is Caspian X. He moves through the room displaying sculptural pieces to a smaller corridor towards the landscape work. In all this time he has seen abstract color spatters and something called 'pop art' which makes no sense to him at all. Traditional landscapes seem more likely but he isn't going to jinx his chances by being presumptuous. He walks along quietly, seemingly alone.

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Dorian resists reaching out to touch Caspian's face, his hair, or the other man in any other way. It's vanity that makes him want to reach out and bridge the gap between them, but the truth is that Dorian has no idea how Caspian would react, and he's not willing to scare off any chances.

"Dorian Gray," he says with a polite nod in reply, his lips curving up in a smile that makes him look sweeter and much more innocent than he is. "I'm afraid I'm at a bit of a loss...for words..." he says, drawing out the sentence. "I had been told I looked like someone that others knew but..." he pauses.

"I'm sorry I find this rather hard to believe."

Caspian would react with a blush and it is his own vanity that would fuel it, so they are both fortunate that Dorian does not touch him.

"It is a pleasure to meet you," he says, cordial because he was born and bred that way. It's much easier to offer nods, bows, and a straight posture to someone who's clearly familiar with formal etiquette, something lacking in the city...or maybe Caspian is the odd one out in this world. In Dorian's presence, that isn't so.

"Dorian Gray." Caspian tries the name off his own tongue. Not Dunstan Thorn. Could it be Tristan is wrong or is Dorian himself a third likeness? Very curious. It's to the Englishman's advantage that he is the first the Telmarine has ever met face to face. "I am too. I have been told of another who bears a resemblance but no one has told me your name," he offers a smile in return, "or how close the likeness is...unbelievable."

Now it is Caspian who feels an urge to touch Dorian if only to make sure he is real.

Dorian tips his head, as if trying to examine him for any differences, but there are none. They have the same lips, the same eyebrows, a matching cleft in the chin. "This is..." he trails off his sentence. What would Wotton think! Wotton surely would beg him to indulge in whatever he was feeling, but Dorian is not so entirely Wotton's creature as that.

"Are you Spanish?" Dorian asks, instead. He listens to the odd, exotic vowels of Caspian's speech and ponders how to mimic it, if only for his own amusement. "I'm sorry, it's simply that if you were an Englishman, I would say we also share a voice."

Which is also true. Timbre and tone, only accents distinguish them. Dorian takes a careful step forward. "You are not a portrait come to life, are you?" He doesn't laugh, but it's clearly teasing.

In a manner.

Spanish? Caspian blinks once, twice, then shakes his head.

"No," well maybe, "I am Telmarine, from Narnia, but I do know of an England, of a London and a Finchley." His smile brightens much like a boy who wishes to impress a peer. He too has noticed a similar timbre and tone despite their differing accents and he has, before Dorian, considered trying to mimic the Pevensies' accent too. Needless to say everyone is better off with him not copying it. Now at Dorian's question Caspian does laugh and it's light, charming, good natured.

"I am not although I wonder the same of you," he nods, because it's funny they should find each other in an art gallery of sorts. Worth noting, Caspian doesn't step back when Dorian steps forward. He has no reason to.

What is your story, he wonders, is it like mine?

"Do you? I'm from London, originally," he states, calmly. He's not quite examining Caspian so carefully now, but his eyes are still fixed on the Telmarine. "And Finchley. That's a bit out of the city itself, and I'm afraid I've never been, but I hear that it's pretty enough." Finchley was too far from the action of London for Dorian to truly be interested.

Dorian looks around. "Well, I suppose I could be a portrait made flesh," he says, and in a manner, he is, "but then I wouldn't be very entertaining to speak to, I'm afraid." He wonders about this man, this Telmarine, a nationality he's never heard of, from a place he's never heard of. Narnia, he thinks. A cousin, or a long lost twin? No, nothing so romantic. A man who has the fortune to share his face.

"I'm rather new here," he says, "Would it be terrible impose upon you with a friendship because of our matching appearance?"

"I'd like to visit it sometime, well, both London and Finchley," he nods, interested not just for their location but also for a sentimental attachment to the people he knows who come from there.

Dorian's quip is confusing at first because any sort of joke, however subtly implied, is lost on this one. He almost takes it seriously at first, but then he just smiles again. "No, I think not, and if you were a portrait I don't want people to believe I am speaking to myself because I am vain," Caspian laughs softly again. There are some who would say he is vain, but not vain enough to compromise noble principles.

"Terrible," he asks, dumbfounded by the question. It's so surprisingly honest in a way Caspian wishes he'd experienced from others in boyhood. "It isn't terrible at all," and here the Telmarine King flushes in the cheeks. He thinks himself perhaps a little bit too eager for the same. To him, Dorian is upfront and confident, but Caspian still retains an amount of boyish vulnerability in these matters. "I mean to say...I would like that too," he straightens up again in an attempt to recapture his maturity.

Dorian ponders this for a moment. "If you do visit London," he says, "I'll make sure to show you around the city. It can really be fantastic. Although I'm afraid you'll have to make your own way about Finchley."

Dorian is vain, vain enough to speak to his portrait, but not so vain that he would have easily gone mad because of it. "I think I'd say you have reason to be vain, but I suppose that's not very humble of me," Dorian quips back, and his laugh echoes Caspian's, soft, but the same.

"Pardon," he says, realizing that perhaps English is not Caspian's first language. "It's an expression," he assures the Telmarine. "I'm pleased we can agree on that, at least."

Visiting London, visiting Earth, will always be a dream of his. Just one glimpse might do, he would say, but his heart believes it isn't enough. Caspian wishes to set foot there someday, to see the house in which his friends lived, to see the train station in which they stood before the call of a horn brought them back to Narnia. How exciting it would be, like magic to him.

"I have friends from there, Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy," he says quite fondly.

As for a reason to be vain...um. Caspian isn't sure how to respond to that either. He isn't naive enough to not notice a compliment but reacting to it smartly is another matter entirely. What to say? 'You too'? The exchange smacks a bit of vanity, again, and he wishes to avoid that when so far all has been polite and gentlemanly, friendly. No, it isn't very humble at all, but Caspian doesn't mind because he sees a reason too, whether he addresses it or not.

"Well..." he starts, "have you seen much of the city here? Have you settled comfortably?"

Do you need my help?

For the record, 'English' is his first language. Fff.

There is a lot to be said in how Caspian addresses his friends. The familiarity, the fondness is not lost on Dorian Gray. If these friends are in the City, it might suit Dorian to meet them. Perhaps he can make an effort to pay more attention to the Network device - it seems to be of value, here.

He hears the words for what they are - an offer, and Dorian has never been one to decline an offer from someone beautiful. "I haven't seen much, I'm afraid," he says carefully. "And I have a flat but it's...simple. I'm looking for a much better home." The truth was that his flat was not suitable in the slightest.

He pauses. "Caspian," he says, using his first name rather informally, never having received a last name, "I was about to step out for tea when I met you. Would you join me?"

Get to know him. It would be the best idea for the beginning of this particular friendship.

"I would join you, Dorian," he tries the other man's name again, only the first because surnames are uncommon for Caspian and the place from which he hails. He is unaware of any other intent on the Englishman's part. As far as he's concerned, this is an offer for tea and to get what they both expressed interest in having: a friendship.

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Log: Complete

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