Knows Everything, Knows Nothing

Hi, I am Restimar. Lord Restimar. I like long walks on the beach and candle-lit dinner by--pineapples are delicious. Oh, and I am great friends with Number Nine... I think he goes by Caspian IX to others. No matter. Anyway, you may have heard of me for my intellectual mind, dashing good looks, and that I was the lordfoundinDeathwaterIsland. It was a hot day, okay? I am one of the Seven Lords. ((part of NRP but will rp with anyone; icon credit; tracks #restimarofthesevenlords))

[unrefinedstoryteller-archive]

//Hey guys. Long time no see. And yet here I am telling you that I won’t be active on this blog anymore. I’m closing down my following rp accounts:

Aravis - unrefinedstoryteller

Restimar - restimarofthesevenlords

Swanwhite - reflectedremains

They’ll be transferred to my character blog, and that’s where I’ll continue developing them. …once I get my character blog going, that is.

However, I’ll still be active on Maugrim (horrendouslygentle) and Cheshire Cat (tthedreamcarrier). For those I follow on my now inactive blogs, I’ll re-follow them on either Maugrim’s or the Cat’s (and I’ll put a link to my character blog there eventually). I’m sorry for the abrupt announcement, but this is for the sake of my mental health. Thank you for understanding and for the great times. I’ll see you guys around, okay?~

-Ro

[restimarofthesevenlords-archive]

Cloaked with Realization [@honourandgloryofamouse]

honourandgloryofamouse

In the vast Great Eastern Ocean, there was one particular island housing but one lake. Heather and seagulls were all its company. An empty island, quiet. It may have been for the best, for in its tranquility was death (it didn't garner the name "Deathwater Island" for nothing, after all).

There was once another being who stayed with the island: a golden statue. It lay at the bottom of the lake, and there it remained for seven years, asleep, unchanged, a smile etched on its face, oblivious still to the tragedy it dove into until the Dawn Treader's return home.

Restimar jolted up. Air invaded their lungs. Sunlight brushed their hair dry, rubbed their skin warm, whispered a question cloaked with realization.

I'm alive.

What happened?

With only trousers on, Restimar stood, cupped their hands around their mouth, and yelled, "Ozes! Mavy! Hoot-Hoot! Where are you?"

[restimarofthesevenlords-archive]

Judging by what was seen in the film, the fate of Lord Restimar seems exactly the same as it was in the book, with the small exception that [they] seemed to have accidentally fallen into the pool instead of deliberately.

Narnia Wikia

[restimarofthesevenlords-archive]

Weaponless, Innocent [Alyssa and Restimar]

ladyalyssaliberty

Restimar watched from afar, their hands wrung, their body light. Upon entering Beruna, they abandoned their knives and poison and odds and ends (which if I try to list them all, I would fill pages upon pages, and you would surely find it boring). Ice washed over their limbs at the mound of weapons once strapped to their arms, legs, torso, back, hair. They were everywhere. They scared them.

They shoved the items inside a random crate in an alley and left.

It was an action they regret now that they stood in the town square, surrounded by so many beings laughing and arguing. One such person was Alyssa, though Restimar didn't notice her until, after walking backwards to avoid a drunk giant, nearly toppled over her.

"I'm sorry!" cried Restimar. Lips quivering, hands shaking, they asked, "Are you angry with me?"

[restimarofthesevenlords-archive]

*chucks paper* Back at you.

LITTERING. 

I’m going to tell the teach—oh.

[restimarofthesevenlords-archive]

To: Restimar the if-you-cut-me-my-mom-is-gonna-make-pie-out-of-you Love: Boy who CAN fight But chose not to

"CAN"

"C A N"

"C   A   N"

[restimarofthesevenlords-archive]

To: The rest of the masterlist whose submit box isn't open, namely

unrelentinglioness

lasaraleen-tarkheena

cursedtoremember

myheartwillproveit

little-lost-lad

anne-featherstone

sagelysoldier

Love: Restimar the Master-of-Valentine's-Day

[restimarofthesevenlords-archive]

"CONGRATULATIONS! You're the 53rd person to avoid making eye contact with me today! That means you get a free invasion-of-personal-space hug!" ((new york verse AJ Liberty))

"But I wasn’t avoiding eye contact."

"I was trying to see if I can—never mind~ Come on, then! Lay a big one on me!"

[ladyalyssaliberty]

"Noa…. not exactly," AJ stammered, caught off guard by his blunt question.  "I’ma sorry. I don’ta know many other names…." the eighteen-year-old Italian American stammered. Her shoulders fell in defeat. 

"Ryo…ryouma?" She stammered trying to force her foreign tongue to accept the strange name. Mar? Mar, was far easier for her to pronounce. 

"Iyah thinka I’ma gonna call you Mar. Itsa easier fora me to pronounce," AJ remarked. 

"The names Alyssa Julie Liberty. Everyone callsa me AJ….." she replied.  

[restimarofthesevenlords-archive]

"Well, I know many names,” Ryouma boasted as if there was anything to boast about. “I know Mavy, Octy, Bernie, Hoot-Hoot, Rev-Rev, Ozes. There’s Oreos, garlic bread, pizza, chocolate—have you ever gotten an avocado mask before? Are they delicious?”

They slung their arm around their new friend. “AJ! That’s an easy name to remem--" A sly smile broke through. "Hey, Edgy, why are you called Edgy?”

[restimarofthesevenlords-archive]

how are you Restimar ~Princess Angela Liberty

"I’m boooooored."

[ladyangelaliberty]

She smiled you like to throw them at people? I was think of……… oh what the hands him a perfectly good pinallpe. She saw there no poit in fight him about it.

[restimarofthesevenlords-archive]

They clapped their hands before grabbing the pineapple, hugging it close to their chest despite the spikes. "Let's throw it at fauns!"

[digory-kirke-blog]

"At long last! I’ve finally found you! Now I can kill you!"

Restimar wasn’t the most sane person Digory knew, though sometimes he was as clever as his father. But Restimar had never threatened to kill Digory. It had to be a joke. “And what are you going to do? Slap me with a pineapple?”

[digory-kirke-blog]

"I know! She is just worried I might get hurt. You know how mums are." He shrugged. "I’ve never played it but-No!" Digory said a bit too loud, "No princesses stuff, they are boring. Let’s do the villain and hero again. But…"Blue eyes glanced around the ground in hope to find something better than a pineapple. "Oh!" Digory grabbed a stick and broke it in two parts, offering one to Restimar, "Now we have better swords. Come, teach me now."

[restimarofthesevenlords-archive]

"I know!" Restimar said, nodding vigorously until their hair tie came loose. They took the stick from Digory and started waving it wildly. "Moms are scary. Did your mom try to stab you too when you wouldn't wash your hands before dinner? Look at my cut sleeves. I--oh, oh! Say it after me."

Jumping back, Restimar raised their stick. "Twisted Two-Headed Serpent of Trees! I summon thee!"

"How's that?"

[restimarofthesevenlords-archive]

Bucket of Knives

[mentius-deactivated20150507]

"I suppose it—okay." The faun obediently accepted the container bristling with knives without further ado. The son of Adam had a rather odd collecting hobby, but if everyone had boring hobbies, well, then the world would be a meaningless place to be alive in.

"I’d say I’m rather short for a faun," Mentius commented, ruefully grazing a hoof across the floor. "I’m barely 1.7 meters and not likely to grow any taller. Comes from too much roughhousing with my brothers, I guess." 

A crooked, delighted grin gleamed. “I’d like to know what you’d have in mind if I said I were. Strong, that is. Say, I suppose you know you’re a very dashing figure.” The eye patch reminded the faun very much of pirates.

[restimarofthesevenlords-archive]

"I know, I know. I'm beautiful," said Restimar, chucking one last knife in the bucket.

They were rough hands, rugged, rusty, quite grimy. From their dry knuckles and drier palms, they knew more of inflicting harm than comfort. But they were also childish, and at the notion of being better than someone (though, mind you, being taller doesn't mean one is better than another), a hand clasped the faun's shoulder while its owner laughed.

"And you're short!" said Restimar.

Quite honestly, apart from the small difference of a mere two or so centimeters in height, there was nothing else that made Restimar better. Or bigger, to be more precise. Compared to their friend, who was quite toned and hairy, Restimar was the scrawny child who straddled between childhood and adulthood. In fact, their sharp elbow aimed for the faun's ribs as Restimar led him out of the alley. They pointed at a tree in the town square whose branches hanged above a fruit stall.

"I want you to go up there and pour all the pointy, pointy, sharp, sharp knives over everyone there. Won't that be a big surprise?" The same elbow went for the same ribs.

"Oh, I forget. Do you want"--Restimar patted their pants pockets and retrieved a woven pouch--"this? Yummy muffins." They waved it in front of the faun, eyes darting to the rather empty appearance of the pouch. "Are they--yes, they are! Flat muffins!"

[silence-and-slumber-archive]

Help Comes With a Price *Naerwen and Restimar*

Holding her breath until she was sure the knife didn’t strike the Faun, Naerwen let out a heavy gasp of great relief when it missed. Glaring at the Lord, she ignored the attempt at intimidation. She was startled, and perhaps even frightened, but she was emboldened as well. She would not submit when all she had done was protect one who showed concern for her.

The Faun, meanwhile, watched the exchange in awe. How she had changed! The girl he’d helped to raise never would have stood her ground when confronted like this! One mean look or cruel word would have left the timid girl in tears. Her shy and sensitive nature could never bear anything but kindness, and her tormentors knew that!

Perplexed by the sudden change in the human, the Faun stared. Confusion colored his wrinkled visage, eyes narrowing. Arms crossed in front of his chest. “What sort of question is that?” He stammered before looking at the girl. “Are you all right, my dear?”

The girl’s earthen eyes turned from her companion to the stranger, defiance giving way to gratitude, and took in the concern scribed there on the face of the Faun. No, no she wasn’t all right. How could she be when everything was so wrong? Aslan had promised her Knight would be there. Yet she was alone. She had no memories save that terrible attack. She had no name but the one given to her by those who didn’t know what else to call her. She had no choice to even make known her agony! Fingers locking in the hair, then combing through, she sighed; shoulders dropping in defeat. With a nod, she tried to smile.

[restimarofthesevenlords-archive]

Shaking off Naerwen's grasp, the lord scooped up the knives and returned them in their sleeves, humming as they did so.

As expected of the lord, they didn't pick up on the subtleties of the situation. While the faun looked on in awe then confusion, Restimar counted their knives (for if they miss one, they'll have to find it later in the dark, and if you ever searched for something in the dark, you'd know why Restimar would rather not do that). When Naerwen's face softened, reverting back to her usual tenderness which could garner the love of even the most cold-hearted Ettins in the north, Restimar was crouching over a dandelion, a grimy finger poking it in accordance to how many dried pineapples they have in their pocket.

“Are you all right, my dear?” the faun asked Naerwen.

Poking halted, Restimar sat cross-legged, threw back their head, and stared at an upside-down Naerwen. Albeit their viewpoint was skewed (in more ways than one, I must have you know), they caught those fleeting emotions that someone would rather bury than share. It was a silly thing to the lord, to bury an emotion, but it was also interesting to observe. They almost giggled while the girl's expression remained gentle despite the changes raging underneath. At the moment Naerwen combed her fingers through her hair, Restimar gathered enough.

"She's not fine," Restimar said, crossing their arms like the faun. "It's obvious, isn't it? It is your fault."

Not minding their backside getting dirty, Restimar scooted around until they were facing both their new friend, Naerwen, and their newer than new friend, the faun. Restimar looked from the girl to the faun. "You still haven't told me if you--I changed my mind. Do like to eat grass? How about lavender tea?" The lord shuddered. "So. Flowery."

[restimarofthesevenlords-archive]

how are you Restimar ~Princess Angela Liberty

"I’m boooooored."

[ladyangelaliberty]

if you are boooooooooooooored let have some fun with pinapples! @restimarofthesevenlords

[restimarofthesevenlords-archive]

Like throwing them at people?

[digory-kirke-blog]

"At long last! I’ve finally found you! Now I can kill you!"

Restimar wasn’t the most sane person Digory knew, though sometimes he was as clever as his father. But Restimar had never threatened to kill Digory. It had to be a joke. “And what are you going to do? Slap me with a pineapple?”

[digory-kirke-blog]

It was too insane to Digory. First off, the boy didn’t like fights. Why on Earth he agreed on doing this? Second, the pineapple. Digory raised both hands, “Fine. But still, you should find another weapon. I’m not buying this soaring spikes fruity of terror thing.”

[restimarofthesevenlords-archive]

Once again, the lord dropped the pineapple (by then it was rather bruised).

"But your mom said no knives. Argh! Don't you play villain-and-hero? Don't you want to have a sword and say, 'Come hither!' and then attack with, 'Rising Dragon of Lightning!'? Don't you?" Crossing their arms, Restimar tilted their head. "Do you want to play save-the-princess then? I can be the princess as long I slay the dragon."

[nalanitheloststar]

First Impressions. {Nalani and Restimar}

[nalanitheloststar]

Her face was emotionless as she listened to the man talk about nothing unless you counted his half introduction. Really if this was how all Narnian talked, well the sons and daughters of Adam and Eve, then she was probably better off with the non-human Narnians. She had to admit she did miss the company of the ones she had lived among but she had to find out who she was so she had to leave. 

Eying the dagger the stranger was tossing in his hand, Nalani gripped her own weapons all the more tighter. She had a two daggers hidden in each boot, a quiver full of arrows and another dagger hanging from her belt. Even though she was on high alert and cautious she really was in no mood to fight anybody today. But if it was a fight this stranger wanted. Then he was going to get it.

A finely shaped brow arched at the man’s proclamation. “And how, exactly do I look funny to you?” Hopefully this man, Restimar as he had introduced himself, was not, as some would say, mad. But, really, who giggled and acted like he was for no reason at all?

restimarofthesevenlords

[restimarofthesevenlords-archive]

To be honest, there wasn't anything funny about the young woman with the bow. It wasn't like she was trying to be comical by standing on her head or sticking her tongue up her left nostril. She was utterly normal, and if you were to ask me, she seemed dangerous (anyone with a bow looks dangerous, I would think). But Restimar, as expected, found everything funny. The way she looked at them made her eyebrows uneven. The way she stood reminded them of the dwarf they drenched in water. The way she held onto her bow, tightly, prepared, calculative, mimicked the faun whom they killed in the last war. That last bit especially made the lord laugh, and they doubled over, doing just that. 

Their knife remained in hand, however.

Finished indulging in their many fancies, the lord straightened, shrugging, then pointed at their nose. "This. This. Your nose looks funny. Is it my turn to ask the questions? Yes, it's my turn. Be quiet and let me think." They started counting with one hand. "What is your name? What are you doing? Are you a spy? Why do you look funny? Do you like pineapples? What is your favorite tea? Are you here to assassinate Little Cassie? How are you--"

Restimar squinted at the young woman. "Who are you?"

nalanitheloststar

[restimarofthesevenlords-archive]

Bucket of Knives

[mentius-deactivated20150507]

It was a risky venture to send a faun of Mentius’s easily entertained nature and naturally exuberant character into town on a fair day for any sort of task. So when the faun was asked to go to market to pick up green apples, he was swiftly deterred from his job by the delightful dance floor that the cobbled streets provided. He nearly danced right into the human who just landed in the alley, an action which startled Mentius into realizing that he’d gotten himself lost.

"Excuse me, good sir," the faun began, when burst of chatter clattered through the narrow street with mumbles of lion manes. Mentius cleared his throat. "Excuse me? Would you happen to know where—" Only he’d dropped his grocery list, of course. "Never mind about that. What is your zodiac sign?"

[restimarofthesevenlords-archive]

It was a wooden bucket, a simple one, though it was a bit worn around its rim. It spent most of its life delivering water from the shore to the beach and the sand castle surrounded by children and a lord with drenched sleeves. When it poured its gift into the sand moat, children and lord cheered. The bucket was a hero. It was a wooden bucket, an empty one today, though not for long.

Restimar slipped both hands into their sleeves and pulled out several knives. Digging into their boots, patting their waist, and hunting through various pockets in the front of their tunic and at the sides of their trousers, more and more knives saw the afternoon sun above, burning across the still sky. They gleamed at the lord as Restimar tossed them in the bucket, not minding the blades.

"A bucket of knives, a bucket of knives," they sang, their thumb numbed red. "After the dwarf, who's next? A bucket of--"

"Excuse me? Would you happen to know where—never mind about that. What is your zodiac sign?"

One knife dangling above the bucket, Restimar turned at the voice. "What's a zodiac sign? Is it yummy--hold this."

Jumping to their feet, Restimar handed the now half-filled bucket to their new friend (for a stranger is always a new friend to them) and stepped back, the knife in hand tapping one cheek as Restimar squinted. "You look tall enough. Are you strong?"

[silence-and-slumber-archive]

Help Comes With a Price *Naerwen and Restimar*

Nearly jumping out of his skin as the knife went sailing past his face, the ancient Faun froze. Who exactly was this friend of his little charge’s? She never would have associated with the likes of people like this before.

The girl meanwhile, raced forward when she saw the Lord throw the blade. Grabbing at the wrist, she tried to pull the arm down. She had seen the Faun right at the last second. And something in her compelled her to protect him.

“Is it such a crime now,” The Faun began as he gathered his thoughts. “To worry for the well-being of others that it demands the tossing of blades in recompense? I merely sought to know if the girl was alright. Her distress is plain.” Turning to her, his eyes grew even sadder. He never could bear to see her upset.

Narrowing her eyes and tilting her head slightly, Naerwen gazed at the old Faun curiously. He seemed to know her, and it was clear he cared. But why? How?

[restimarofthesevenlords-archive]

Another knife stung the air, aimed directly for the faun's neck. Unlike the last attempt, this one had taken into account of Restimar's left blind eye and flew with righteous purpose. Thankfully (for the faun meant no harm, no harm at all) Naerwen intercepted, grabbing Restimar's wrist before the knife left their hand.

"Hey!"

The blade sunk into the earth half a meter from the faun's hooves.

Restimar wrenched their arm free and loomed over the girl (which wasn't very intimidating considering they are only three inches taller than Naerwen, so they had to tiptoe) with a pout. "What are you doing? You want to--"

Voice drowning in curiosity, the lord looked at the faun. The sparse sunlight, scattered upon colliding with the treetops, bathed the faun in antiquity. At an angle, it made him look pleasant, meaning, to Restimar, the faun was quite breakable. It was because of this very observation that Restimar grew suspicious of him. After all, most of the "old" people in their life were very lethal.

But...

Restimar beamed. "Do you shave?"