tampered | OPEN FOR MINGLING

Entry tags:

king's quest - princess rosella

OPEN FOR MINGLING

When; Saturday and Sunday, November 3-4
Rating; Individual threads may vary!
Characters; Everyone is welcome! This is an open log for Polyites and 4th Wallers alike, so just specify if it's an open thread or if you have 4th walling rules in the comment or subject line!
Summary; Whether you're a regular or a first-timer, here to stay or just passing through, the Blue Light is the place to be for good music, good food, and a sea of friendly faces to encounter. SO GET IN HERE AND MINGLE.
Log;

As she's now grown accustomed to doing on days when the visitors come, Rosella is manning the Blue Light with as many of her staff on duty as can spare the time to be around, making sure that residents of the City and visitors alike have a warm and cheerful place to stop in, sit down, have a chat, and enjoy the opportunity to spend time together.

The music is merry and there's the chatter of conversation in the air as the booths and tables fill with people; nearby, a space on the floor has been cleared for dancing, should any guests find themselves with the urge to cut loose.

It's looking like it's going to be a busy few days. But really, that's quite all right with her.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Cakepie. Ignoring the pie inside cheapens the experience.

[Equally primly, he relieves her of her fork and commandeers a piece of cakepie for himself, because you might as well seize the sweet things while you have them, since there's no telling when they might disappear.

Which is an apt metaphor, really.]

I hear you were out on my sailboat this morning.

[She moves so he has room to sit next to her on the bench.]

I woke up in my sailboat. I believe you left it to me when you abandoned me here.

All part of my cunning plan to keep everything I like in one place.

[He slides in, and in the same motion leans over to kiss her.]

[That's a low blow, Odair, because she tangles her fingers in his shirt and just melts into him.]

Oh.

[You don't win the Games by being honorable, Miss Pevensie. You win them by going for the victory.]

The best I warrant is an "oh"? I can do better than that.

[And so the kiss is reprised, this time with an arm around the shoulders and a thumb stroking her cheek.]

[Finnick you asshole. She's got her hands on his face, then, and in his hair a moment later, and when they part she can't move more than an inch away]

You are being cruel, sir.

[But she's smiling, really.]

I am being myself, miss. And you wouldn't have me any other way.

[And there it is--the smile he could never give her back when they were both trapped here, the one so bright and easy and real.]

Were you avoiding me on purpose?

[She puts her hands on his cheeks and kisses him again, this time slightly more desperately, like she wants to prove to him that no, she wasn't, she couldn't]

I looked for you everywhere, you terrible man, I went to your bakery and your blonde friend told me you had gone to the docks, and I went to the docks and the man there told me you had just been by, and I chased you through the woods to my own house, and finally I went back to the bakery and bought a cakepie and came here, hoping you would remember last time.

I asked the police if they'd seen you.

[DO YOU REALIZE HOW SIGNIFICANT A SACRIFICE THAT IS. Also hello, that's as good a signal as any that it's time to let this simmer down into something a little more serious, not quite so cavalier.]

I almost don't mind the chase. It makes me appreciate finally seeing you that much more.

[She does. She does and she takes his hand, and holds it tight, tight.]

Well, now you've got me, for another day, as I don't intend on letting you out of my sight.

I always get what I want, you know.

[Not entirely true, but it's something she's heard him say before. He lets her hold his hand, giving hers a faint squeeze in return, and shifts so she can lean against him for more comfort.]

Did you bring your brothers with you? Or do I have you all to myself now?

I suppose that might be true.

[And lean she does, her head just against his shoulder]

I haven't seen hide nor hair of them. See the blonde with the trumpet? He's my brother's friend, but I don't really know him, so you don't have to worry.

I'm all alone.

He reminds me of Peeta. But I think he'll be busy enough with the girl behind the bar, anyway--she thinks she's being subtle with the way she's watching him, but she's really not.

[He shifts the placement of their fingers, running his thumb over her knuckles.]

You're not all alone. Not right now.

No, I suppose right now I'm not alone. You're here with me.

[She nudges him a little]

I would be very sad if you left me.

I know a hint when I hear one.

[He nudges back.]

You know I'll have to go eventually. Are you still going to be upset with me?

No.

No, I won't. I'll be going soon, too. Back to Narnia, I suppose, although it's a bit like a dream now. When I'm there I dream of you, when I'm here I dream of home.

You don't have anything better to dream about than me? Narnia really must be a fantastic place.

[She laughs and runs her free hand through her hair. The cakepie is forgotten]

It is! But don't you know, you dream for what your heart longs for?

That's not how my dreams ever went.

[The precious thing was a night without dreams, really. What she's suggesting is a luxury none of them were ever entitled to.]

Dream up a way to take me with you.

[She considers it for a moment, and takes his other hand]

Oh, it doesn't work so easily in Narnia. What I imagine; I would be sitting court one day, terribly bored, and I would go to the beach - the one beside Cair Paravel is beautiful, you know, with water so clear you can see each fish to the bottom, and so blue the sky gets jealous - and I would come down and you would be sitting there, rocking in your sailboat.

I've sailed through worlds you would tell me, and found the only path here, and risked my life, and you look like a Queen.

And that's how you would find me, with the bottom of my skirts drenched in seawater and my crown missing and my hair blowing with sea-air, and you would look like some god of the sea.

Does that suffice?

Edited 2012-11-04 06:09 (UTC)

You're the only queen I know, you know. Any other one I meet is going to have to measure up to you in my perception. Which almost makes me feel sorry for every other queen out there, really.

And it's a good dream, but that's not what I want to see. Most every memory I have of you is tied to a beach, and there's nothing wrong with that. But if we're dreaming anyway, I'd rather have the one that I can't picture for myself. What it's like for you when it's not me and the beach.

Castles and horses and racing through the countryside, and drinking toffee-apple brandy?

Is that what you imagine?

Without you?

[It's a very soft stillness, the one Lucy has]

[Castles and horses--he barely knows what a castle is, save for the fact that it's something like a mansion, something large and tall and not altogether unlike the home she and her brothers had here, but different. And it's only then that he really stops, and thinks, and lets his eyes close as he tries to picture the elusive Narnia he's heard so much about and yet never tried to put into images painted with words.]

When I think of Narnia, your castle in Narnia, I think of it like Mags' house down the way back home. There aren't ballrooms and chandeliers...though I guess there are feasts. Plenty to eat, always, and the chatter that comes with having lots of people all in the same place at once. But it's white boards and a gray roof and a tower on there somewhere because your room is in the tower, and there's a little door that lets out right onto the beach, and your thrones are made of wood salvaged from old ships that still smell like sea salt, and there's a set of brown wooden steps--circular steps, and the third one creaks, but they're polished smooth so you can go barefoot--that go upstairs to cozy little rooms with low ceilings and small round windows that look out over the water. And then outside, it's the beach on the one side and a forest on the other, and that's where your lion lives, to the east, by a cave hidden in the woods.

I guess that's not really what a castle is like, though, is it? Or any of it, probably. But that's what I imagine.

[It's the happiest thing he can think of.]

I think I like your image better.

[She holds onto his hands, her fingers tightening their grip for one moment]

I think it's more honest.

Honest? I'm not the one who's been there to see it for real.

OPEN FOR MINGLING

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