plague party


Knights’ Quarters
Castle Anvard


Megren sits at the short table under the window in her quarters. Despite a comfortable spring day, she has her wrap pulled around her. Her knees are pulled up to her chest with her feet on the seat of the chair, and she leans forward against them with her arms tucked between her body and her thighs, only reaching out to turn the pages of the sheafs of parchment that sit on the table.

Lanisen knocks three times on the door.

Megren drops her legs suddenly enough to make a small ‘thud’ and gets up to open it, sticking her face between door and frame. Tiny winds around her legs and whines, then slips out and bolts down the hall.

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cheese to come


Anvard Pastures
Castle Anvard


Lanisen is wandering the empty pasture with Nia, slowly making his way down toward the lake.

Darrin leads Gambol back to the horse pasture from the stables and lets him off his lead.

Lanisen shades his eyes against the late afternoon sun, squinting toward Darrin and Gambol.

Darrin watches as Gambol shakes his mane and trots off immediately, without so much as a backwards glance. “Typical,” he snorts to himself, with a shake of his head and a smile.

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dame megren


Kitchens
Castle Anvard


Lanisen is just leaving the kitchen with a glass jar held carefully in one hand. The jar holds a little water at the bottom and a little bouquet of about every kind of flower one can find in early spring and a few you can’t: crocus, snowdrop, daffodil, cherry blossom, and several long sprigs of flowering herbs from the solarium.

Dalia makes her way into the kitchen, with her shawl around her, she looks quite a little bit better than the night before.

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megren’s vigil


Inner Ward
Castle Anvard


Megren stands in the middle of the ward, dressed in her full hauberk, gambeson, and half-plate, the crest of Archenland emblazoned on her tabard.

Cantil stands to the side in Coghill blue, talking quietly with Tern as they wait. He glances toward the Chancellor’s tower and straightens slightly as Lord Cole emerges.

Sir Darrin emerges from the noble’s tower dressed equally formally, the blue tabard over his chainmail bearing his personal standard of eagle and flowers, and his decorative sword on his hip.

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foreign affairs


Megren sits with her legs crossed and tucked up under her on a chair at the table. She is sinking low toward the table and her book.

Darrin, seated across from Megren, has a glass of wine beside him and a book that looks suspiciously like a novel open on the table. A stack of books of a more serious nature, seeming to be mainly treatises on diplomacy and international incidents, is set aside.

Lanisen ducks between shelves and pillars, glancing down each row as he passes. He halts on finding them, but hesitates at the end of the row to gauge from a safe distance if he is interrupting. He has a letter folded in one hand.

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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: hammers and knives


Gathering Circle
Lantern Waste


Lanisen returns to the camp after maybe an hour, shivering and not looking anybody in the face. He returns to the fire and picks up the centaur’s massive wool cloak, glancing around briefly for its owner before he resumes his seat and wraps himself in it, hunching over his knees.

Megren is off at the side of camp, running drills with a Faun who looks like he’s not providing a lot more help than a straw target would, albeit the help has a lot more flair and drama. When she sees Lanisen reentering camp, she calls halt and thanks the Faun, wiping her brow and heading toward the fire.

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squirrels and eagles


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.


Meka is having a very animated conversation with Applebud in the midst of those gathered.

Applebud can be seen to be chittering very excitedly to Meka.

Darrin comes into view among the crowd.

Lanisen follows along with Darrin, his hands in his pockets. He seems interested in everything.

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lost caches and wishes


Outside the Twin Oaks Inn
Lantern Waste
Northwestern Narnia


Megren stands outside the inn, dressed in sparring clothes. A group of Narnians is gathered around her, all chattering away, seemingly about the kings and queens, if the words that rise above the talk are anything to go by.

A faun with brown curly hair (Tumnus) comes walking in from the south, surrounded by a small group of Beasts.

A magpie with black-and-white plumage (Tooey) half hops, half flies in after the faun chirping something about treasure.

A centaur with dark serious eyes (Wintermoor) stands with the circle listening to the daughter of eve speak to those gathered. A faint covering of travel-dust covers him still.

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