be like water tease
Nov. 5th, 2008 07:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bedlamsbardOnce more, I fail at...I don't know. Went to Take Back the Night tonight, except I didn't know anybody and everyone else was there in groups, so...not the greatest time ever. But at least I went.
“May I know the name of the woman who has me at sword-point?” Glozelle inquires politely.
Peta leans down, her face very close to his, although her sword doesn’t waver, and says against the side of his face, “The name is Peta the Magnificent, High Queen of Narnia.” She straightens. “Now tell me how many men Miraz has.”
“Far more than you can muster, I assure you,” Glozelle says, his voice calm. He doesn’t seem at all surprised to find a legend stepped out of thin air to stand beside him, a sword that’s as much of a legend as Peta herself at his throat. Caspian has always envied the man his preternatural calm, and he still does. He’s tight with tension, vibrating with it, and he’s suddenly very aware of everything around him; the faint sounds outside the tent as the Narnians continue on with their raid, the sword beside Glozelle’s bed, the precariousness of their situation, trapped in the heart of the Telmarine camp with no easy way out except death.
His eyes on Peta, Caspian steps around the opposite side of the bed to pick up Glozelle’s sword, and sees Peta glance at him and nod in approval. He puts the sheathed blade down carefully on the folding table in a corner of the tent and reaches for the map there, stopping only when he sees the counters on it. He looks up at Peta with wide eyes and gestures to it.
“What?” she says, attention distracted as she looks over, and Glozelle snatches his hand out from beneath his pillow and buries a dagger in her side.
“May I know the name of the woman who has me at sword-point?” Glozelle inquires politely.
Peta leans down, her face very close to his, although her sword doesn’t waver, and says against the side of his face, “The name is Peta the Magnificent, High Queen of Narnia.” She straightens. “Now tell me how many men Miraz has.”
“Far more than you can muster, I assure you,” Glozelle says, his voice calm. He doesn’t seem at all surprised to find a legend stepped out of thin air to stand beside him, a sword that’s as much of a legend as Peta herself at his throat. Caspian has always envied the man his preternatural calm, and he still does. He’s tight with tension, vibrating with it, and he’s suddenly very aware of everything around him; the faint sounds outside the tent as the Narnians continue on with their raid, the sword beside Glozelle’s bed, the precariousness of their situation, trapped in the heart of the Telmarine camp with no easy way out except death.
His eyes on Peta, Caspian steps around the opposite side of the bed to pick up Glozelle’s sword, and sees Peta glance at him and nod in approval. He puts the sheathed blade down carefully on the folding table in a corner of the tent and reaches for the map there, stopping only when he sees the counters on it. He looks up at Peta with wide eyes and gestures to it.
“What?” she says, attention distracted as she looks over, and Glozelle snatches his hand out from beneath his pillow and buries a dagger in her side.