Caspian X (
the_seafarer) wrote2023-02-11 10:26 pm
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[au] Narnia and the North
There's a chill bite to the air, these days. The horses have been growing out their winter coats, and they look shaggy and plump as Caspian turns them out into the paddocks. Behind the stables, in the makeshift woodshop he'd cobbled together, the sleigh from his drawings is starting to come together.
He hopes he'll have it finished by Christmas. With a little luck, and maybe some assistance, he thinks it should be possible. The tack, he's largely left up to Susan's devices, though he'd commission Gimli the dwarf for the various buckles and other metal pieces they'll need.
Once the horses are turned out, he gets to his other morning chores with a will, whistling cheerfully as he does. The stable stays strangely quiet around him. It takes him the better part of an hour to realize the strangeness is because he's become accustomed to Susan's cheerful presence working alongside him, talking or humming or simply working in companionable silence.
Caspian pauses in his task – refilling the grain chest – and looks around. Susan's nowhere to be seen, and when he later wanders through the stables, checking each stall and outside, he can't find her there, either.
He hopes he'll have it finished by Christmas. With a little luck, and maybe some assistance, he thinks it should be possible. The tack, he's largely left up to Susan's devices, though he'd commission Gimli the dwarf for the various buckles and other metal pieces they'll need.
Once the horses are turned out, he gets to his other morning chores with a will, whistling cheerfully as he does. The stable stays strangely quiet around him. It takes him the better part of an hour to realize the strangeness is because he's become accustomed to Susan's cheerful presence working alongside him, talking or humming or simply working in companionable silence.
Caspian pauses in his task – refilling the grain chest – and looks around. Susan's nowhere to be seen, and when he later wanders through the stables, checking each stall and outside, he can't find her there, either.
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As they come up to her room, he steps forward to open the door for her.
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"I'll not be long," she promises.
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He steps over to the window, looking out over the Milliways grounds as he waits for her, thinking over all they might need. Blankets, food and water – something warm to drink. The Pevensies had those marvelous flasks that could keep coffee and tea hot for hours, didn't they?
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She's rolling up a sleeve as she crosses over to join him by the window. "What are thee looking at?"
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He turns to her and smiles, reaching to fold her collar a little more smoothly. "Now, how about that breakfast?"
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Susan glances around the room, checking to make sure all's as it should be, and gives him a nod. "Let's go."
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(life to the crop)
Her glance travels over the arrangements of colorful ears of corn in their shucks and stalks, taking in the melons and gourds and hay-bales stacked, the few cheerful stuffy-guys in farmers' clothing with straw at their wrists and smiles painted on their faces.
(death to you)
After a moment that feels far, far too long, she makes herself draw a harsh, shuddering breath. She lets it out in turn like a sigh as she straightens her shoulders.
"If ever I were doubting before, I'd no longer," she says, a little dryly. "It's Reaping-Day today for certain."
(come, Reap)
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"Shall we take our breakfast at the stable, instead of here in the bar?"
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Fortunately, it's still early yet, and there aren't many patrons out and about just yet. Caspian gives the bowls of brightly wrapped sweets on the bartop a curious glance as they come to it, but otherwise ignores the decorations. "Good morning," he tells the bar, politely. "May we have a little breakfast to take out to the stables? Some coffee and tea and..."
He looks over at Susan, trying to think of what she might be able to stomach. "Perhaps some porridge?"
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Susan shakes her head, but manages a smile for him. "Not unless thee'd insist," she says, and oh, unlike with her aunt, if he does she'll choke it down somehow. "I'd do better with an orange or an apple, maybe a handful of nuts."
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In response, Bar offers a small basket into which is tucked several apples and oranges, a few packets of nuts, and the cheese he'd requested, along with one of those heat-saving flasks full of coffee and another of tea.
Caspian tucks both into the basket and hefts it. "Many thanks, Lady Bar."
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She reaches for the basket as if to take it from him, a flicker of laughter in her eyes. "I can carry it, if thee'd manage doors and the like."
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For the front door, he offers no glance; its song will be loud enough no matter where they are, he expects.
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(come rest come)
(come, Reap)
Susan draws a deep breath of the crisp air as they step outside, and looks up at the sky. No moon yet, not this early, and she's grateful for it.
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The stables, however, are as snug and cozy as could be, when he opens the door and guides her inside, and Susan's many charges give her a few sleepy greetings to see her so early.
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He reaches in to pull out one of the apples and polishes it on his sleeve before offering it to her.
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"When did 'Bert and Alain tell thee they'd come?"
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He takes an apple of his own and cleans it off, then bites into it.
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If anything, he's almost surprised the two gunslingers aren't here already, lurking about in wait.
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