The Frog Prince, or: Kate Was Right All Along

[the_seafarer]

 The world is larger now.

Not just larger; taller, stranger.  Everything caught in odd angles, flat and imposing.  Blades of grass tower over him, ants the size of small dogs bump into his feet, and he startles --

Sending the world into a spinning, alarmed leap.  A blink, and everything has shifted; he might be miles from the door, for all he can tell the difference.  

The tea.  It could only have been the tea.  There was a splash of warmth, and his shirt soaked in a crooked strip, and deep violet plumes of choking smoke, and then everything grew horribly large and strange.  Could it?  Truly, there have been times when he'd been warned off food or drink in this place in the past, but he'd always felt tea would never betray him in such a fashion.

It appears Milliways is not yet through with surprising him.





Be that as it may, he cannot continue in this fashion.  Large eyes blink, bewildered, at the green, long-fingered hand replacing his own; he attempts to edge towards his right and finds himself catapulted into the rough wood of the back step.  A twitch forward sends him sailing in an arc that turns steadily less graceful as he tumbles back into the ground, heart thrumming a panicked pace somewhere nowhere near his usual steady beat.

There must be a way to reverse this spell, whatever it is.  A wizard, perchance, or sorcerer, if he can find one -- but any attempt to move back into the bar proper would result in a scramble to keep from being trod upon, and in his present state, he can hardly call for help, or draw attention to himself.

He sits, for a moment, shivering in a clump of tall grass, flips into a bewildered cut of a half-leap at a bugling call sounding nearby, a sharp whinny that freezes him into a shell he cannot seem to break from for a lifetime's worth of worried breaths and buzzing pulse.

The horses.  The stables.  Possibly, there, he might find aid -- there are fewer feet to trample him, when the horses are in the stalls, and the place is peaceful enough he might  find a moment to think, or plan.



It has simply never seemed such a very insurmountable distance, before.

Comments

[the_seafarer]

"I certainly hope not. Though at least the cure seems simple enough. Particularly since it doesn't seem to distinguish whether the lady is a princess or not."

Marian isn't, after all, a princess. She is a noblewoman and a lady, but not royalty, in her land or any other, and she would be the first to admit that, readily. He's looking at her as he says so, and glances towards Kate after, to catch the flickering shadow of something that looks almost like a smile before it evaporates into curious interest.

It's odd. He glances between them, meeting Marian's eyes and holding them until his discomfort almost overcomes the manners drilled in over the course of a lifetime, years of them, of the proper words, the way to hold himself, speak to others. Kept in check even during times of war or strife.

Even if there is something that cannot even be called accusation in his voice, because Kate acted quickly and intelligently and broke the curse, whatever it was, but Kate also very likely didn't need to pull Marian into it at all, not if a princess was not required.

[ikissdhimbck]

As his glance lands on her, her smile returns. It's softer and meant to be encouraging, if not soothing.

"In the story I'm familiar with, the frog an' the princess built quite a rapport before the spell was broken. I reckon station might not have much at all t'do with it, rather how their relationship grew."

She absently unfolds her duster, shakes it out, refolds it. Her eyes betray nothing, but were they to see beyond her carefully chosen words she wouldn't mind much.

"'Course, could be as simple as a kiss; the princess might've never broken the curse without knowin' the trapped prince within, but we'll never know what might've happened had she pecked 'im right off the bat. However, had I tried, I reckon we'd be caught up in a whole new world of awkwardness right now, seein' as how my lips are somewhat infamous, an' not in the good way."

As shocking as it's been figuring out he's got title and station she never knew about before, she can't rightly recall if he knows her moniker, or what all it entails. She glances at Marian, and then takes a deep breath.

"Anyhow, important thing for all of us t'remember is it worked. The how an' why ain't important. Right now."

Later, on the other hand ...

[queenofmay]

She isn't, a princess, and the point is all but hardly worth belaboring.

Because she isn't and the both know it, but in the end that detail doesn't matter was much as the fact it did end. That it is over. That Caspian is back to being tall, fair, and blonde, instead of small, green and panicked. The whole thing awkwardly passed, and making really only about as much sense as any other strange magical outbreak here.

The kind of things to just nod about, so it can be over, and she can shake her head, at the sheer regularity of the oddness of this place while she drinks her -- well, anything but tea for a few days hence. Hot chocolate? Mulled wine? Water, even. Something else. Until the place seemed quiet, the possibility passed, and events of it didn't crop into more Security Reports.


Especially when Marian is giving a speculatively uncertain, curiosity touched, look toward Kate at the commentary on herself. Which is not so much a conversation she can say comes up frequently anywhere near her world. Maybe if she hadn't boycotted sitting rooms, and girl's with fripperies for brains, as much as they forgot her.

She does not argue that, maybe, Kate's wisdom about knowing Caspian whether it is six years, or four, or two, depending on realms and time frames, does not matter, long. That fact is as untouchable as the sky, and she can't claim to know a single thing about Royalty Frog Curses, but she is rather to the point on other things.

"You're infamous for kissing someone the wrong way?" Marian's expression right now twisting pointedly, if maybe even a touch awkwardly, suspicious. Forgive her the fact it does at least give her something else to make a face at that is not the feeling like polite, classicist, decorum just built its own castle between her and Caspian. Thanks, Kate.

She might actually have chosen shooting someone over that. Thing have been quiet touchy enough with all his losses.

[ikissdhimbck]

She breathes in, holds it, glances between the two.

A smile quirks her lips, nearly bashful, wholly uncomfortable.

"Mayhaps I left out a few details 'bout bein' an outlaw."

It was just easier at the time, finding that thread of common ground and building on it. Respect, kinship, and familiarity blossoming quick as a weed. And maybe, well, just maybe Kate needed that. And maybe she was afraid of losing it.

Another look passes from Marian to Caspian. Dear friends, both kin in their own different ways. Is now really the time, after the ordeal Caspian's just been through?

"It's a — "

She pauses, pushing her hair behind her ears, and starts over.

"Newspapers in my world. They call me 'Kissin' Kate Barlow'. It's — a long story. Now ain't the time."

[the_seafarer]

To his credit, Caspian does not actually mouth the words Kissin' Kate?, either to himself or to Marian. Kate, his friend, who has just helped him with such astute insight and good speed, is looking more than a little uncomfortable, and she's right. It's not important, not now.

"There's more than one long story to be told," he agrees, glancing to Marian. He doubts Kate will think more kindly of his secrets once she knows that, of all the folk still here, only Marian and Amy know his whole story, his past and title. "It was wrong of me to keep secrets from you, Kate. I cry your pardon. You've proven a true friend more than once, and I'm ashamed to have lied, even by a lack of admission."

He pauses, shakes his head, with a half-smile that's part abashed and part rueful. "But I think you are correct that right now is not the time."

[queenofmay]

To her credit more than not, Marian is not actually ill adept at holding her tongue.

It keeps her alive in certain situations just as much as speaking out against injustice keeps her breathing.

Which means that she can look between the two of them and leave it at that. Kate's story, a kissing wrong somehow kind of story, that can't be told, along with Caspian's secrets, and past, that have been further revealed, and the world of Frog Royalty Curses she'd almost rather not have learned of.

But she can hold her tongue, her questions, the things she's incredibly grateful for the fact aren't being talked about. Puzzling seconds of things she's still trying to blink away from existing in her memory. Things that leave her cheeks flushed and her gaze a little more circumstance than normal, even when things are fine. Which they are. Fine. Now.

Even if time and tales between her friends, and herself, will understandable wait for a later, better time for them all.

[ikissdhimbck]

It's Kate's turn now to turn a little red. The alias, and all it entails, is hardly complimentary. She wouldn't have held it against Caspian had he mouthed or repeated the words, or had Lady Marian not been able to bite her tongue. The looseness, the intrigue it implies, combined with the knowledge that it's tied to why she's an outlaw. All the things she's done.

At least Caspian can take some comfort in knowing he isn't the only one feeling a little embarrassed under Marian's bright eyes. She may be the only one among them not owing an explanation. It's all right, though. They still stand friends, Caspian's words a salve, and Kate scrapes together a smile and a nod.

"S'all right. I'm jus' surprised, but at least it explains the itty bitty crown y'was wearin'. Y'sure you're all right? Perhaps we should make our way inside an' sit down a spell, have some drinks."

Beat.

"Anythin' but tea."