[A] Quiet Contemplation {Drinian!}

• Storyline
• Rules
• Staff Roster
• Canon List
• Character Application
• Available Creatures

[Character of the Month]

Character of the Month
Prince Caspian

Read the Application
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."
Character of the Month Archive

<a href="http://intonarnia.com/index.php" target="_blank"><img src="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y24/Jennifu/Images/Narnia/IntoNarniaAffiliateBadge.png"></a>

[We've moved!]

We've moved!

[Corinna]

She liked the quiet. Or maybe she needed the quiet. Whatever it was about silence, about the lack of interaction with anyone, she seemed to thrive on it. Corinna was certainly not the sort to give in to idle chatter; she only spoke when speech was necessary and she preferred to observe a any situation she encountered over being an active participant in it. And this was why, even if she’d wished it otherwise, she was very much alone and had been so for most of her life. She did not hate being alone, per se, but it seemed to come hand in hand with her love of the quiet. Most tended to think that she was odd, perhaps a little suspicious, to see her watching. She was a woman going nowhere in particular; wandering from place to place when she felt so inclined, observing one person than the next until they bored her. There were some people, however, that never seemed to bore her. A select view that she had taken great pleasure in observing, off and on, for several years. They rarely knew she was there as she was quick, when she wanted to be, soft-stepped, and had an uncanny ability to be able to blend into her surroundings.

At the moment, she had taken to observing the activity around the building of a huge bridge. Corinna took great disliking to the bridge – it seemed a terrible sort of situation and very much of a violation to the being who was apparently unlucky enough to be living there. Too, she wondered if it would have any sort of impact on other bodies of water nearby. She hoped not, but she couldn’t help but watch closely, worried that they might start to dump things in the water, their refuse, their trash. She was particularly sensitive about that issue, having dealt with the trouble it caused, personally. She didn’t really like humans, and she certainly didn’t trust them. There was something so dishonest about them, so ungrateful, they weren’t steadfast like the animals, like the spirits. She held a great deal of interest for the humans, certainly, but not trust. Never trust.

She wasn’t sitting near the water. While Corinna would have loved to have been near the water, while she would have loved to have been there, able to feel it, there were too many people. Far too many people for her to go unnoticed. And she’d come to the unhappy conclusion that people tended to stare when she was among them, if she didn’t go to great pains to hide herself or make herself difficult to spot. And as she hadn’t really the motivation or means at present, here, to disguise herself, she would have to settle with sitting a little ways away from the water, watching it wistfully. She missed her own home very much but she was on a quest. Sort of. She really did want her daughter back, but with no idea of where to look, she was in quite the terrible spot.

So she sat and observed, like she always did, partially hidden by the trees. She half listened to the hum of noise made by those building the bridge a little ways away, half lost in her own thoughts. What was going on, other than the bridge building, she wasn’t sure. There seemed to be some tension running high, but she didn’t know what it was. She was curious, though, everything made her curious.

Ooc: Hope I posted this in the right spot. I couldn't totally remember what we had been saying. >.> lol

[Lord Drinian]

Drinian had found himself treading along the same familiar path he had often tread when he wished to think. The Bernalese shore of the River Telmar. Now, however, he was not alone. He was never alone with these armies upon his land. And soon, there would be blood in the soil, if a solution was not found. They had already taken over the water; the bridge, though it would connect him to Beruna, would ruin any dream of self-autonomy. Would subject his people to the greater Telmar which he had tried to insulate his people from. It would leave him vulnerable.

Shaking his head in disgust, he turned away from the working men -- none of his own; and a small mercy in that -- and picked his way through the trees and into the forest, where he took a deeper breath and looked up through the canopy of leaves to the green-fringed sky. Through the trees, he caught a glimpse of the assemblage of men, gathered to construct the bridge. Drinian walked faster, but he still heard their voices.

As he increased his speed, Drinian's view of the river became blurred. His feet moved faster until he was nearly running, halting only when, with a sudden, sinking feeling, he felt himself snap forward as his foot was jerked behind him, caught on something. It took all his ability to recover on hands and knees, looking back at his foot and grimacing painfully. Turned, not sprained, he decided as he looked down at the fallen, vine-covered branch which had ensnared it. Thinner than his arm, but just as long. Tugging on it, he pulled it free from its bonds. He inspected it a moment, shifting it in his hands before rising to his full height.

He could hear their hammers and saws. He thought of Glozelle and their conversation. How very superior he had looked, how condescending when looking at Drinian; and how very right he had been to look at him that way. Drinian -- powerless. A mere captain. A young lord. Caspian's friend. A traitor in their midst. And Glozelle, now over the bridge that brought them to his land. Whose duty it was to ensure the one thing Drinian had sworn to prevent: a loss of power. A loss of land. A loss of credibility. All he had worked for. All he feared losing; not for himself as much as his people. His mother. Though he'd like to see himself out of this as well. Gritting his teeth, he swung the branch with the force of a battleaxe at a nearby tree, hearing with satisfaction the crack of wood upon wood. Feeling the branch splinter and split; to finally yield.

His smile faded when he dropped the branch to the ground, however. He saw then the white gash upon the tree's trunk, the orange sap beginning to seep through the tender, exposed flesh.

Silently, he moved toward the tree trunk, running his fingers delicately over the wound before resting his forehead against the rough bark. He exhaled in a huff. One did not apologise to trees -- verbally -- but Drinian could not help the knot of guilt in his stomach and the shame in himself for his loss of control. He'd already lost enough; he couldn't start losing himself in this.

[Corinna]

Corinna heard someone coming long before she bothered to glance up and look around. She rarely seemed bothered by anything – she never stopped to think that whomever might come barrelling through the forest might mean her harm. She was only wary because she did not wish to be drawn into a conversation, wary because someone might take some interest in her and that went very much against her desire for quiet and solitude. Granted, that desire was obviously shifting somewhat, if she wanted her child back. If she’d allowed herself to even get to the point where she might have a child in the first place. Nevertheless, she was a lonesome sort of person, and she preferred it. Perhaps because in being alone, she could happily continue on in her naive belief that while perhaps humans weren’t be trusted because they were ignorant and selfish, they would do her no harm.

She didn’t understand that it was the beings like herself that the Telmarines were so eager to permanently eradicate. She was far less careful than she should have been.

Corinna rose to her full height, though kept herself hidden behind some brush, when she spotted a young man approach. The figure was not foreign to her, she’d seen him before. Numerous times, actually; he had been one of her primary focuses of interest these last few months – perhaps years, she wasn’t sure. Regardless, it had been a while that she had been observing the young man who went by the name Drinian. Lord Drinian, perhaps? She knew little of, and cared little for, titles. They didn’t make any sense to her, she would never get them all straight. She hardly understood a need for any sort of hierarchy at all – though she supposed that when the rest of the nymphs awoke, they might have a similar system of distinguishing. Well, not quite so fickle, she decided with a smug sense of superiority. Naiads in particular were creatures of –

She was drawn abruptly from her thoughts at the rough sound of wood against wood. Startled, she looked to the young man who had seen fit to take a branch to the bark of a mighty tree. Corinna couldn’t understand why he would do that, why he would harm the tree in such a way. She felt sorely for its poor inhabitant, who, even in its sleep, must have shuddered a little in that blow. Who must now feel, at least a little, the loss of that sap the same as a man might feel the sting of a cut, might scramble to wrap it up in order to keep the blood inside him. Corinna had seen men wounded, she’d seen how their women tended to them, doted on them, tied them up nice and tight. Or how they had been forced to do it when their women were not nearby. And that poor tree, still asleep, could do nothing to help itself.

Moving forward, her eyes wide with curiosity, Corinna abandoned her hiding spot and approached the tree to stand next to Drinian, who had his head against the trunk. She moved with such quiet fluidity, she wondered if he would even notice her until her hand was already reaching out, her fingers brushing against the rough wood. “Why would you do such a thing?” She asked, pained, as she looked the poor tree over. At least it wasn’t too badly hurt – it had only been a branch, not an axe, that had been struck against it. Still, it was terribly unwarranted. “I was watching; the tree did nothing to you. And it sleeps – how do you expect it to defend itself?” Granted, he probably didn’t want the tree to defend itself. If it had, he might have been flung half way across the forest, depending on what sort of dryad lived within.

Corinna hadn’t thought she’d have seen such an act from him. He hadn’t seemed the sort – though even she knew she wasn’t always the best judge of character. “How disappointing.” Her words, probably sounding a little like a chastisement, were quiet as she brushed her fingers against the bark of the tree once more before turning to walk away. So much for her desire to remain hidden.

[Lord Drinian]

Drinian had not anticipated company -- he'd come here to be alone. So when he heard the light, silvery voice just at his side, he spun round quickly, taking three steps back defensively.

And his defensive stance did not end there.

“Why would you do such a thing? I was watching; the tree did nothing to you. And it sleeps – how do you expect it to defend itself?”

He felt, as a bolt of energy, an energising surge of defiance. "Because," he responded -- voice not raised but emotions high -- "one can only take so much.  I cannot--one cannot give anymore. Protect anymore. At least I cannot," he said, noting her strange countenance with sharp eyes before turning away.

Such curiosity he now held for this mysterious woman would normally outstrip other emotions, but Drinian was in a solitary, angry mood. Did she not see how he wished to be alone? Would she deny him that last solace? He could not be everything required of him all the time. This had all begun since his childhood--the end of his childhood, with the death of his father. When he'd become lord, he realised that he had to give all he could to those above him who would demand it of him. They would take it of him. Miraz had made this infinitely clear. And then, it was his duty -- his other duty, the one other Lords neglected -- to ensure that he gave all he could to those who could not give of themselves. The weak and the poor. Those beneath him. His duty to protect.

All this was, in theory, the role of being a lord. But it meant giving to those who either would not or could not give back. And it left nothing for him. Drinian had neither friend nor family nor cause nor feeling he could embrace openly. He gave his heart to Caspian and his mother, his money, land, and men to Miraz, his time and efforts to his people. And here, he was alone. Threatened. Vulnerable.

Because he'd given away his defenses to those who needed them.

"“How disappointing.”

Drinian might have said the words himself. He was not enough for everyone. He set his jaw and took several more steps through the brush before pausing and calling softly over his shoulder, "I care little what you think of me, lady. I know, at least, that I have no obligation to you."

The words were so very uncharacteristic, so against everything that he held and had acted upon, that Drinian had scarcely said them before he grimaced at their sound.  He did not know her, though that was precisely the point. He wanted to be free of the invisible expectation she was now placing upon him. Yet another call to give he could not meet. He added, "I just want to be alone. Please." Though, that too wasn't quite right. Drinian didn't want to be alone. He wanted the support of those who he supported. He wanted, for once, the assurance that he'd done right. But he did not want to be here, on this Telmarine side. He did not want to be in this war, and he did not want to be conversing with this stranger.

"Please."

[Corinna]

She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, but his words certainly weren’t the reaction she’d thought she’d draw from him. Corinna had taken a great interest in this one; he had been fascinating to her. And that was what she’d done with her days – finding someone of interest to observe. So while she’d turned away, frustrated at actually allowing herself to be seen... she turned back as her curiosity was renewed. Why, that didn’t sound much like him at all. Not that she knew him. Corinna would admit that much. She’d never had any real contact with him. She’d simply observed from afar. So perhaps he wasn’t quite what she’d thought. Frowning a little, she lifted a brow, taking a few steps after Drinian despite the fact that he’d said he’d like to be alone. She felt little need to follow social protocol. Sure, he had requested some space. But Corinna felt no need to oblige.

“No,” she agreed quietly, “of course you have no obligation to me. I never said as much.” Folding her arms loosely in front of her, she took a couple of steps forward so she was next to him once more. “And I suspect few care very much at all, what I think of them. It does not bother me.” She did not make observations for the sake of anyone but herself. Her observations were for her own interest, they were to keep her busy, to keep her entertained. Rarely did her points of interest even know they were being quietly observed. Because she meant no harm. She never interacted with them, and it wasn’t as though she watched them with any bad intent. People just tended to... fascinate her.

Not one to talk for the sake of talking, Corinna fell silent as she thought through her options. Perhaps she should keep quiet, perhaps she should respect his wishes. Granted, who she was and what she was doing there were probably questions that warranted an explanation. She combed her fingers through her hair, debating the possibility of either walking away, or introducing herself. She could understand a want for quiet – that was how she spent most of her days. Silence was pleasant, but sometimes company could be too. Though, it wasn’t like she was very good company. She didn’t say much, and she was wary. He didn’t want her there anyway, but then, that didn’t really matter. She went where she wanted, not where she was told. Besides, now that she’d stepped out of the security of keeping hidden, she might as well make the best of the situation.  At least now she could observe from up close.

Sighing, Corinna gave him a half smile. “You have a lot on your shoulders,” she commented. She didn’t understand what was going on, why so many people were assembling, why everything seemed so hectic. But it seemed as though it was a whole lot of trouble. “Will slinking through the forest, alone and upset, help? I pity the poor trees in your path, then. Bushes too.” A wry smile upon her face, Corinna turned to cast a slightly longing look in the direction of the water before slowly returning her gaze to him.

[Lord Drinian]

Her assertions were independent and seemed to drift free of society's dictums. That she could remain strong under the eyes of scrutiny -- it was what was required of Drinian, he knew, as he was viewed with skepticism by the Telmarine Lords and must soon be viewed as one of them to Caspian's Narnians -- with whom Drinian would unite if Caspian wished it and Drinian could afford it. He considered the lady. He felt -- and had little doubt -- that she was no Telmarine. Likely no human. her complexion could only be an Archenlander's, but Drinian would be -- or at least ought to be -- the first to know of such travelers. Though, he supposed, they were still on Glozelle's land.

His fascination with her kept for a moment the bitterness at bay and, as she mentioned with some sympathy that he seemed to feel a great burden upon his shoulders, Drinian lifted up his hand to her, to stop her retreat.

However, at her last comment, Drinian's hand recoiled back to his side, jaw tensed, and he expelled his breath through his nose, his expression something of a scowl. "Pity the trees and bushes all you like, lady -- see if it profits them any. But it will only cause you more grief to see what must become of them; pity, sympathy, and care are the weapons of the weak and cannot fight the tyranny of the strong."

Setting his jaw and lowering his brows, he added, "But I, at least, shan't be swinging any more branches; it didn't help." He looked back at the tree, a small, lonely feeling filling him as he watched the weeping wound. "I feel more like that tree now than it could ever know." The confession now out, his reprimand accepted and his contrition professed, he looked at her. "There. Are you satisfied?" And he could not help, even now, he realised, to try meeting the demands of a stranger.

"You ought not to be here. This is soon to be a battlefield and it were better you were gone from it," he offered with an eventual distance. His face, however, expressed some of the customary concern for another as well as the hunger to be free from all this.

It were better he were gone from it. Would only that he could.

[Corinna]

It seemed to her that he’d taken some sort of offense to her words – something that certainly had not been Corinna’s intention. But she had limited experience in actually talking to the people that she observed. She had limited experience in talking to much of anyone, actually. If the other naiads had been awake... maybe she would have kept company with them. Maybe. But they weren’t, and she’d spent most of her life virtually alone. And so she was rather unaware of boundaries – physical boundaries, verbal boundaries, social boundaries... they meant little, if anything to her. So it was inevitable that she would say something that would cause irritation in someone. On the plus side, he’d seemed to start to warm to her – a little, and it was only fleeting – so she supposed all was not lost. She just had to figure out what she’d said that had been positive, and what she’d said that had been negative. It was a learning process. At least she wasn’t completely at a loss. All her people watching had left her with some knowledge. Apparently not enough, but it would have to suffice.

He told her that pitying the trees would only cause her greater grief later, when she saw what would happen to them. It sounded ominous, but she had the greatest confidence that they would wake up in time to protect themselves from anything too terrible happening to them. “They will be fine,” she said with a quiet sort of confidence, “eventually, when the time is right, they’ll make their presence known. They’ll protect themselves.” She had every hope that one day, one day soon, she would walk among those like herself. And she would relish such an honour. “And I think... I think that tree will forgive you.” To her, such talk did not seem strange. She knew full well that such things – trees, bodies of water, and such – were not only what they appeared to be. They were as alive as the young man standing before her. It did not occur to her that he or anyone else might doubt such a fact. “As far as I have heard, they are not overly vengeful creatures and you are quite apparently distressed. Perhaps they will feel sympathy for you.”

His following words confused her a little, and she tilted her head to the side, listening. “A battlefield?” Was that something she ought to be wary of? Then, deciding it probably didn’t matter much – if it was particularly important, surely she would know something about it – she straightened her back and shook her head. “I’ll be fine here. I fear no... battlefield.” |If worst came to worst, she could go to the river. She’d like to be there now, but she had an odd interest in this... conversation. If one could even call it such. It wasn’t much of one – she’d managed to upset him and she hadn’t meant to do that at all. In that moment, she wished she was a better conversationalist – that she’d had means and desire for further... practice. Here she was, face to face with a person she’d been studying for a while now and she had no idea what she should say. And if she’d meant to fit in, if she’d meant to keep from drawing attention to herself, she certainly wasn’t doing a very good job.

“You are an intriguing man, Lord Drinian,” she said with a small smile. “And, from what I can tell, a good man, though you take too much upon yourself.” That said, she turned and moved farther into the forest, chastising herself for making her presence known and for speaking at all.

((ooc: he could let her wander off.. or he could go after her, wondering how she knows his  name as they were never introduced. xD Now it’s time for me to sleep. Lol))

[Lord Drinian]

She spoke lightly, quietly, and familiarly of the trees. Drinian shook his head slowly, sadly. Her optimism was heartening and pure, but it would not withstand a battle.

She must leave. He was made anxious by the knowledge of his name, the familiarity with which she spoke of him, like the trees. He knew this much: she was a living myth of Narnia and if it was found out that he had spoken with her, that they knew one another, it would be a hazard to them both. He would not learn her name. He would learn nothing of her. Knowledge could never be used against her if he did not have it. And after all this, perhaps he might seek to know more of her. For now, he needed to be free of this. And she needed to be gone.

"If the trees will protect themselves, you must do the same. Do it by leaving here." He motioned strongly away from the river, from the men congregated, sawing and hammering. From the tents and the smoke. "Please. You are right in one thing -- I might have taken on too much. Please spare me the need to protect you and protect yourself. Your danger here is needless. You may go. That is more than any of us who must remain to fight can say."

[Corinna]

He seemed so earnest to have her gone; Corinna was quite sure it was out of concern, and not ill wishes. Not a dislike of her presence so much, as a worry that her presence could be dangerous. How it could possibly be dangerous, she wasn’t sure, however. In fact, she wasn’t sure about a lot of things. She observed him curiously, wondering at his urgency. But it wasn’t as though she could ask him to explain; there were probably a good many things that had lead up to this moment and contributed to the reason of why this place might be dangerous to her. It hadn’t seemed dangerous, but then, what did she know?

Corinna glanced away, wondering where she ought to go, if indeed this place was not safe for her. She could wander back to her stream, of course, but it appeared there was a great deal that was about to go on and she’d like very much to observe. Her stream probably would not be the best place for such observations. Perhaps she should simply move inwards through the forest and see what she might find there. Perhaps she might find others awake, like herself! The thought brightened her considerably. Yes, moving deeper into the forest might be a good move.

“I will go,” she replied softly, “because it seems to mean a great deal to you – though I can’t confess to understanding why.” She gave him a small smile then turned. “We will meet again, sir, I am quite sure of that.” Indeed, she was, because she would see to it. He interested her, and he always had. He was quite unlike the others that she’d observed; he was no so selfish as they. Not that she couldn’t be selfish – she just didn’t see it as such. Moving away from him, she quickly disappeared among the foliage and set off to see if there were perhaps any others of her kind awake and to be found.

((sorry, that was ridiculously lame, but I haven’t posted in a bit and my muse is totally dead. Lol.))