day 3: processing

Caldron Pool
Lantern Waste
Northwestern Narnia

Megren sits on a boulder at the edge of the pool to wait for Lanisen, wrapping her cloak tight around her.

Darrin perches on the corner of the same boulder, his gaze drawn to the falls.

Lanisen and Cor come walking together down the path from the campsite. Lanisen has his shoulders hunched up a bit against the chill and his hands in his pocket, and he is keeping a covert eye on Cor.

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day 3: over and done

Gathering Circle
Lantern Waste

Peridot’s eyes follow his toward the tent and then go back to the Prince. She bows again. “Thank you, your highness. I want to do my part for their Majesties as well. They have been good to us beasts.”

Cor says, “I’m sure we — I’m sure we all want that.” He takes a breath. “Lord Peridan might be better to talk to.”

Peridan ducks out of the tent, rubbing his forehead for a moment before straightening his shoulders and walking toward the fire where the others are gathered.

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day 2: moving forward

Gathering Circle
Lantern Waste

Cor comes out of his tent looking poorly rested, and a little disheveled. He is warmly dressed, but still looks a little cold.

Petria rises from her place by the fire stretching and moves the greet Prince.

Bracken glances toward the prince. “There’s coffee if you want it Your Highness.”

Lanisen, sitting with his arms on his knees by the fire, rouses and straightens as Cor emerges. He gets to his feet, a little wobbly with lack of sleep, and bows.

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day 1: missing party

Gathering Circle
Lantern Waste

Aliyah has moved away from the fire by this point, her coat dry. She is, however, sprawled out on her side. Being full will do that to a wolf. Her eyes remain open and alert, and her head raises as the deer appears. “Wilfry?” she offers him a smile.

Wilfry’s head snaps in the direction of Aliyah’s voice. When he spots her, his posture relaxes and he hops over a fallen log and moves toward her. “Have they got back yet?” he asks eagerly.

Aliyah shakes her head. “No, they haven’t.” She moves into a sitting position.

Wilfry frowns. “What’s taking them so long? It’s been /hours/.”

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day 1: following the white stag

Fruited Copse
Lantern Waste
Northwestern Narnia

The Narnian wilds are more open here, full of life and bounty. Chains of cranberries and acorns have been hung up, stringing from branch to branch, a seeming dare to the intrepid Squirrel. Lanterns have been set up in convenient places, casing made from turnips and candle stubs and some industrious creature’s hard work at carving openings for the light to pour from.

Under the pear tree sits a huge feasting table, laden with everything good and in season. There are squash of all varieties, potatoes roasted, mashed, and boiled, a pile of nuts more enormous than seems quite safe or possible, kale and fresney in every form, soups and stews, venison and rabbit and fish, and of course, several apple, quince, and nutty pies.

A dwarf with a military bearing (Bracken) stands by the feasting table, helping himself to liberal servings of everything.

A faun with a green scarf (Wilder) sits quietly in a corner playing his pan pipes.

Lanisen sits with his back against a tree, his arms looped loosely around his updrawn knees, people-watching with great interest.

Bracken leaves the table and searches for a spot to sit, settling in near Lanisen.

Wilder is so busy playing his tune he barely notices anything else.

Lanisen glances at the Dwarf, then glances again, one eye slightly squinted as if he’s trying to place the face.

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hiding places

Castle Anvard

It is an oppressively hot. windless day out: the sort of day that feels as if you might roast out-of-doors and, if you have been out-of-doors any length of time at all, surely bake once inside. Though largely empty, the kennels smell heavily of dog, and the humid indoor heat even makes it feel as if the dog-smell might cling right to you. Toward the back of the pens, the sound of a dog’s tail can be heard thwapping heartily against the floor despite the languid heat, alongside a quiet, slightly whiny voice.
Cor mumbles “You might at … think she’d … fussing … manners … even /half/ a … … you could … … what … … So … if … …”, to Cor.
Cor mumbles “… … been grateful, I’m … … … … … if they … sense.”, to Cor.

Lanisen steps inside, pausing a moment to make sure the windows are open as far as they will go. He wipes his forehead and goes to the table, splashing a bit of water from the pitcher onto his face and neck, then hesitates and peers toward the back of the room.

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Outer Ward
Castle Anvard

The outer ward of Castle Anvard is a busy, bustling place, with market stalls and the smithy, stables, and kennels lining the outer walls. There are stairs leading to the gate towers on the northern and southern corners of the outer curtain. To the east are the outer gatehouse and the road leading into the realm of Archenland, and to the west another gate leads to the the inner ward and the main keep of Anvard.

The snow has been mostly cleared out of the center of the ward and gathered into several waist-deep piles up against the walls. A large bonfire of fragrant wood, kept burning bright and hot at all hours of the day and night, occupies the open space. Festive greenery hangs all around, amid the icicles.

Myles leads his horse, saddled and geared for the hunt, out of the stable. His squire comes behind him, leading his own horse. Both are dressed warmly, and Myles calls out some high-spirited jest over his shoulder as they approach the bonfire.

Arael walks in beside Lord Sten, very well bundled up. Her cheeks are rosy and her expression is animated as she replies to him.

Aravis leads a dark grey hunting horse from the stables, dressed lightly enough to ride swiftly but still stay warm. A red scarf is draped over her shoulders and over the lower half of her face.

Lune stands near the bonfire with a group of his attendants, dressed warmly for the hunt. He seems in high spirits, chatting with everybody, and his loud, booming laugh rings out frequently.

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snap judgment

Outer Ward
Castle Anvard

Abrielle smiles at Avery. “I doubt that.”

A daughter of eve with fair hair continues walking through the ward, dodging a bit of mud that threatens to wreck her sensible shoes. She watches the man go into the kennels, then notices the other in the red tunic by the stables before she nearly trods into a puddle. She skirts around that, gaze going up to the Lady and her companion sitting nearby.

Avery rolls her eyes. “It’s true.” She holds a finger to her lips. “But shh, let it not be heard that the this Lady of Chesterton has /flaws/…” Her voice holds a bit of a mocking tone.

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aiding and abetting

Outer Ward
Castle Anvard

Haft leans against the wall that Darius has just vacated, trying to keep an eye on the man amidst the bustle, and then makes a cursory scan of others in the crowd. Catching sight of Cor during his inspection, he starts slightly, glancing again in the direction in which Darius has disappeared. He rests his hand out of habit on his sword hilt–more to reassure himself it’s there than anything else–and keeps an eye on the boy, though he makes no move to approach.

Cor does not seem to take note of any gazes upon him, far too concentrated on enjoying a fluffy buttery kind of bread he has procured from no-one-can-quite-be-sure-where and observing the crowd around him. On a second look, his clothing seems not as nice as it probably ought to be, and his hair has been mussed so that it falls into his eyes. He is perhaps doing a rather bad job of attempting to go incognito.

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new regular

Castle Anvard

Cor seems to have got very good at knowing when no one is about the dogs. Danall seems to have gone to bed and the fire is low in the hearth, and Cor sits near it, tossing a rag back and forth for one of the dogs to jump at.

Lanisen lets himself quietly in, limping rather badly. He shuts the door behind him, fastening the latch, and sags wearily against the doorframe for a second before he registers that he is not alone. “Prince Co–” he starts, then decides to play it safe and go with, “Your highness?” instead.

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