[X] Sing Me A Song [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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[Myrrine Diodorus]

The Narnian camp was becoming too crowded and noisy for Myrrine's tastes. Somehow, everything had seemed to turn chaotic, and now with the visitors from this "King Miraz" it had only made matters worse. As soon as the Telmarines had come, Myrrine disappeared. She could not stand anything to do with them, and her trust in Caspian was on the verge of wavering due to his seemingly eager acceptance of the leading man. After watching from a safe place in the trees, Myrrine had come here.

The Dancing Lawn was so beautiful and peaceful. It had been left much too still for much too long, but its beauty was still the same. A faint smile graced the dryad's face as she drifted along the grassy lawn, reaching out occasionally to touch a flower or a tree trunk with her slender fingers. The life and growth within them seemed to radiate through her fingertips, and Myrrine tingled with the life they held. Breathing in the fragrance of nature, she seated herself beneath a tree and began to sing softly to herself.

The song spoke of days past: of fauns, and centaurs, and all kinds of spirits. It spoke of Aslan, of witches, of winter and of freedom. It told a story, it painted a picture: a shining kingdom, four great rulers, and a great lion who did more than anyone could ever see. It treasured joy, but shared the pain. It was beautiful.

Without realizing, Myrrine's soft voice slowly grew stronger. Her back leaning onto the bark of a tree, her eyes close, and face serene, Myrrine sang from her heart, becoming one with the music, wanting to stay in this moment forever.

[Reepicheep]

((OOC: Hope it's all right that I post here!))

Reepicheep raised his diminutive face to the sky, his delicate nose twitching almost invisibly as it took in the scents that floated by on the wind.  He had always had a keen sense of smell, as nearly all Mice did, really.  But now it was time to put it to good use.  Ever since Caspian had made himself known to the Old Narnians and asked for their aid, Reepicheep had been employing all of his tiny body as an instrument for the prince's cause.  Nothing particularly important had been done yet, of course, but Reepicheep was sure to be a part of the action, whenever it came.  That was, whenever those ruffian cowards decided to show their dirty faces and fight like men.

"Pah!" Reepicheep said aloud, disgust evident in his voice as he spat it.  All of the Narnians hated the Telmarines, but few with more vigor than the Mouse.  After all, few felt any feelings as the Mouse did.  What Reepicheep lacked in size, he made for in passionate emotions and opinions.  And pride.  One could not forget pride.  For it filled Reepicheep as blood did, honor coursing through his veins, keeping him alive.  Without it he would surely die; it was nearly all he had.  His honor, and his rapier.  They made up his identity more than nearly anything else.

More acute even than his sense of smell was the Mouse's sense of hearing.  And when he heard a soft voice in the distance, he followed it.  It was haunting and distinctly Narnian.  His little furred fingers drifting momentarily from the butt of the rapier over which they always hovered, he began to meander over to the source of the song, pulled inexplicably by the melody.  It was unlike nearly anything he had heard in quite some time.  Then again, there were many things that he had not experienced for a while that he dearly missed.  The Mouse had an excellent memory, which was convenient most of the time but also led to long periods of nostalgia.  This particular tune reminded him of when he was only a tiny Mouse (well, tinier than he was now), and his mother sang lullabies to him and Dryads told him dreams in song.

He wandered through the tall grasses of the lawn where the Narnians had once danced, where he could almost smell the ashes of bonfires held in the distant past, where Fauns had danced with Dryads who had long since gone dormant.  Following the voice in the breeze, his large rounded ears perked up to catch it, he made his way to the base of a tree.  There was a figure that sat up against it.  Reepicheep was not afraid, for there were few things of which Reepicheep was afraid.  And he knew at once that this was the source of the song.  His little body swaying in time to the almost inaudible music (or it would have been inaudible to others, anyway), he stood poker straight before the beautiful figure, saying nothing for a long moment as he relished the song.  After a pause, he bowed deeply, clapping his tiny paws together in polite appreciation.  "Lovely," he sighed.  "Lady, I thank you for the pleasure your song has given me."

[Myrrine Diodorus]

OOC: Of course! It was meant for absolutely anyone. And I adore Reepicheep, so it's a lovely thing to happen!

The melody had trickled through Myrrine's senses and taken her back in time. How can one describe the feelings of a child's heart, or the warm memories that come from those days of bliss? It swept over the dryad and enveloped her with bittersweet feelings from so many days gone past. The world was different now, but this song brought all the emotions back. Joy was once a part of life. Now she had to fight to find it.

Myrrine was so relaxed that she'd quite forgotten to worry about anything else. This moment had become about hope. The past was being represented, yes, but it spoke more of the future. It was a renewing reminder of what could be accomplished. It was not always easy to live, but there was always hope. Always.

A most startling interruption jerked Myrrine away from all her thoughts on the subject. She would surely not have been so greatly startled had she not been lost to the world, but, as it was, the dryad had completely lost all sense of anything happening around her. The only thing that had managed to slightly register in her mind was the birds chiming in with her song. But the suddenly sighed "lovely" almost made the dryad jump up from her tree.

Her eyes popped open, almost in fear, then softened just as quickly when she saw with whom she spoke. A little mouse - that was probably incorrect, for a mouse he was quite tall - stood before her, applauding her and bowing in arched perfection. A pleased smile graced Myrrine's features and she laughed ever so gently. "I am glad that it has given you pleasure, dear sir," her own head lowered in a polite representation of a bow. The mouse seemed so enraptured by everything, and Myrrine could not help but feel a little happy. It had been so long since she spoke with a mouse at all - let alone had anyone appreciate her songs

[Reepicheep]

Straightening up to his full height (it wasn't much), Reepicheep nodded solemnly in response.  "I know too well that there are too few things of pleasure in a time such as this."  He knew that the one with whom he spoke was not one of those wretched Telmarines.  For one thing, a Telmarine would not be away from Miraz's camp - simpering, dependent buffoons that they were, they worshiped their usurping king as if he were some sort of god and did nothing unless he ordered it - and certainly, a Telmarine woman would not be.  Reepicheep had, of course, had blessedly little experiences with the land-stealing, Narnian-killing ruffians themselves, but he knew enough from his various ventures close to the castle (for the specific purposes of gathering intel; Mice were quite skilled at that; faster and much less chattery about it than Squirrels) to be able to say that they treated their women quite badly, and would not have let them go off alone.

More than that, he knew that the one whom he visited was not a Telmarine because, would she have been one, she would have been in the process of hacking the tree down in a savage fashion instead of leaning against it peacefully.  But, since she did look like a Human (only a great deal more beautiful and natural, of course), the deciding factor for Reepicheep had been that the song she sang was reminiscent of one he had heard when he was young.  It was Narnian, through and through.  Thank Aslan for that; so few things were that way now.  Much of the culture that had existed during the reign of the Kings and Queens of Old had been lost, preserved only through the honored oral tradition that a few still carried. For the most part, Dryads had been its primary carriers, since they lived longer in their Trees than nearly any other Narnian creature.

That is when it all came together for Reepicheep.  The frail but noble, almost ethereal, appearance, and the song from of old that sounded so like one that a Dryad had sung to him...  The creature with whom he spoke was, indeed, a Dryad!  It had been so long since he had seen one, that it had been difficult for him to recognize one.  Oh, ho ho ho!  Had they all been awakened, come to aid their fellow Narnians in the fight against the Telmarines?  Could Aslan be returned to them once more?  Reepicheep did not dare to believe it.  "I say! he began excitedly, his whiskers twitching wildly, as they always did when something of particular interest had caught his attention.  "This stroll has proved quite fortuitous!  A Dryad, and the first I have seen in far too many years!"  He moved forth, awestruck, to approach the Dryad.  His attempt to sweep up her hand in his tiny paw failed, but his gallantry was not lost as he lifted it (with some effort) and placed onto it a delicate kiss.  "Aslan has surely blessed me with your presence this day."

[Myrrine Diodorus]

The solemness in the mouse's words were so very true; Myrrine understood them as much as anyone. Pure joy was almost impossible to find. It seemed to have slipped away with all of Narnia; fleeing into the trees, terrified to reveal itself in more than tiny snippets here and there, afraid that it would be taken away altogether should anyone see it in fullness. The absence of laughter and singing had snatched away the meaning and purpose from life. Narnia needed another divine saving, and this dryad felt that it was coming at last. Hope was finally peaking it's head out just enough to be seen by those who chose to look for it. Myrrine had been looking for years.

She could only nod in saddened silence with the mouse's expression of this, but his voice was suddenly turning to excitement. Myrrine watched with interest as his whole body suddenly perked up, and his whiskers began twitching in a very peculiar fashion. Her head cocked slightly to the side as the mouse began his exclamations, wondering of what he spoke. When the word "dryad" was spoken, she relaxed her posture again, smiling gently at this fellow Narnian. She was quite flattered by his valor, but a bubbly little laugh managed to escape her lips despite herself. This came from a myriad of things, not just the mouse. His discovery that she was a dryad was so very pleasing, that Myrrine felt quite happy for a moment. She had been in hiding much too long, it gave her joy to be out in the open again.

With that smile still warming her features, the dryad helped lift her hand to the mouse's lips. Her eyes sparkled just a bit more at the diligent efforts this little creature was undergoing. She had quite forgotten the pride and dramatic expressions of these valiant mice. How wonderful to be with a true Narnian like herself again! "You are much too kind," she said, with another little bow of her head. "But I too wish to see the dryads as you do," the sparkle in her eyes was hidden for a moment by a curtain of sadness. It was so very hard to be alone sometimes.

[Reepicheep]

Even though Reepicheep should have thanked the Dryad for assisting him in his gallant efforts, his pride did not allow it, and he drew back smartly.  It was not honorable to linger too closely to a lady, especially when one has been on the march for the majority of a hot day and one's fur becomes a not-quite-subtle reminder of this fact.  His small, noble mouth turned upwards in a semblance of a Mouse smile, Reepicheep responded to her words politely but honestly: "Not at all, my lady."  Reepicheep prided himself on the fact that he did not engage in flippant flattery.  No, a knight was always truthful and thus trustworthy - though of course they would not insult a lady.  He noted that for a long moment the beautiful Dryad seemed to be lost in thought, and he did not interrupt her.  She might have been thinking of the Days of Old, which had long since passed and Reepicheep sorely regretted being born too late to see.  Sometimes he found himself wishing that he could live so long as a Dryad did, but he knew that such a life would not suit him.  In no way was Reepicheep the sort who waited around to be saved.  Someone had to be a hero, and Reepicheep was willing and able to do the job.  He was glad to be able to.  It was his duty.

Pondering over the other things the words she had spoken, Reepicheep understood the meaning of the Dryad's words.  So she was truly the only one, then.  It made him feel saddened indeed, but all the more blessed to have found her.  He wondered fleetingly if she had seen Caspian yet, or if he would take interest in her presence, but thought it rude to bring up war when she looked so serene.  Though Reepicheep found peace to be dull and useless at a time like this (not to mention nearly impossible to attain), he did not want to snatch it away from someone else.  The Dryad, whose beauty also carried a hint of melancholy that he could not understand, seemed more than deserving of the moment of happiness she had found.  It was not Reepicheep's place to decide otherwise, nor to act on it.

"Perhaps," Reepicheep murmured, "you will see them again soon.  Perhaps we all will."  There was a hopefulness evident in his voice that did not surprise him.  His whole life, he had longed for the reign of the Telmarines over Narnia to end, and even before his lifetime - long before - others had also desired the same.  And finally, it appeared to be happening.  The magic Narnia had once possessed was returning.  His Majesty Caspian X was offering his aid in exchange for their swords, and they were all willing to give them.  Now there was a Dryad - only one, but one more than there had been for a thousand years.  For the Narnians, this would be enough.  A long time had passed when they'd had nothing to cling to but hope.  Now their hope was beginning to prove worth it.  They would all have to work together if they wanted to defeat the Telmarines, as promised, and especially with recent events, every new soldier was a precious gift.  His hand unconsciously brushed the hilt of his rapier as he thought it.  "Forgive me, but I must ask... how long have you been away?  Much has happened in your absence, my lady."

[Myrrine Diodorus]

Myrrine smiled faintly, but warmly, at the mouse's expression of hope. She had been hoping for so long, and nothing ever seemed to appear. Still, she would not loose that hope for it was all that was left to cling to, and now there truly was a chance to hope, again. Aslan would come; Narnia would be saved. It was all very clear to Myrrine, she did not know how or when, but that did not matter so much to her right now. Aslan would come. For now they could only wait. The mouse seemed to share her thoughts, but his voiced opinions brought such events to the very near future. Myrrine agreed with his thoughts, it seemed like the time was beginning to come. The possibility of seeing other dryads did seem attainable. "Perhaps we shall," was her only response, her eyes beginning to radiate more of the smile and lessen their sadness.

When the mouse asked her how long she had been away, Myrrine paused a moment. How could she respond to that? After a beat she rose her head up, and said: "I never left, dear sir." She watched his face, wondering what his whiskers and expression would begin to do now. "You see, I could not retreat into my tree like the others. Instead I hid away in this woods, always here, but never showing myself." The dryad paused the flow of liquid, beautiful speech to take a small breath. She was not accustomed to talking so much. "Only recently I made myself known to your camp. It was time. It is time. I think you are right." She smiled at the mouse once more. Perhaps everything would happen soon. Perhaps the waiting was coming to an end.

{ooc: so sorry for the wait and shortness!}

[Reepicheep]

Reepicheep wondered at a Dryad's concept of time.  After all, they lived for so long - a day in the life of a Mouse such as Reepicheep probably seemed just a second in their eyes.  Just how long they had been gone, he couldn't say, for he had not yet been alive (not even his greatest grandfather had been; Mice were very good about tracing their lengthy and noble bloodlines).  But, so, Myrrine had never been gone at all.  Had it been very boring to be sequestered and isolated in the recesses for the woods so long?  Reepicheep would have been bothered by such a spell of being idle and uninformed, but he supposed someone with many times his lifespan probably had a great deal more patience than he did, and it was probably rude to ask anyway.  The noble Dryads did not feel emotions as petty as boredom, he had decided.  (Reepicheep had always been fascinated by Dryads, you see, and regarded them as one of Narnia's most special creatures, after Aslan.)  His beady black eyes shone with a wonder and an admiration that were rare coming from one who thought so highly of himself.  There were so many questions he wanted to ask Myrrine, but they were so numerous that he could hardly think well enough to form them into a statement that could be comprehended.  Instead, he simply smiled wordlessly - something that he also did not do often, though his childish fascination brought out a whole new side in him.

Her eyes seemed to smile as she watched him, and her very words were as musical and melodious as that of the Dryad, Reepicheep remembered in the faint happy haze of memories, who spoke his dreams.  Certainly, he held an admiration for all creatures of Narnia (well, except for the detestable Giants, of course... and the Squirrels, because being that chipper so constantly was just unnatural).  But indeed there was something about the Dryad, so ethereal and difficult to find, noble and grave, that earned extra respect.  There was a wisdom about them, an air no one else in Narnia but Aslan had, as if they were always somewhere between this world and another one.  He had been surprised by the fact that she had really been in "this world" the whole time - whatever that length of time was - and showed it with a nose and whiskers that twitched with interest, and a tail that went poker straight.  However, his brow raised slightly, he managed to restrain the shock in his words.  "Well, it is a grand thing to have you in our presence," he decided.  "How much do you know of... the Telmarines?"  The last word was verily spat, with righteous degredation of the people who Reepicheep hated instinctively as a Narnian.

(ooc: Also short :/)

[Myrrine Diodorus]

There was something so perfect about being with a Narnian again. Conversation seemed so normal and easy among them; it reminded Myrrine of the old days of Narnia when everything had been this easy and sweet. Granted, she had also been younger then, but the dryad knew when peace existed and when it didn't. It was not a matter of sheltered, innocent childhood or not in her case, Myrrine had always had a keen sense of wisdom. The trait was part of who she was, just as much of her as was her hair, or her eyes, or her voice. Perhaps even more so.

The mouse asked the dryad's knowledge of Telmarines, and Myrrine's eyes grew sad again. A soft sigh, sounding almost worn-out, escaped her lips. Her head shook back and forth in a gentle turning once or twice, and then she responded. "Cruel creatures, they are," silence filled the air for a moment as the dryad paused. In a moment she took up her voice again. It was lower this time, nearing a whisper. Despite the melodic beauty of the sounds, the words somehow sounded darker than the others that had left Myrrine's mouth. "I was here when they came." Her eyes lowered to the mouse's, and she looked at him for a moment, portraying the grief she had felt then.


{ooc: once again, terribly sorry for the wait! you are amazing for being so patient!}

[Reepicheep]

"They are indeed," Reepicheep agreed heartily with Myrrine's words that the Telmarines were cruel.  But what, exactly, made Myrrine think so?  Reepicheep would happily list his own reasons.  A moment of silence followed, and his curiosity grew steadily as he waited to see if Myrrine had more to say.  At first, he wasn't completely certain what she had seen upon the Telmarine's arrival.  It was something quite awful, of course.  As far as the Mouse knew, Telmarines had never done anything that wasn't - save Caspian.  (But one could hardly call Caspian a Telmarine anymore.)  What had those beautiful, wise eyes seen that they wished to forget?  Could she have traveled far enough to watch helplessly the siege of Cair Paravel of which Reepicheep had been told?  Had she been one of the Old Narnians whose home had been ransacked and burned by the Telmarines, and who had retreated into the forest?  No, for her home had likely been in the forest - in a tree.  Which, though the Telmarines had stayed out of the heart of the woods for years (out of pure fear, Reepicheep thought with smug glee), they were not above using its materials for their benefit... such as those needed for building a bridge.  Like wood.  Reepicheep's eyes widened in horror, then grew saddened.  He bowed his head in shock and shame as he spoke in a barely-audible murmur: "I must crave your indulgence for my thoughtlessness.  I assure you I meant to cause no grief, but I appear to have done so all the same."

He could stare into her eyes no longer.  They were so beautiful and so tortured.  Like all of Narnia itself.  Reepicheep vowed, for the umpteenth time, to himself in that moment that he would help to change this.  But he knew that, as much as he would like to try, he could not be able to do this on his own.  If he had his men with him, perhaps...  No; Caspian, at least, would want to be along to properly avenge himself.  Reepicheep would have to go back to the How, and they would all reassemble and prepare for battle, just as he had been hoping for so dearly.  And he would take this Dryad with him.  For her, there might be some comfort in the knowledge of the presence of other Narnians.  Even if none were quite like herself, there had to be some reassurance in knowing that others had held on for so long - not as long as she had, to be certain, but it had been painful for them nonetheless.  (Some of the Centaurs were particularly old, though Reepicheep knew not exactly how much so.)  The pain would not be prolonged.  The pain of battle, if there was any, would be short-lived and much worth the end of any other pain which had been suffered otherwise.  Even as he thought it, Reepicheep's nimble fingers played over the hilt of his rapier; he imagined with great joy sinking it into the flesh of a Telmarine's leg.  It would not be an imagination for long, he knew.  When he returned to the How, Caspian would be done with his meeting and would be free to listen to Reepicheep's plans.  Yes, it was perfect.  With a renewed sense of purpose, the Mouse turned his face up to Myrrine's in the hope that some of the pain in her eyes had diminished.  His whiskers trembled in anticipation.  "There are many Narnians gathered at Aslan's How who would be pleased and encouraged much by your presence," he piped.  He wasn't certain whether she had been there yet, but she must go now in either case.  "If you will have me, it would be my great honor to escort you there, my lady."

[ooc: it's fine, really!  Your posts are always worth the wait ]

[Myrrine Diodorus]

The pain in Myrrine’s eyes softened when the Mouse bowed his head most profoundly, and begged her to forgive him of thoughtlessness with his eloquent words. The dear creature, he was certainly everything Myrrine could wish to see of him. Strong in word and stature (at least for a Mouse), sympathetic and feeling, and chivalrous and passionate in every way. It was remarkable to be in the presence of someone with that pure sense of Narnian pride once more. It had been lost for so long.

“Hush, my good sir,” the dryad said with a smile, still baring hints of sadness that always seemed to be cloaked about her, but yet displaying a bit of their old dazzling enjoyment of life. Narnia was the only thing that could bring those feelings back – the joy and laughter that had once been a part of every moment. Only Aslan could return Narnia to what it was – who it was. Oh, that He would come! But Aslan did not work on what others wanted or expected of Him. No, He was much greater than that. He always came just when the time was right. Myrrine had no qualms about that.

When the Mouse offered to take her back to meet the Narnians again, Myrrine’s face lit with a gentle glow – the afflicted expression was cast off for a moment as she thought of all those whom she would meet.

“It would be my delight,” she stated, the enchanting smile growing larger on her face. “If I can be an encouragement to anyone, I am sure I could not decline. And I am sure that they would be the same for me. As you have already been,” the Dryad gently touched the Mouse’s shoulder affectionately, withdrawing nearly as quickly and gracefully as the act had been completed. “Might I ask, sir, for your name?”

[Reepicheep]

Reepicheep wondered feverishly whether this was what it felt like to truly love something.  He had never before loved something that was tangible.  Aslan, to whom he had pledged his life, had never made himself known to Reepicheep’s eyes, though he imagined that the Great Lion was too beautiful to behold and fully comprehend for a mere Mouse like himself.  Narnia… it was too sprawling and grand for him to know all of it, and though he loved it all the same, loved every acre of it, it was too hard for him to know exactly what it was that he loved when there was so much of it that he adored.  And Caspian…  Reepicheep loved him most dearly.  But for the first time, he felt that his feelings were reciprocated, this unadulterated joy and sadness that were intertwined in the song that Myrrine’s words made.

When she told him to hush, for once in his life the Mouse obeyed, more than content to watch her wordlessly.  Did he love her in the way that mates loved?  No, but he adored her all the same, because of her simple magnificence that was unparalleled in any other Narnian creature he had met or seen.  She belonged to another world, didn’t she?  It was as if she was here on a reverse vacation of sorts from Aslan’s country, from whence she had come to grace the lower beings with her presence.  Aslan had blessed him indeed by doing this, for if she brought nearly as much joy to the other Narnians as she did to Reepicheep, than the whole camp would be happy, for the first time in far too long.  They would not feel anything similar unless the Lion returned. But this seemed almost as good, for the last time the Trees had woken was when he was here.  Perhaps – did he dare to hope? – the presence of one would lead to another?

A thrill went through him when she agreed to go with him back to the Narnian camp.  They would be received with the best of tidings!  Caspian would be overjoyed to meet a Narnian creature which he yet had not, and everyone would take heart in the fact that there was one more on their side, for everyone counted.  They were not like the Telmarines, in which every warrior was disposable, only a number among many others.  She touched him, and his heart soared, for it was as if his shoulder had been kissed by the lips of a heavenly being. “It is Reepicheep, Lady,” he breathed, though he scarcely could after hearing her beautiful words. “Let us go now, for I am certain everyone can hardly bear waiting to meet you.”