Purposely lost but easily found.

-after a little game of book peek-a-boo, Mabel spins over to where John is sitting and goes beside him, with her Christmas present still in her grasp- -was smiling at him, but her hazels have narrowed and her brow has knitted in focus on the lower part of his face- ... -reaches out and three fingertips barely brush against his mustache- -quickly retracts hand- ... -reaches out again and her fingers linger there a moment before retracting- ... -stares-

-hands start sweating while being stared at- ….

…!!!! -freezes after Mabel touches his mustaches the first time-

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! -verging anxiety attack after the second touch-

Y-yes, Mabel? Is t-there something wrong with my… -leans forward and whispers very, very, very quietly- mustache?

(suddenly struck with realization) L’amour! (in a messy accent) …amor. Amor. Like the French l’amour. The Spanish (has slight difficulty with the “r” sound) amor.

(giggles) Wouldn’t people talk if I was “David”. I can quite see your mother now—declaring that you have (lightheartedly mimics his mother’s voice) no sympathy for her nerves.

"The Second" does not please me, for you are not my second. (smiles, sincerely, at him) You are my first. And my first you shall be till the stars decide to go for a swi—oh, heavens. Stars do go for swims don’t they? When a level river reflects off the night sky, the stars dive right in. Hmm… Very well. In that case, you shall be my first until…Heaven’s voice wears thin.

…I have digressed far, haven’t I? I feel as if I crossed two oceans. “David” is such a beautiful name. And if you are “David”, shall I be “Renée”?

#In the modern verse though #'May I address you as ''bae''?'#Jawn going to Letty 'I am here to seek your approval of my intentions to court your younger sibling Mabel Renee Ketterley.'#Jawn going for his first kiss with Mabe 'I have a desire to kiss you for reasons I cannot fathom. May I?'#silverapple #mustacherp #...pfffft that's my tag for this thread??

[jumps a little, thinking he's being called "l'amour" before realizing his mistake and blushing because of it] Y-yes. [coughs] Yes, amor is love in Spanish.

[smiles at the imitation, agreeing, too, that it was a very good portrayal of his mother] If it means anything to you, I would still love you even if your name is "David." A-ah. [fumbles with hands and blushes] stars are luminous spheres of plasma with enough mass to sustain their own nuclear fusion at their core. Once a star's hydrogen depletes and helium is only left, a star, depending on its size, can develop into--[smiles weakly] that was not your intention, was it? Were you using stars in a figurative sense? [nods to himself] Surely... [realizes he babbled about stars when it isn't part of the conversation] for you have not crossed two oceans... due to the fact... you're... still... here.

[jumps again] R-Renée? That is... resplendent. If I-I-I may, may I address you as Renée?

A Christmas Novella | John and Mabel

Picture an early, early morning in mid-April: the pleasantness of a thick Saturday fog, the wrinkles of overcast sky not cloaking the pockets of the rising sun, a slow horse pulling a rickety wagon ridden by an old black woman calling the names of vegetables as she went. The Kirke cottage was wrapped in a very spring Christmas—tiny white blooms of jasmine and the lavish purpleness of morning glories wrapped themselves around the bench Mabel sat on. The leaves on the vines on the wall behind her swayed with every gradual passing of warm wind. Birds had congregated in the big lilac tree and were singing just so. In that moment, Mabel wondered if God really wanted people to build cathedrals and have the Sabbath inside.

She turned slightly, the thin pages of her handmade Bible now fluttering shut on her lap, and saw inside the dimly lit bedroom. She saw John’s back—Great Scott, he’s perfect—and gently tapped the glass with three fingertips. She smiled brightly at him, raised a palm indicating for him to, please, wait. Leaving behind shrinking, blueish-gray dots of condensation, the hem of her silver dress spun around her ankles as she skipped toward the door.

Opening the front door and at the same time removing her flats to expose long bare feet, she felt distance between them close like a pull in the pit of her stomach. Like magic. Like the best kind of expectation. Like she had been away from him for years rather than an hour.

She opened the door slowly, then closed it behind her till she heard a a click. Back still pressed against the knob, her teeth, her eyes, yes, even her wrinkles, smiled.

"Good morning, my love. I did not know you were awake yet. I didn’t make breakfast yet becaus—…oh! Odontoglossum crispum! Oh, David, who told you about these? I thought they only grew in Colombia. My…” she sighed dreamily as she knelled before the nightstand as if she were about to pray. Her chin sank slowly onto the back of her hand as it rested on the wood. Slowly removing her reading spectacles, she placed the frames sideways against the pot. “Oh! And they have something to help them stand, excellent. I never seen one before. I had no idea they grew in Narnia!”

She sat beside him—on his right side, on her pillow—and hugged his arm.

#''Mabel bundles Jawn all up when he goes outside in the winter and leaves all these love notes in his pockets''#Yes please. I like this~#silver apple #silverapple #novella

He was not prepared and he demonstrated it by stumbling to his feet at the sound of Mabel's voice. His researches on Odontoglossum crispum and Walden remained in his arms alongside the wrapped book. They slammed onto his chest at the same moment his feet struck the floor.

"G-Goodning! N-No..." John succumbed to a wince and a cringe. Refusing to unlock his elbows lest the gifts tumble unceremoniously into Mabel's visual perception, John stood there, arms crossed, shoulders slumped, as if a burdensome load was strapped to his back. He lingered with trepidation lining his moving yet inaudible lips.

The sight of Mabel admiring the Odontoglossum crispum had an immediate effect. It must have been how the light accentuated her nose, or how her eyes shone when she stepped inside the room and saw him. He must have appeared in a similar fashion to her--vasodilation upon the face and an increased heart rate in the chest. It was an unconscious reaction, for she always had a vast landscape upon her. Her cheeks were gentle mountains, much like how the valleys of her collarbones were angular yet soft, their edges burnished, welcoming in sight and warm in touch. A tree grew from her torso, mighty, resolute, dressed in the beauty of gray that could never be drab as long as it hung from her frame. He only need to reach out to dip his fingers in her hair, engulf himself, drown himself.

He sat down, elbows unhinging. "Good... good morning. Narnia has an extensive array of flora and I have been fortunate enough to come across this species of Orchidaceae. I... I..." Working with stiff fingers, John managed to pry out his Christmas card near overflowing with a line of holiday greetings and paragraphs worth of the history about the Odontoglossum crispum. Underneath the card was its twenty-page continuation. "T-This is... T-T-This is. For Christmas."

A fool. You are a fool. He clutched onto the second half of his gift. Isn't that enough already? You have given her mundane material to consume instead of a bouquet of flowers or a golden necklace. You have done enough. His toes curled in their socks. John, you fool.

The condescending voice still ringing in his ears, John presented the wrapped Walden and his fifty-two pages of notes. Though his head was bowed, he kept his gaze solely on Mabel. As it always should be.

Caeruleus | Digory and John

digory-kirke-blog

Can it talk?, he thought. The boy was on the sofa, his gaze focused on a small spot on the ceiling. He could not see very well without his glasses, but he was seeing the spider well enough. It had made a web just above the sofa, it was small but large enough to catch another bug. Sadly, for the spider, no other bug was visiting that part of the ceiling. Can it talk?, he thought again. Probably not.

The boy still remembered that day, that happened a few years ago for him, but for this land had been much more. The day the Great Lion gave the other animals the ability to talk. But he still remember that not to them all. And he didn’t remember any spider talking that day. But if it could talk, what would it say?

He was bored. So bored that he was watching a spider and thinking if it could talk and what would it say. His mother was away. It made him happy and sad at the same time. She was helping the others, and it was good. But she had been away for so long now… And his father, always locked in his studying room. Digory had his breakfast alone. And the lunch. Would he have dinner alone too? And then the sound of life: a door being opened. His father.

The spider wasn’t interesting for him anymore. Even if it could talk, there weren’t a more interesting mind than John’s. Digory made his way to the kitchen.

And there he was. Sitting, reaching for a napkin. The boy could not help but smile. It was just him or there was ink on his father’s face? Digory decided to seat in the chair just in front of his father’s. There were so much he wanted to talk but suddenly all the subjects were gone from his mind. “How are the books?” Was what slipped from his tongue instead.

#PFFT LIKE I CAN?#Gah. Digory~ I really like your Digory.#digory kirke #caeruleus

Figuratively speaking, the onslaught of incoming footsteps pushed John's hands to his chest. Was it Mabel? It must be Mabel. She would catch him with a stomach deprived of its daily nutrition and, in turn, she would catch him being irresponsible. Would she then cast a look of disappointment? Would she inwardly reprimand herself for trusting him to this extent? He could already hear her sweet words masking her disapproval. It was to be expected, a natural occurrence. His knuckles whitening, John braced himself.

He saw Digory slip into view. His muscles eased and he immediately inhaled, which meant his diaphragm had been pushed down, leading to a reduction in the air pressure. When he breathed out, it led to the diaphragm relaxing and the lungs collapsing. It was a simple method, one that didn't need conscious effort. But he liked it. Knowing something gave him the figurative sense of security. John eased into his seat, the wrinkles around his eyes deepening as he smiled at his beloved son.

"Son." It was a name only to be uttered with the metaphoric breath of spring. Feeling the warmth exuding from the name, he said, "My books are fine. I'm almost done. Perhaps, once I get paid, we could buy you more books? Ones that do not need translations, of course. Oh, but I was unaware that you're home today. O-oh!" John felt his face reddening. "You being here of course doesn't bother me... it's always a joyous moment to be with you. I merely assumed... well, you are always the curious boy, always exploring and always learning. Therefore... based on past observations... by Jove! You were home all this time! Have you consumed a proper meal today?"

John sprung out of his chair and nearly flung himself to the kitchen counter. Fumbling with the hot kettle of coffee in one hand, he scoured for a plate, eating utensils, and edible food. He pleaded for his hands to resist from trembling any further. "C-Coffee, Son? N-N-No. You wouldn't like black co--do you? I have never asked if you like coffee. I presumed--by Jove, I am a horrible, horrible father. You need to eat and grow strong! What you like to eat? I'll cook--" An image metaphorically flickered in his mind. It was this very kitchen, dirty in every sense due to creating toffee. John swallowed. "P-Perhaps, we can dine out?"

nrpconfessions

NRP characters are contagious.

nrpconfessions

Submitted by Prunaprismia

Source (x)

#Because yes.#ooc

-hands start sweating while being stared at- ….

…!!!! -freezes after Mabel touches his mustaches the first time-

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! -verging anxiety attack after the second touch-

Y-yes, Mabel? Is t-there something wrong with my… -leans forward and whispers very, very, very quietly- mustache?

-quietly—her voice just above a whisper but often dipping into such-

…not to change the subject, but…

-nibbles on her bottom lip and then giggles-

…you know what General Peridan calls Miss Elizabeth? He calls her “Beth”~ He also calls her something in Spanish but I forgot what it translates to. … A-and Mrs Aislinn told me her husband once called her “Sailor” but only when he pretended to be cross… -giggles- … … -hastily adds, realizing he might not get the joke- Because she met him when she sailed to his… -realizes he will not get the joke anyways- …island. …

But um…-meekly, while her exposed toes curl and uncurl- you don’t have a name. I mean! One I gave you. Oh, there’s nothing wrong with “John”. I love your name. It sounds like drawn and fawn and oh… -sighs dreamily- dawn… But it’s your…-nose wrinkles absently- father’s name as well. I just want to call you something…a name your mother doesn’t often call you ifthat’sokay.

… -feeling silly, she blushes again and nestles the side of her head into his shoulder so he can’t see her face-

#GROWN adults yet I feel like I'm writing for a teenage boy in his awkward high school freshmen year #BUT this:#''BUT CAN YOU IMAGINE BERN MARRYING CELEA AND BEING MAR’S DAD LIKE NO''#By Tash. Mar would be that brat who would try to break the marriage aparttttt.#Back to Jawn and Mabe. I just like how Jawn doesn't think much about Mabe's comments on his name.#He's just like ''Oh she's so great. I love her lots.''#silver apple #silverapple #mustacherp

-stops moving his thumb and starts to concentrate really hard on what Mabel is trying to say- -stiffens, his eyebrows slightly furrowing, as he makes a futile attempt to grasp the connection between “sailor” and Mabel’s explanation-

…W-Well. -clasps his hands together- …W-Well. …”Bess” is yet another shortened adaption of the given name, “Elizabeth”… -closes his eyes, lips slightly moving as if reprimanding himself-

… -bowing his head, he opens his eyes and peeks up at her- T-Thank you. It gives me profound happiness to know that my name is like dawn. I-I-If you like, y-you can have the name “David.” I-I mean! I mean you can utilize the name “David.” F-For me. To call me… not to call yourself… for that is not your name… -blushes- However, it is such a name that belongs to my father. It would not be wrong to state my entire name belongs to my father… although he rarely uses “David” outside signing papers… nor does my mother use it… -wants to cover face but fights against the urge- You… can utilize “the Second,” if it so pleases you. I shan’t oppose to it.

#ROMANCE. ...sorry I had to publish this somewhere and I can't do it on the ooc dash because Jawn isn't part of NRP.#Technically #whatever #ooc

asabutterfielded

→COUNTDOWN TO CHRISTMAS: day 22

Asa and Jude for Roanne and Caelah. Long story short, because of those two (and my mum, i’m not gonna lie) I got into Asa. Look what have you done to me e.e hehe. <3

#''Look what have you done to me'' XDD #ah my manipulative cute Bruna. The Cat likes--I MEAN I like you.#Gah. Look at those clear and sharp gifs.#Digory Kirke #fc

Returning to You | John and Aslan

John was lost. Mentally, physically. He figuratively played with the idea of leaving, of seeking for help from a "talking Beast," which he heard about from Digory and Mabel. But just as he turned to strike a conversation with a Lophostrix cristata, he remembered that it was also Digory and Mabel who spoke about Him. But what was he supposed to do? Call out? Wait to be found? Would He even try to find him if he wished it enough? Or perhaps praying was a better option? But what was he supposed to do? Offer Him tea and biscuits? Faint?

The final, lingering thought weakened his legs. His resolve. He succumbed to immense strength of gravity and fell to his knees, his head hung, already defeated. Worries, suspicions, doubts. They were defeated. Abandoned, for now. In its place came a whispered name.

"A-Aslan? Aslan, p-p-please."

#...I don't like the starter. But. There you go. I'm sorry.#willingvictim #willing victim #returningtoyou

A Christmas Novella | John and Mabel

Odontoglossum crispum, also known as Curled Odontoglossum, is an epiphytic orchid. Held in a small, cerulean ceramic pot, the Odontoglossum crispum's flower spike grandly held the white blossoms of satin sepals and petals surrounding the bright lip. It was the epitome of health. Flower and leaves figuratively beamed and beside it, skeletal fingers drummed the bedside table.

John Kirke stood holding a small stack of papers, his gaze flicking from it to the stick he had recently tied to the flower spike in order to support it. Was it safe to leave the Odontoglossum crispum as such? Was it watered enough? Was the fertilizer the right kind? Most importantly, would Mabel like it? John, you blithering fool. You should have purchased the bouquet of flowers. A bouquet of flowers!

The drumming stopped as fingers stroked an arched leaf.

But a potted flora would last exceedingly longer than any bouquet, no matter how grand or immense that latter was. Yes, a potted Odontoglossum crispum would prove to be the best choice in the end. Right? Was it acceptable of him to think so? If he were to give Mabel this, would she be happy? Would she smile if he were to give her this? John laid down his papers on the bed and covered his face, which was hot to the touch as well as naked. It seemed his facial blood vessels had undergone vasodilation, thus increasing the flow of blood across his cheeks to create the reddening that he would surely witness if he were to seek the aid of a looking-glass. Such an intense reaction was undoubtedly a physiological reaction due to his anxiety since he was certainly not lacking oxygen. Yet.

Doing a few sets of breathing exercises, John patted his chest, hoping his heart rate would return to its resting state before Mabel arrived, for while awaiting for her appearance was not his initial intention, he was aware that being in the bedroom would constitute a meeting sooner or later. Before then, John resumed his internal debate on whether or not he should relinquish his attempt at a harmless Christmas card to Mabel. The man eyed the stack of papers. Great Scott, it's a novella, not a Christmas card. John, he repeated, you bloody fool. But it explains the brief history of the Odontoglossum crispum. But it's not a Christmas card. But it also has a myriad of tips, which he collected from various resources of books and printed researches, on how to care for the Odontoglossum crispum. But it's not a Christmas card. But it contains various myths and origins of symbolism that pertain to the Odonto--

"Great Scott," he murmured. "It's a novella."

John sat on the bed and withdrew a gift-wrapped book and another pile of paper, this time bound by string due to its size. Fingering his newly shaved face, he began to contemplate on whether or not he should announce the existence of his notes and annotations on Henry David Thoreau's Walden.

#I made the potted-plant canon -gets shot-#Also. Jawn is mustache-less now. It feels weird.#Jawn's Christmas gifts = essays #silver apple #silverapple #novella

Let Not Winters Ragged Hand Deface | Alyssa and John

Her lips trembled and her teeth loudly rattled against their own lines unintentionally for to AJ the air seemed to hold a desperately frosty chill. How many times had she told herself that she was strong enough to fight another war? How many times had she attempted to convince herself that the events that had unfolded, were nothing but a terrible dream? So many well-intentioned lies scraped and grated against her heart like a shredder against a helpless orange skin of a crisp carrot. Each brush with the grater meant losing a tiny fraction of her heart and composure.

Her disappoitment seemed to distress him and when she caught the expression upon his face through her squinted eyes, she murmired a soft, “I am sorry sir…” She hadn’t meant for it sound as sharp and pointed like a well set arrow shooting effortlessly into the air with intent to sink it’s teeth into the target.

The two main gates caused her to shudder violently. They rose like two pillars dividing the living from the dead, the war from the halls of paece, and the dividing line between horrors and pleasantries. Cair represented love, joy, and hope on most typical days…but today, today it represented survival, struggle, and a mellow undertone of foreboding darkness. Her eyes looked up for any sign of the loved ones, especially Peter.

There were so many wounded and suffering that her eyes quickly flooded with foggy heated tears. The suffering found within the castle walls became a burden pleaced upon AJ’s young and trembling shoulders. Quietly she sobbed, her chest heaved and her breaths grew stiffeningly harsh. If only AJ could heal her fellow soldiers with a touch of her hand, she would have. Their pain and anguish burnt deeply into her chest like scalding hot coffee upon the tongue; each image recorded within her mind. She nearly collapsed into a heap and had it not been for the sturdy shouldered escort, she surely would have fallen.

"These people and creatures…. are desperately hurting…." AJ cooly panted trying not to sound as hysterical as she felt. Each step towards the infirmary brought in it’s echoing wake the sound of past and present voices in a choatic collage.

The taunting voice of her uncle rang through the sharpest and the cruelest. He jeered, “you are weak Alyssa Julie Liberty. Weak people deserve to die.” Or His words, “you know nothing, ignorant child.” Perhaps the worst of all echoings came off Bram’s sharpest tongue just as he killed an innocent beggar. “Here we have your great and mighty ruler…a liberty… they have forsaken you Pittsburgh. You dare follow an incompetant ruler, you deserve to suffer the consequences.

All the voices added to the bewilderment of the dazed Jedi. Her ears felt hot and stung with a furious rage. She was being moved from the man’s ever helpful side and into the arms of another.

Thekind man who had helped her sounded sick. It was both comforting and alarming to hear that others, reacted similarly to war. But deep down the Jedi chastized herself for being to frail and easily moved by the sights around her.

His voice called her out of a solumne and rather hellish series of falshbacks.

He wanted to help…. and for now that explaination seemed satisfying enough. “Thank…thank you” she whispered graciously.

His second question however, would not be easy to answer. Physically, she had seen much batter days but this diagnosis paled in comparison to the emotional and mental faculties. Everything hurt, but figuring out what was worse seemed nearly impossible. Her heart rate had slowed drastically causing a swift wave of fatigue to drift like a heaven sent raincloud over her tired figure.

"I’m……I’m….I’m fine," she flatly murmured squirming in her bed, so as to get a look around for any signs of familiar faces. She’d never admit to being terrified, but she didn’t feel very secure… so many strange faces… so many injured. Was the infirmary another name for the place, people were taken to die? Was she, the invincible AJ Liberty, going to die here in this secluded and blood stained hall?

Taking her palm and pressing it subconsciously over her upper arm before pulling it away for analysis, she gasped at the coating of dark nearly purpleish or black ooz upon her hand.

"I’m …..I’m losing a lot of blood…… please sir….. if….if I don’t make it" she started in a pathetically weepy tone.

She swallowed harshly fighting to control her voice and her desire to burst out in tears before continueing, “tell my family…the libertys….and tell your king Peter….. that…that I love them.”

AJ didn’t know what more she could clearly convey to the man. Ten million thoughts raced through her mind, a million unfinished conversations suddenly emerged anxious to be continued, and her dreams slowly started dissolving as if they were sugar cubes being placed in steaming coffee.

#ladyalyssaliberty #deface

Blood is a bodily fluid that is circulated throughout the body by the heart via the blood vessels. The main functions of blood is to supply oxygen and nutrients; maintain homeostasis related to temperature and body pH; remove waste; send messages by use of hormones; and circulate white blood cells and other components needed to address foreign materials detected in the body. Blood in itself consist of multiple components such as erythrocytes, leukocytes, thrombocytes, and plas--

"--rke?"

The man started. After digging for his handkerchief from his pocket he wiped his brow, his lumbar vertebrae stuck against the washbasin as his shoulders fell forward. He could feel his scapulae scrape against the back of his cotton tunic. The scapula connects the humerus with the clavicle. The scapula's name originated from the Greek "skaptein," which means "to dig." The scapular is also known as--

"--Kirke?"

The shaking grip on the handkerchief failed the man, and he watched the flimsy cloth descend to his bloodied boots. He had to clean those boots. Mabel gave them to him. It was a Christmas gift. Did he have gifts yet? What would Mabel want? What would Digory want? Not want. Like. Like was a better word to use in this context. What would Mabel and Digory like? Books? But those were his gift to them last--

"John Kirke!"

John flinched and immediately looked up, his thoughts silenced at last.

The centauress lowered her voice. Wiping the young woman's forehead with the back of her hand, she ordered John, "Calm yourself, my good man, and get me fresh water and bandages."

"I-I-I-I apo... apolo-apo... s-sorry Madam C-Cloudbirth," John quickly finished after the centauress gave him an arched eyebrow. He took the wooden washbasin from the bedside table and hurried to replace the crimson water metaphorically daring to spill over his trembling arms, much like the bile that was accumulating in his throat, rising higher and higher in his stride. His face reddened at the thought of fainting at that very moment when he heard Cloudbirth. He flinched again instead.

"'If I don't make it?'" Cloudbirth repeated, her voice straining at the end. "'If I don't make it?' Don't speak like that, Lady Alyssa. Yes, I know of you. Do not think your reckless antics have escaped my notice. If your various mishap-adventures can only testify it in a way you would understand, you would know as well I do that you'll survive this. Who do you think I am? Do you really think I'll let you die?"

His chest and left arm soaked, John returned the washbasin to Cloudbirth along with the bandages draped on his right forearm. With wide and intrigued eyes he watched the centauress dress the young woman's wounds. Herbs and ointments were taken from the bedside table; the young woman was prodded to lie on her stomach then her back; and water was pink was once more. When John reached to replace the water, the centauress shook her head at him and pointed at the trail of water he left behind.

"Clean the spills and accompany Lady Alyssa." Her eyes softened. "You must be tired. Rest alongside the lady."

To avoid looking at the young woman snug in bed, John shut his eyes and bowed. He wasn't sure then what to do. What should he say? Should he ask her about her family? Maybe ask her where they were so he could get them. Or he can ask about King Peter and get him. Anyone would be better company than him. Anyone at all would always be better than him. His pity for the young woman grew. It must be abhorrent to have him as company. His toes curling, John opened one eye. He didn't stand. "D-d-do you k-know anyone in here?" Before he could stop himself, he added, "P-please don't die."

-hands start sweating while being stared at- ….

…!!!! -freezes after Mabel touches his mustaches the first time-

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! -verging anxiety attack after the second touch-

Y-yes, Mabel? Is t-there something wrong with my… -leans forward and whispers very, very, very quietly- mustache?

… …. -her wide eyes blink steadily at him as if he lost her from his first sentence, and slowly a crease between her eyes form- I don’t…think so. -has a vague idea of where the confusion lays- Your willingness is enough, darling.

-smiles reassuringly at him, but then it fades as he trails off- …since you…? -as he starts to breathe faster, she becomes worried- John? John David? Darling? -secures his hands with hers and feathers a light kiss on the back of one of his hands in attempt to steady him- -sighs in relief when he starts speaking again- I thought you were about to faint…

-brushes his hair lightheartedly behind his ear with her pointer and forefingers- I like being by yours too~ Just as much as I like being by your front and your back. But you don’t have to breathe so fast because I’m right here. -giggles and curls herself next to him-

#pfffft of course Bern would like to take all the credit. ...I guess Bern's the reason why Mar got into a lot of relationships.#silver apple #silverapple #mustacherp

-stiffens as she curls next to him, though he instantly relaxes after the initial shock wears off- Willingness... perhaps--

-suddenly remembers being called by his full name and blushes- I thoroughly apologize for frightening you. -rubs thumb over her knuckles absently, wondering if she could hear his heart beating fast simply because she's near-

-hands start sweating while being stared at- ….

…!!!! -freezes after Mabel touches his mustaches the first time-

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! -verging anxiety attack after the second touch-

Y-yes, Mabel? Is t-there something wrong with my… -leans forward and whispers very, very, very quietly- mustache?

-opens mouth to reply but she draws back in a thrilled little sigh- I know. -she says this with a mark of assurance and awe. She knows beyond doubt’s shadow that he loves her. If she let herself, she could just cry at how much their relationship has progressed-

-her smile slowly fades as he continues; despite the feeling of security wrapping around her fingers- …darling, I’m not certain He’d think wrongly of you if you had your mustache. I think He cares more about what your heart looks like. … -glances up at him and a sideways grin surfaces- I’m sure He’d appreciate you being so reverent, though.

…-another one of her grins blossoms on her expressions again—her eyes, her mouth, her teeth, her little wrinkles- I have to admit, I am wildly curious as so what you’d look like. -leans a little back and holds up the flat of her hand to cover the bottom half of his face- …hm. I can’t tell yet! -sits back up proper-

-seems to be wondering about something until she came to a conclusion which makes her blush possibly the deepest she ever had in all her life- …oh goodness, what if you’re even more beautiful than what you are now?! I hope I’m not very shy around you again…!

#...Irm is my only smooth-talking guy. By Tash.#silverapple #silver apple #mustacherp

My... heart? Is it not like the any other's heart, the muscular organ that pumps blood throughout the body via the use of the blood vessels that encompass the entire physical body? -puts hand over heart- I-I do not smoke unlike the other gentlemen I have met, for I once read smoking would have a negative effect on the lungs, which would in turn trouble the heart... but others must smoke for a reason more than it becoming an addiction. Am I missing a vital part of having faith in God, Mabel?

-breaks into a small smile and lets his hand fall over hers- I, too, do not know how I would look after I shave. It has been so long since I... -suddenly remembers that he keeps a mustache because it hides his face and even if it doesn't hide much, it has became a source of comfort that at least some of his face is covered- ... -starts to breathe faster- -is he ready? what if he isn't? he simply cannot grow one in a day, and a mask would be preposterous!- P-p-p-perhaps... -sees her blush and he starts to blush too- M-m-more beau-ful... beau-beautiful? -blushes more and forgets his worries for the moment- I-I-I hope not. I... I-I like b-being by y-your side.

Let Not Winters Ragged Hand Deface | Alyssa and John

She unsteadily spilled forwards but then strangely strong arms caught hold of her. His hands wisely did not make an attempt probe or poke about the wound, for that she was grateful. The injured Jedi princess’s forced her breath to steady as she tried to pay attention to the gentleman’s words.

"You…. what…?" AJ gasped, squinting her eyes in confusion, as if it would help her regain control of her focus. It took a few minutes for the information to process and register. She began to tremble uncontrollably, wither it was out of fear or loss of blood she could not tell; perhaps it was caused by a combination of both."

"You don’t know them…" she lowly stammered. Her tone revealed a frustration and fatigue that stretched far beyond the horizons of normalcy.

With the passing of each moment a new wake of numbness swept down her spine, as if a chilly gust of blistery wind had encompassed her like a box. Sore muscles were slowly becoming lax like melted rubber and unable to carry much of her own weight.

Then she heard a distinct word, “doctor?” Her blue eyes studied him in a stupefied confusion for a few moments before widening in understanding. Of course, her wounds would need attention. Yet the sound of being examined drew a fierce frown upon her lips. AJ had a healthy fear of the medical staff especially of a lady named XIAO.

Before she could present any further protest, the man was leading her inside.

Inwardly, she knew that refusing help would be futile and or fatal. She had a slight idea of how much blood she had lost and what would happen to her from past experiences in battle. The princess had seen others die from injuries like her own and yet, she never imagined herself in their shoes.

" Sir, If…. If…I don’t…. know….. you, then… why are….why are you helping me?" AJ asked from through tightly clenched teeth.

#ladyalyssaliberty #deface

War was terrible. From China to Denmark to the Americas, the books he read could never have prepared him for the actual experience of seeing, smelling, feeling the war that was unfurled in front of him. Lists of causalities and autobiographies didn't encompass as much of war as he once thought. They didn't tell him how spilled blood stuck to your shoes as you walk by; they didn't tell him how difficult it was to breath because the air was heavy and thick; they didn't tell him how you would feel your stomach churn at the sight of dead bodies and of weak, broken, survivors. John swallowed the bile that had rose in his throat.

"You don't know them..."

The sudden words, figuratively speaking, cut through John, making him flinch at what he took as an accusation. He didn't know them. He didn't know her. That was the truth of the matter, and although he was leading the young woman to the infirmary, he was useless in abating her worries. He always had been a failure in understanding others. The emotional capacity of humans was vast, and it was also a subjective experience characterized by psychophysiological and biological reactions working alongside one's mental state. How was he, a mere man, to understand all that? Shoulders slumping forward, the man mumbled an apology. He couldn't do much else but help her reach the centaur, the doctor, the one who would know how to physically and emotionally mend the young woman. The two made their way past the main gates of the castle.

And another inquiry was asked. The man drew his gaze away from the young woman. Why was he helping her? Why was he helping a stranger? Why her when so many others needed his help? Because Mabel and Digory would do the same. She was an instrument to be used upon easing his own guilt for refusing Peridan's offer to help Narnia. He pitied her. Those were all correct. John rolled his left shoulder to keep most of the young woman's weight on him. Those were all correct but none felt right.

When the two finally reached the infirmary, a female centaur effortlessly carried the young woman to a nearby vacant bed. Released from the physical burden, John just as quickly found himself at a sink, vomiting his breakfast.

But he also realized he was speaking. He turned to the young woman, whose arm was being cleaned, and he repeated what he said. "I-I-I... s-simply wished t-t-to... help." John looked away, blushing. "H-how are y-y-you?"

-hands start sweating while being stared at- ….

…!!!! -freezes after Mabel touches his mustaches the first time-

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! -verging anxiety attack after the second touch-

Y-yes, Mabel? Is t-there something wrong with my… -leans forward and whispers very, very, very quietly- mustache?

-gently- Oh, of course. -her eyes are welling too and she giggles wetly along with him- John, God gives you till your last breath and you won’t be gasping any time soon~ -strokes his hand with her left while the right holds it- And marrying you was my choice. -sighs in relief and smiles- I’m happy about it too~

-considers a moment, eyes averted, nibbling on bottom lip- Hm… I suppose you…call Him. And He…comes?

-as his eyes widen so do her’s in enthusiasm- Oh yes! I did! He’s a panthera leo! Oh the largest I ever seen! John he’s—he’s—he’s…terrifying and yet oh so beautiful. His eyes were so watchful—watching past, present and future—watching my face.

-bottom lip kind of juts out but she’s still smiling- I’m honest when I say He’d love to talk with you.

#silverapple #silver apple #mustacherp

-leans to her touch- I love you. ... -clears throat suddenly, blushing-

-smiles while she explains, captivated by her excitement-

I'll talk to Him soon. -his hand tightens around hers- ...maybe after I shave? To look presentable...

Caeruleus | Digory and John

Placing the pen down and then rubbing his eyes, John leaned back from his desk. Three dictionaries and a half-translated book written in Latin were engulfed in the creeping light from behind light curtains. From the position of the sun and the length of the shadows spread across startling green grass, it was mid-afternoon and he hadn't had his breakfast nor lunch. Knowing Mabel would suggest for him to eat if she was not at Dancing Lawn giving food to injured Narnians, the man stood with, figuratively speaking, a creak in his back and groan in his throat. His eyes itched, but he made a conscious effort to stop his hands from rubbing them any further.

As the man reached the kitchen, he made coffee and sat at the dining table made of Chloroxylon swientenia lined with Diospyros crassiflora. It was against his better judgment that he begun to rub his eyes once more. The war was over. Rations would be smaller. A translator of books is not the best source of income, but what else was he capable of doing? He must earn an income for food. Was this the worry of an everyday man? If it was, it was unsettling.

John raised his hands from his eyes and studied them. They look old. Ah! And they were smudged with ink! John jolted in his seat and sought for a napkin for his surely inked face.

#digory kirke #nrpmasterlist #caeruleus

Let Not Winters Ragged Hand Deface | Alyssa and John

Her blue eyes scanned the battlegrounds and her heart grew increasingly heavy, as if it had suddenly turned to stone. Nothing could erase the terrors from her memory, not even the addition of stubbornly stinging tears. The battle had been won, but even blessed victory could not change the horrific loss life experienced at the hands of darkness.

Aura’s reached out to her for help from all corners of the crimsoned stained land, but she could not rise to meet their needs. The princess shook violently for she herself had not been spared from injury. But at the moment she wished only to find information about her friends and know their well-beings. Her head of sloppy curls bowed as she tried to single handedly push her tired body from it’s kneeling position into a standing one.

If there was one thing AJ hated more than death it was admitting that she could not do something without assistance from another. Asking for help meant admitting that Bram and countless other enemies had always been right about her; she was weak, vulernable, and destructable. Swallowing the thick clump of pride rising in her throat she worked up the courage to do the unthinkable.

"Could you….please….help me?" She beckoned quietly extending her unbroken and crimson stained arm towards a strikingly familiar aura. A fractured ankle-bone and bruised thigh made it difficult to move, much less stand. Her right arm bore the brunt of the attacks and hung limply within the bloodsoaked flag turned tourniquet. Her upper right shoulder bore a piercing circular hole and it ozzed with fresh sparkling coats of the waxy liquid.

"I need to know…. where my family is…. tell me… please…" she stammered almost incoheriently. " Can you tell me about….Peter? Lucy? Uncle Peridan? Liz? Aldara?" Names spilled off her tongue at an uncontrollably rapid rate for she had considered many Narnians members of her family. The loss of blood was begining to paint things in a frosted indestinguishable blurr, but she cared more about the others at the moment.