mythological beauty ;

# 𝙲𝙰𝙸𝚁𝚂𝙿𝙸𝙰𝙽  is  an  independent  +  private  roleplay  blog   𝑓𝑡.  CASPIAN  X  from  c.s.  lewis’s  the  chronicles  of  narnia  series .   film - based  with  influences  from  the  books  and  headcanons .   primarily  plot  driven .   heavily  affiliated  with  @petervel​ .   captained  by  𝑧𝑒𝑙𝑑𝑎 ,   18+ .

↪  gallery :   carrd   +   promo   +   tracker   +   divergences

𝑎𝑛  𝑒𝑥𝑝𝑙𝑜𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛  𝑜𝑓 :    inheriting  grief  ,    the  house  that  haunts  ,   devouring  without  guilt  ,   a  love  that  stains  ,    reaping  what  you  sow  ,   &   the  wild  seas .

                                 they    are    just    coming    to    their    nearest  .

#𝐂𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐀𝐍   +   #𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐋 :     heavily  affiliated  interpretations  of  caspian  x  and  peter  richard  pevensie  from  c.s.  lewis’    ‘ the  chronicles  of  narnia ’     novels .

where  must  you  go ,     peter  pevensie ?     wherever he goes ;     as far as you can follow .     peter is no stranger to responsibility ,     to the art of setting his jaw into stone like cool water o’er molten metal   &   carrying on even ‘neath the  glorious  weight  of duty in the crown you bear  ;     all the same ,     ocean eyes glance at the stone archway ‘neath which the great lion disappeared ,     and the high king dares to ask  why .     [  what  haven’t  you  given  already ?     when  will  it  be  enough ?  ]

❛  you’ll  see  lucy ,  ❜     peter murmurs ,     thumb tracing silent lines into the swell of caspian’s cheek  as  if  he  believes  he  can  leave  a  mark  that  will  linger  long  after  these  men   &   their  myths  have  crumbled  to  naught  but  dust  and  bone ,     something  to  remind  the  other  that  their  fateful  dance  ‘cross  the  upper  skies  was  more  than  mere  waking  dream ,     ❛  and  edmund .  ❜     

[  even  this ,     you  know ,     is  a  lie  ;     even  this ,     you  know ,     is  a  platitude  twisted  into  tight  braids  that  you  wind  ‘round  his  neck  as  if  it  is  jewellery  and  not  a  length  of  rope .     you  can  only  hope  that  when  he  finally  opens  his  eyes  and  finds  the  weapons  sewn  to  the  edges  of  your  words ,     he  will  realise  that  the  noose  is  strangling  the  both  of  you .     perhaps  both  the  just  and  the  valiant  will  see  him ,     you  think .     perhaps  they  will  visit  his  bones  next  century .  ]

❛  but  su  and  i  are  done  here .     we’re  going  home .  ❜     home .     [  the  word  is  a  lie ,     if  you’ve  ever  told  one .  ]     he cannot bring himself to think about what this will do to them  ;     what  it  will  do  to  susan ,     her tether to their past ,     to  the  three  of  them ,     already so tenuous in its fraying edges .     instead ,     peter’s attention strays to what he cannot avoid     [  to  what  you  still  hope  to  end  gently  ;     another  morning  farewell  kiss  ‘pon  somnolent  lips ,  ]  :     tender fingers fall away from caspian’s face but make no movement to pry themselves away from the  stubborn  grip  at his wrist ,     neither pulling nor pushing in their quiet endurance .     i  would  stay  if  i  could ,     my  love .     i  would  walk  the  path  you  will  pave  for  your  people ,     to  the  ends  of  the  earth     ⸺     but  this  is  the  last  of  all  i  can  give .

❛  narnia  doesn’t  need  me ,  ❜     comes the platitude ,     soft   &   sincere ,     ❛  you  don’t  need  me ,     caspian .     you  have  your  victory     ⸺     now  i’m  asking  you  to  put  this  place  right .  ❜     give  them  what  you  gave  me  :     respite  beneath  the  shade ,     a  moment  of  silence  below  the  stars .     give  yourself  over  to  narnia ,     and  she  will  grant  you  all  that  you  need  in  return .     ❛  fight  one  last  battle .     give  them  peace .     will  you  do  that ?     for  me ?  ❜     tell  me  that  i  needn’t  worry  ;     that  you  will  be  alright .     [  anything ,     you  think ,     to  nurse  your  bleeding  heart .  ]

it's  hard  to  feel  triumphant  ,     he  finds  ,     when  loss  is  a  long  shadow  stretching  miles  and  miles  behind  him     ⸻     if time was a beast ,     it would have been well - fed from the scraps of hope that decompose at his sorry feet in a cycle as  inescapable  as the four seasons  :     his destiny has long been sown like seeds in narnia's trusting soil ,     and perhaps the time has come to reap it .     [   stubbornly ,     you  vow  to  keep  yourself  grounded  past  the  harvest     ⸻     your  roots  tangled  up  in  his  .     to  be  forced  apart  is  to painstakingly  tear  yourself  off  of  him  ,     hair  by  woeful  hair  .   ]

since the beginning ,     it had been peter who held all the answers     ⸻     yet today brings back an unruly  inversion  feeling more like a knife turned inwards than anything else .     will  you  do  that  ?     the high king pleads ,     as if they had been the one to sound the ivory horn that one fateful night ,     for  me  ?     caspian ,     however ,     hears an  echo  of  a  question  from several drowning suns ago     ⸻     he remembers it by the challenger pinned 'neath his thighs ,     an unyielding gaze searing into his honey-brown eyes as if peter had been waiting to burn away the awning that had traitorously obscured his breadth of view .     it  burns  him  ,     still  ;     it  peels  his  skin  .

the answer ,     as it hangs off the tip of his tongue ,     has never truly changed .     for  you  ?     yes  ,     anything  for  you  .     ❛   i  will  take  care  of  your  family  .     i  will  do  everything  you  ask  of  me     ⸻     that  narnia  asks  of  me  .     whatever  it  takes  .     i  just  ...   ❜     it's at this point ,     caspian realizes belatedly ,     that hope is a rivulet cascading down his cheek where a tear ought to be     ⸻     he is racing against time to seize it .     [   perhaps  he  is  your  shallow  grave  ,     for  there  won't  be  any  contest  .     this  time  ,     for  the  final  time  ,     peter  yields  and  lays  down  their  arms  .     this  is  victory ,     king  caspian  the  tenth  ,     and  there  is  your  casualty  .   ]    

seeking the last dregs of his pickings tucked into the corner of peter's mouth ,     caspian cannot help his minute indulgence     ⸻     he plants a kiss in their conjunction ,     a whisper ghosting their lips .     ❛   i  just  wish  we  had  more  time  ,   ❜     comes his shameful secret ,     allowing himself one gentle protest before inching away .

caspian  maravilla  is  on  instagram  !

bob  the  builder  hot

i  am  not  saying  bob  the  builder  is  hot  ,     i’m  just  saying  you  have  the  hotness  of  a  handyman  .     you're  humble  ,     down  to  earth  ,     and  exist  with  an  easy  confidence  that  takes people’s  breath  away  .     you  always  seem  to  know  exactly  what  you  are  doing  .     you  may  still  be  stuck  in  your  hometown  ,     but  you  have  quite  the  reputation  .     you  do  get  a  lot  of  business  ,     after  all  .     people  around  here  sure  tend  to  break  things  an  awful  lot  ,     and  they  always  call  you  ,     listening  through  the  phone  receiver  with  a  light  blush  and  bated  breath  ,     for  your  inevitable  " i'll  help  you  . "

they’re  safe .     peter  tucks  this  knowledge  away     like an old photograph into the empty frame of a golden locket   &  cradles it flush against his beating heart as he allows caspian to pull him back to his feet ;     two  spectres  reaching ‘cross space   &   time to paint a hollow recreation of the last ,     dusty sunset they’d watched ‘neath the cover of caspian’s  beat - up  corolla like voyeurs in front of a silver screen  as  their  world  had  caved  in .     [  but  you  are  out  of  colours :     you  will  dabble  your  fingertips  ‘cross  the  trail  of  carnage  scattered  behind  you  like  breadcrumbs   &   paint  the  sky  red  instead .     in  the  end ,     all  of  this  love  amounted  to  putting  down  the  brush  for  the  last  time .  ]

if he were anyone else ,     peter would reject caspian’s assurances as platitudes   &   follow after his siblings all the same     ⸺     but as blue eyes enfold themselves within the soft clutches of brown ,     peter realises that he wouldn’t lie .     not  about  this .

they exit the ballroom without another word between them ,     and as peter watches the back of caspian’s head from where he paces two footfalls behind ,     he decides that if the  stubborn  grasp  ‘round his wrist makes the very air of  his  home  the palace feel like poison all over again ,     he will pretend not to notice .     [  let  it  be  carbon  monoxide ,     you  think ;     let  it  send  you  to  sleep  in  his  arms   &   go  gently  into  the  night .     you  can’t  face  him  again .     let  it  be  quick ;     let  it  be  peaceful .  ]

they’re  nearing  his  room     ⸺     vaguely ,     he wonders if caspian knows exactly where he rests his head each night ,     waiting to be awoken from his  hundred - year  slumber  by the sweet kiss of his beloved ;     wonders how many times caspian has traced out a path into the carpet that caresses the edge of peter’s doorway ,     leaving a single set of footprints where it had once  only  been  natural  to find two     ⸺     when caspian reaches for him again ,     the nearby cacophony of voices melting away into the distance as peter is directed into a supply closet .     [  four  years  ago ,     you  would  have  asked  him  if  he  was  so  eager  to  get  you  alone .     four  years  ago ,     you  would  never  have  thought  to  call  this  a  cage .     you  are  relieved ,     then ,     when  you  are  not  the  first  to  speak .  ]

i  will  get  you  to  your  family  soon ,     assures the guard ,     and half a dozen heartbeats pound in peter’s ears before he wrenches his wretched lips apart in the dark .     ❛  your highness ,  ❜     he repeats quietly ,     chest tightening painfully .     you  know  this  isn’t  fair ,     caspian  maravilla .     ❛  is  that  all ?     what  are  you  doing  here ,     caspian ?  ❜

i  don’t  know  ,     caspian almost rattles out his first fatal response ,     even when numerous reasons have outlined themselves in narrow trenches ‘cross the sand blanketing their small deserted island  ;    long canyons from beach to shore tally the split second where everything goes wrong for a bird’s prey had simply been  in  the  wrong  place  at  the  wrong  time .     he realizes that ,    now  :     the oath he’d sworn will soon shatter ‘neath the weight of his childishness ,     his unending piety for what had  &  could have been ,     much swifter than a  peregrine  can kill .     [   still  ,     your  fist  curls  ‘round  the  notion  .     neither  is  it  something  you’re  quite  ready  to  let  go  of  ,     it  seems  .     how  much  bloodshed  will  it  take  to  loosen  this  vice - like  grip  ?   ]

will  he  ever  be  ready  to  answer  that  question  ?     he  is  no  guardian  angel  .    

perhaps a part of him has disappeared in the ferry on the way here ,     vanished from dust - coated windows where certain initials are writ atop a cacophony of unflattering words     ⸻     he feels like nothing more than a pile of ash at the behest of whatever wind shall take him .     [   and  this  ,     this  is  why  you  try  your  best  to  defy  destiny  .     you  can’t  stand  the  thought  of  forgetting  what  it’s  like  to  hold  onto  something  still  breathing  .     have  the  sparks  been  flying  since  then  ?     or  have  you  risen  up  from  the  ashes  to  beat  a  decaying  horse  ?   ]

i  was  drowning  ,     is what he failed to say in return .     i  was  drowning  before  i  met  you  .     i  was  drowning  until  you  .     caspian takes another shaky breath ,    as shallow as the sand furrows     ⸻     greedily inhaling the sight of them like it wouldn’t take long at all until he dives back down .     ❛   your  security detail  was  afflicted  during  what  seems  to  be  an  attack  .     i  am  doing  what  i  can  to  keep  you  safe  .   ❜ 

because an unarmored room with barely anything on his person but a handgun is the absolute model of safety for the prince of this nation     ⸻     fuck  ,     we  really  must  get  out  of  here  .

further from a  turtle  dove  than he is from a helpless fish out of water ,    caspian hushes the chaotic symphony in his mind for a blissful moment by imagining himself dangling above a shoreline ,     the cityscape before him turning into the deep blue sea ready to break his fall     ⸻     it isn’t so hard to pretend when peter ,     his superhero ,      his  ocean - eyed  wonder ,     thoughtlessly sails through the air as if it were water .     if this mindful exercise is what helps his heartbeat calm into a gentle thrum can be left up to debate  :     the truth is that he never finds  atlantis  in  new  york  city  ;     he instead discovers the underwater metropolis hiding behind the misty shadows of a hasty kiss ,     diving ‘tween  rapid  currents  as if they were in a hurry to run out of oxygen .

@petervel  :     [   11 .   a  kiss  on  a  rooftop .   ]

❛   i’ve  got  so  much  adrenaline  in  me  right  now  ,   ❜     he distractedly explains against pillowy lips when latex - clad arm braces ‘round his own before a palm presses against his pounding heart ,     all but pulling him from the sharp edge of a dusty rooftop .     this is where caspian first  sprouts  his  wings ,     wondering when he will be brave enough to dive into the glittering basin stretching miles and miles towards the horizon .    [   something  about  him  in  your  arms  tells  you  that  you’ve  always  been  brave  ,     all  it  had  taken  was  a  little  shove  to  coax  you  along  .   ]     ❛   i  didn’t  even  realize  we  were  already  up  here  .     you  make  a  fine  distraction  .   ❜