[X] Anywhere but here (Michala, any Telmarines) [INACTIVE]

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[Character of the Month]

Character of the Month
Prince Caspian

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Played by Cara

"Cara has managed to...create a character that is both mythical and life-like. Impulsive, moody, and yet kind and good-hearted, Caspian is just beginning to show the makings of a true leader."
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[Gavin Owen]

Gavin had gone through hell and back trying to get all of his twenty-odd birds to Miraz's camp in one trip without killing anyone. Not only did each bird require its own cage for the trip, but each also required food to keep them comfortable. Twenty (inhabited) bird cages were not easy to pack onto the wagons that had been sent for him, especially when the soldier in charge had kept yelling at him to hurry up. He also had to load up all of his equipment; hoods, lures, tethers, gloves, the whole bit. After spending hours packing the wagons, they were finally on their way. Unfortunately, this was not the end of Gavin’s troubles. He was forced to stop the group several times a day for more than a few hours to feed and fly each bird. This, needless to say, slowed the progress of the group and took its toll on Gavin's tolerance for Miraz’s men. There had been more than a few occasions where Gavin had completely let loose at several of the soldiers that traveled with him. These little incidents would not help to put him on good terms with the king.

Once he finally reached the camp, it almost killed him to reverse the process he had gone through before traveling. The unpacking was almost as bad as the packing had been. He had to move all twenty some birds from the wagon to the small shelter that they were to reside in until the end of the war. To the great annoyance of Gavin, Miraz had refused to give the birds a shelter like the one they had lived in back at the town. Instead, each bird stayed in its individual cage in an uncomfortably small tent at the edge of the camp. It had taken all of Gavin’s mental and emotional strength to keep himself from beating the messenger half to death when he had informed Gavin of Miraz’s decision. Luckily, Gavin had been given his own tent next to the birds. He had been very relieved to hear that he would not be sharing a tent.

Because of the horribly unacceptable and different conditions in which they were forced to live, Gavin had to fly each of the birds more often then he usually did. The barn they usually inhabited was much more open than the cramp little cages they had been given. Nevertheless, Gavin was glad to have an excuse to avoid dealing with the crude soldiers that  ran around the camp. He had grown to despise most of them. The majority of them seemed to have nothing better to do then to taunt him about his work with the birds. Luckily, the birds required his constant attention and gave him little opportunity to fight with the soldiers.

A few days after his arrival, Gavin had already fallen into his usual schedule. Get up, breakfast, work with the birds, lunch, work with the birds, supper, and finally, work with the birds until he was exhausted and went to bed.  While he was so used to this routine that he knew nothing would ever change, he was happy. This was true on a very sunny day. He was near the camp flying Torin, a surprisingly small and stubborn golden eagle. Next to Gawain, Torin was one of Gavin’s favorite birds. The way the sun shined off his golden feathers was amazing. The unfortunate thing was that Torin was a very stubborn and rebellious bird. He was young and still in need of a lot of training.

[Lady Michala Harran]

Lady Michala Harran wanted to go home. This was no surprise, nor was it news to anyone at the camp. She’d been stupid in coming here and now she was stuck. So she was trying with everything in her to make the best of a bad situation. It didn’t look like it was working, especially because some of the women here seemed to have it out for the young woman. Michala thought they were dull witted and irritating; most of them were poorer women, here because what else were they going to do? And when Michala had thought herself above their menial tasks, they’d taken to telling her what to do. They were technically in charge of her, and they lorded it over her. Oh when this war was over, she swore to herself as she scrubbed laundry in the river, they were going to regret how they’d treated her! Her parents would hear about it, they would do something, surely. Of course, it was her fault that she was here but that didn’t matter. They had no right to speak to her as though they were her superior, never mind her equals!

There, she thought smugly, the laundry was clean. It had only taken her several hours and her whole body ached. She knew that if someone else had done it, someone who was actually accustomed to these sorts of trivial, domestic tasks, it would have only taken half the time. But no, they’d insisted she do it. Lugging the basket of sopping wet laundry, Michala dropped it at the feet of one of the women and darted off before some other task could be assigned her. She was miserable here; her hands were sore and red, dry, cracking. Soon the smoothness of her hands that she’d so prided herself on would be gone. And once it was gone, it was unlikely that she’d get it back. Not any time soon. Sighing as she wandered through the camp, she thought with much regret about when she’d come. And why. And how silly she’d been to think she’d make it as a soldier – or that she’d not be caught for who she really was. A young woman, and a rather useless one at that.

She needed a little space, she wanted to get away from the camp. She hadn’t a clue where she would go, but she knew if she wanted to avoid further tasks, she had to be away from where the old bats could find her. Out of sight, out of mind. Hopefully.

Michala walked slowly for a little, until she grew tired of walking. Stopping to survey the area, she saw nothing at first then, in the distance, a bird flying and a man standing, observing. It brought back a memory, however fleeting, and she moved forward a little quicker, intrigued. When she finally drew close enough to make out the appearance of the man, she couldn’t fight the little grin. Finally a friendly face! She’d met him before. They’d only met once, granted, but he’d certainly seemed nice enough to her that one time!

Approaching – careful of the bird, not sure what it would do – Michala stood a few feet away and wondered if she ought to say something. She didn’t want to interrupt, but she didn’t want to wander away without saying anything either!

“Hello!” She called brightly, waving a little. “Oh hello!”

[Gavin Owen]

The horrible trip to the camp had put Gavin in something of a sour mood that had lasted through the last few days. Despite himself, he was very close to just giving up on Torin. The bird was so stubborn that Gavin had to call him several times before the bird returned to him. Twice already the bird had disappeared from view. The young falconer was curious about this bird as it seemed he was the only one who had a habit of disappearing. The others seemed very content with their lives. This, though, was the reason  Torin was one of Gavin’s favorite birds. He would get the bird to obey him. One day.

Giving up on Torin for the day, Gavin headed back into the tent to ‘exchange’ birds. After a moment of fighting to put Torin back in his little cage, Gavin coaxed Rhoswen onto his arm. He was a little reluctant to take Rhoswen out, as he always was. Because of her white color, the falcon had a tendency to blend in with the clouds when she was flying. Fortunately, she, unlike Torin, was very obedient and was happy to return to Gavin as long as he had a treat waiting for her.

Taking her outside, Gavin was pleased to see that the sky was a brilliant blue. Letting her take flight, he began to swing the lure around in a large circle at his side. Rhoswen was one of the more agile birds and made sharp turns as she dove for the lure. As he watched her, he heard someone behind him speak.

“Hello!”

Gavin called Rhoswen  to him and turned around as she settled on his arm. He was relieved to see someone who he could actually talk to standing behind him. “Lady Harran,” he greeted her with a smile and a small bow of the head. Since they had already met, Gavin was pretty comfortable in her presence. Well, as comfortable as a simple farmer could be in the presence of a noble. “It is very nice to see you.” As she waved he noticed that her hands looked a little red and rough. “What happened to your hands,” he asked, a little concerned.

[Lady Michala Harran]

Yes it was a pleasure to see him again. A friendly face. Someone who, she was quite sure, wanted to be here as little, if not less, than she. He didn’t seem like the violent sort, nor the stupid sort like some of the young men here. If Michala read the situation correctly, maybe he was here because he didn’t have any choice in the matter. Few men did. Few of anyone did, really, if Miraz saw use for their services. Miraz was not a gracious king but then, Michala knew nothing of war and politics and ruling a country. Perhaps it was impossible to be a gracious king. How could she know? She would just wander blindly through it, this war, and be on whichever side was better for her. It would definitely be the best way to get through this.

“Oh it isn’t anything,” she said lightly, pushing her hands behind her back so he couldn’t see them. She didn’t feel like drawing attention to the sore, frustrated mess she’d turned herself into. “I’m just... not used to this, is all.” She really, really wasn’t. She was useless, mostly, and it showed. So she was glad to be here for a while, away from the camp, away from the responsibilities that people liked to throw on her --  just because then they could watch her fail. There were an awful lot of people who liked to watch her fail, and she really didn’t understand. But no amount of arguing was going to change anything. They didn’t like her now, and they certainly never would.

Taking a deep breath, Michala gave him a warm smile. “And how do you enjoy camp life, Mr Owen?” She asked, amusement lacing her tone. “Is it not absolutely fantastic, being here for some greater purpose? To fight some war... against the king’s nephew?” Raising an eyebrow, she couldn’t help the faint grin that lifted the corner of her lips. Her voice was laced with sarcasm, her eyes dancing with mischief. “And what brings the falconer way out here? Does the king have need of you, too?” Her words, her tone, could probably get her in trouble. If there was anyone else here. But there wasn’t, and Gavin didn’t seem the sort to go and get her into trouble. So she’d say what she wanted to say, and hope he would simply appreciate the company.

Dropping down into the grass, she stretched her feet out in front of her and looked cheerily up at him, hoping he wouldn’t send her away.

[Gavin Owen]

Gavin frowned when Michala asked how he liked the camp. “I don’t like being here,” he said, a little angry, “and neither do the birds. They’ve been forced to live in cramped little cages until the war ends. Most of them aren’t trained to do what the king wants them to do and the soldiers aren’t the most pleasant people to be around.” Gavin was careful when he spoke. He took care not to insult Miraz. There were some sketchy characters hanging around the camp and he never knew when they could be listening in. Gavin was sure that any one of the soldiers would turn in anyone they could if they thought it would put them on good terms with Miraz. The sickening thought that came to Gavin’s mind was that Miraz would not hesitate to roast one of his birds if he thought Gavin should be punished.

“King Miraz expects the birds to carry messages,” Gavin explained, “Though I don’t know to whom. From what I’ve seen, anyone he’d ever need to contact is already here and at his disposal. I’m not even sure how to train them to do this.” He looked back to the bird’s tent sadly. How he wished that he had not taken the job as the king’s falconer all those years ago. If only he’d known before hand all the trouble that he’d go through. He would have liked to join Michala on the ground, but it would have been awkward sitting down with the bird on his arm. Just simply sitting would have been awkward with Rhoswen.

Gavin understood Michala’s working problem. While he wasn’t a stranger to good old manual labor, he had come across such issues before, such as when the family had had a cousin visit their farm. The young man had never worked on a farm and the Owen family fully expected him to earn his keep. By the end of his stay, the poor lad could barely move without help he was so sore. “I have some salve you could rub on your hands,” he offered, feeling a little bad about returning to the topic of the lady’s hands, even though he knew she didn’t want to draw attention to them, “I myself use it often when one of the bird’s talons catch me. My mother makes it.” He kept the salve in the birds tent and he needed to put Rhoswen back in her cage anyway. She’d had enough for today and he still had most of the birds to exercise.

[Lady Michala Harran]

Michala pitied him. Him and his lovely birds, though she’d not admit as much. Because as much as she pitied him, she pitied herself even more. At least he was of some use here. She wasn’t of much use to anyone! And it was a terrible, terrible feeling; even more so because there were many here who liked to rub in the fact that she knew nothing about... well, anything. At the very least, she was good at getting other people – like the young soldiers – to do her work. “Of course you don’t like being here,” she said with a wry smile, “no one likes being here. Why should they?” Indeed, Miraz’s camp was a rather depressing place. Dirty, crowded... people were hungry and tired and frustrated. And while maybe that was just a typical war camp, it seemed silly to Michala when there hadn’t even been any battles fought yet.

The king wanted the birds to carry messages? Michala furrowed her brows. What an odd request! He had a good point; who would Miraz need messages carried to, anyway? “Maybe he wants messages carried back to his castle?” She suggested, though really she hadn’t a clue. “Maybe... maybe he wants to communicate with his wife? Or his advisors... surely he must have left someone in charge back there; else it would be too easy for that little rebellion to just swoop in and take over the castle. If there was no one there, I mean.” She was rambling and she knew it. All over again, Michala felt stupid. She didn’t know anything about war or fighting or who needed to send messages to whom. It was all a little over her head. “Well... I hope you figure out whatever it is you need to.”

She felt her cheeks turn pink when once again he returned the conversation to the poor state of her hands. She really ought to be more careful about hiding them. She didn’t like the questions, especially because it made her all the more aware of how useless she was. He offered her some salve, for her hands, and Michala was quite ready to turn him down, but then, the thought did sound welcoming. Her poor hands ached, and it made any further work such a struggle. Besides, what could it hurt? She smiled wryly, pulled herself to her feet, and clasped her hands – painfully – behind her back. “Thank you. Perhaps... perhaps that might be nice. It’s very kind of you.” What she’d give to have her hands not so... sore! She’d follow him then, and be grateful for the show of kindness. He really was quite nice.