Caspian’s voice was perhaps one of the few things he liked to show off when given the chance. He was musically gifted and felt no shame in belting out a tune every now and then. But tonight he was inclined not to. The fire place in front of his couch burned with a heat he drank in easily. Sweat pants hung on his hips as he walked back over to the couch and offered Riley a cup of hot chocolate. He decided to forgo the chai tonight, instead following his sister’s lead and taking to a hot cup of melted chocolate and milk.
To match the fire before them was a few candles lit along tables and ledges surrounding the comfy room. It always got dark early this time of year. The pair had been in a sleepy state of relaxation since the sun went to rest at 4pm this after noon. With pizza on the way, Caspian and Riley had opted for a no technology night. They did this once and awhile. Riley spent so much time working with it she often said she liked a break; and Caspian? Well, he was never all that into it in the first place. On these nights they spent hours talking. About religion and life. Politics and love. Stories that make you smile, stories that make you cry. Wishes, dreams, wonders of grandeur and everything in between.
Phones left on the kitchen island, Caspian decided to pick up his guitar on the other side of the living room. He sat himself down with legs crossed. Sitting on the floor with his back against the foot of the couch, he slowly plucked at the strings, letting the soothing noise bounce off the walls of the living room.
Outside, seen from the big back window of Caspian’s town home, there were fat flakes of falling snow gliding down through the air. Drifting slowly and uninterrupted by the wind. Slowly he rocks on his rump from side to side, music drowning out everything save the crackle of wood in the fire place. When Riley’s voice rose to meet the melody he tried not to act surprised. He continued playing, listening to her high and sweet voice echo off the walls of his home. He swayed and closed his eyes. In parts he could feel his throat tightening and eyes watering from the emotion heard in her voice. He forgets she can sing. So often he’s the one doing so that he doesn’t think of the talent contained in her small ribcage.
And slowly as her song comes to an end, Caspian’s fingers grow still against the strings. The guitar hums to itself while everything else goes quiet.
❝ I always forget you can sing. ❞ He says then, his voice a little hoarse from not having been used coupled with the dry heat of the fire place. Tongue licks at his lips as head lifts and golden eyes turn towards her. Hair tumbles into his face before fingers are able to tuck it back behind his ear. Leaning forward on his guitar the hollow body of makes a hollow creak. Fire’s light dances along his form, painting rich colours across dark skin and painting his already golden eyes with a vibrance that might be matched with the Gods’. His smile is soft and filled with fondness, as it always is. But he finds it’s these times of connection that he feels it more.
Never has his heart thought of her as more than simply someone to love in the most innocent of ways. But he does love her. He does think she’s beautiful. Especially when red fire plays against the strands of her red hair; her freckles like embers caught in the act of rising up in the steam. Graciousness and slow-burning passion tangle in her eyes. He wonders, as he looks at her, if phenixes are known to this kind.
"Pssst, Riley!" Big Riley has her hands behind her back, hiding a small red box. A smile lifts her cheeks and reaches to her eyes when she's sees the boy; it's been too long. Bending down to his level, she slowly pulls the box out from behind her back, holding it out with one hand while her other hand pushes a lock of red hair from her eyes. "This is for you. Happy Valentine's Day." Inside, Little Riley will find a couple of cherry lollipops and a little battery-powered car she made herself.
｡･:*:･ﾟ ♡ .｡･:*:･ﾟ ❤ How long had it been since he had seen the girl that he shared his own treasure with 「 his NAME was one of the only gifts from his Mommy he had left 」 ? Days ? Weeks ? Months ? He wasn't quite sure but ------ it was long enough. The little boy couldn't even begin to describe how happy he was to see his friend again ------- but just when he was about to hug her, he found himself staring at a rather strange box.
Another gift ? Well, he wouldn't have put it past the girl. He still had the colored pencils & the light ------- but he still found himself amazed. After all, bad children like him didn't deserve gifts ! He would have been stuck in his self-loathing as usual ------- but juvenile joy got the best of him & he found himself opening the box to reveal some cherry lollipops & a toy car ! FINALLY, he could give the girl a hug like he wanted to.
' Thank you, big Riley ! I like it a lot ! A whole lot ! '
Did the boy had anything to give back ? Well ------actually, he DID. The child had been holding onto a plush crafted in the visage of a rowdy fox ------- which was rather STRANGE considering he was usually seen holding a golden bear instead. He raises the toy up; clearly giving it to the other.
' Big Riley, I want you to meet Foxy ! He's a really cool pirate but ------- he's so cool, he's already sailed the seven seas a whole bunch of times ! '
' So he wants to have adventures with you now ! I hope you like him ! '
Here’s to the role-players who have crafted complex characters –– ones who do not yield to anything but their own spirit. These amazing mun’s and characters are so beautiful and do not get enough appreciation IMO. They are characters who have traits similar to Caspian; soft but with edges. There is a beautiful part of these character’s, who instinct is to defend first rather than attack.
I’m a sucker for these kinds of characters, but even more so I simply adore these muns. kind and helpful, I know that I fail you at times with how little we speak, but I want you to know how much I appreciate you and how much your muses mean to me! Keep making complex, kind, beautiful characters.
//three stars for the headcanon thing if you're still accepting :3c
— ❋ give a lil, get a lil.
i. Riley often feels like Caspian is disappointed in her, and that hurts her more than the idea of her grandparents being disappointed in her because he ACTUALLY cares about her well being. And whenever he does tell her that he's proud of her, she just kind of tears up and tries to play it off like it’s nothing because BUGGER OFF EMOTIONS.
ii. Riley has seen Caspian dance shamelessly to Bollywood music and they have totally spent whole evenings where Caspian teaches Riley how to dance in Bollywood style and it always ends with Caspian in stitches and Riley throwing pillows at him for teasing her so much about being such a ‘white girl’ dancer.
iii. Riley has picked up on the subtle cues Caspian has before he spirals into a panic attack. She recognizes the tense jaw, the distant eyes, and DEFINITELY the silence. Around her he’s usually pretty boisterous because he feels comfortable being that way. She notices the little things and at times she can even help talk him down from the edge before it gets too bad. Because they both suffer anxiety attacks, they both are VERY affective of helping the other one through it and over come it.
He could still remember the taste of vomit in his mouth when he got the call from her grandparents. Could still remember the feel of his wet hair against his neck, clinging to him as if it knew that he would break before he could catch his breath. He remembered the feeling of tight pressure in his chest, how the burn of tears and AGONY ripped through him like something out of a horror film. His hand gripped the phone in his hand and before he could even hang up he had dropped to his knees –– half dressed, his shoulders that were littered with scars bared to the afternoon sun that leaked through the windows of his bed room. He could smell the sickness in his clogged nose as he watched tear after tear fall to the hardwood before him, pooling into small misshapen circles. He remembered the sun burning his back, he remembered crying so loud, he remembered screaming. He remembered standing to his feet and driving his fist through the mirror hanging on the back of his door. How the blood mingled with the tears and the wood at his bare feet while the world broke around him.
He remembered it all but how long he had stood there. He remembered it so vividly that now as he stood in the reception area at her wake, a cup of tea in his gentle hands, he still felt the hardwood against his now bruised knees. Felt the shards of glass reflective glass stuck between knuckles. But all of that? It felt like nothing. Numb to the world for the only pain he felt anymore was the slow beating of his heart. It seemed to hiccup and sob where his own eyes could no longer force such an act. It was so fresh. He hadn’t had time to come to terms with the fact she was... No. No he couldn’t think on it.
❝ She was a good person. ❞ He heard a man come to stand at his side, the feeling of a friendly hand rubbing along Caspian’s back the only thing to bring him back to the moment rather than the time he had heard of her–– Don’t do this Caspian. Not here. Golden hues that had dimmed so much they appeared to be more brown than their glittering gold, found themselves fixated on the older gentleman who came to stand in front of Caspian now. The boys head was bowed, where the professor seemed dim and sorrow filled, it almost felt like he had gotten over it too quickly. It was one of her professors. He couldn’t remember his name but judging by the bald spot at the top of his head, he was probably the professor she used to call Einstein.
❝ She was the best person... Not just good but–– ❞ Caspian responded, his throat convulsing up and down as he lowered his gaze to the tea in his hand. It had gone cold, but his knuckles had been bandaged with white gauze, spots of dried blood easily seen through it now. He felt his gut twist at the sight of it, knowing what had caused it. Caspian’s jaw worked against itself, and the professor took a step forward, setting a hand on Caspian’s left shoulder –– his damaged one. He didn't even flinch. He didn’t even REACT. So lost in his grief that it would seem his mind and body didn't even have it in him to have a fricking PTSD attack. He missed her so fricking much. He hurt so badly that all the pain he had felt from his years in India didn’t even bother to show themselves!!!!
He wished they would. He knew how to cope with those memories. He knew how to cope with that pain. This? This he had nothing to give.
❝ Did you know her well? ❞ The professor asked, taking in the man’s weathered appearance. He hadn’t eaten for days, his appetite having be reduced to nothing. And sleep was out of the question. His normally rich skin had turned grey and dusty, his eyes muted, his lips flat. There was no more life in him than the corpse in the casket at the other end of the room. He couldn’t push himself to get any closer than this.
❝ Too well... ❞ Caspian confessed, voice hollow as the man began to rub the young man’s bicep. ❝ She’s my... My sister. ❞ He spoke, and then just like he was brought back to the CRASHING of knees against hard wood. The sound of his cellphone shattering against it and sliding under his bed. The loud noise that rang in his ears –– too numb to realize it had been him. He was the one screaming. But this time he only hung his head, lips curling into a snarling sob as his whole body hiccuped with the attempt to stifle it. It didn't work. And he leaned forward against the man’s hand, tears dropping one by one to the hard wood floor between his finely polished dress shoes. Heads turned towards him but he paid no heed, his fathers who had gone to get themselves more tea soon heard the choked sobs of their son and abandoned their conversation, Mavahir reaching him first.
Strong arms coiled around his son as Caspian bowed his head, forehead leaning against his father’s firm shoulder, like a child curled up in his fathers arms. His hand began to slip away from the tea cup, spilling some to the floor before the professor grabbed it from his hands with ease. Caspian didn't even try to hold onto the cup as it was taken from him. His father’s hands on his back, the other against the back of his head to hold him ever closer. Small whispers of Hindi being spoken to try and calm him –– but Mavahir? He did not tell him to stop. He did not tell him it was alright. None of this was.
He didn’t remember how long he had been cradled by his father. He didn’t even remember leaving the wake. And he certainly remembered nothing of the service that was held for her. He remembered watching the red-wood casket be lowered into the ground. He remembered the sky dark and grey –– no rain had fallen. And Caspian cried no more. His heart was ripped open as he watched as each pile of dirt was laid on top of her coffin with a thump thump thump. The pattern as slow and rhythmic as his heart. And when the dirt ceased to be laid, he swore his heart did too. He didn’t remember how long he stood there, staring at the grave stone with her name. He didn’t remember... HE DIDN’T WANT TO REMEMBER.
❝ Daddy? ❞ The small voice asked, her hand in his as they pair walked up a steep hill. It was the middle of October. His birthday was soon, and as was Diwali –– his favourite holiday. The air chilled his hands, having not bothered to bring gloves despite the wind tugging at his scarf.
❝ Hm? ❞ Was Caspian’s only response to his daughter, looking down towards her as she wore a puffy pink tutu, her hair pulled back into a very big bun –– that insane curl untameable. It was a miracle it had managed to stay in that scrunchie. Her small white shoes had already been muddied from the soft and damp earth below their feet, Caspian's own dress shoes in no better state.
❝ Why are we here? I thought you said we were going to see my Auntie? ❞ She asked. The adoption had been finalized last year, and until now Caspian had not felt himself prepared to bring her. Now he felt ready. Not because he had gotten over it, not because he wanted her to see him cry. But because he wanted to remember his Sister. Because he wanted his child to meet her, and for his sister to meet the child he had taken in.
Caspian bent down then, a somber smile on his lips as he scooped his daughter up in his arms. Cradling her small rump in his elbow. He made a small sigh of effort as he bounced her in his arms and continued to climb the hill. On the inside of his wrist lied a tattoo, the inscription Hindi which he had gotten a year after he remembered crashing to the floor in his bedroom. His daughter furrowed her brows at him, looking at how seemingly peaceful he looked. His lips were gently curled into a simple smile, his eyes a touch distant but not anything more than the girl had see in him after his meditation.
❝ We are. ❞
❝ We are? ❞ The little girl asked, frowning a little and looking at her father in almost mild irritation. ❝ Is she dead? ❞ The child he had taken in was not used to things such as beating around the bush. Much like her father, she had seen death in the ugliest sense. Had seen blood and gore and awfulness –– death was a fact to her. Much like it had been a fact to Caspian until he learned the fact that his sister was gone. FACT. Perhaps it was when you looked through the paper work and documentation. Fact stated that Riley Dare had died on April 5th, 2013. Fact stated that she left behind two grandparents. Fact stated that she was buried here, and that her heart stopped beating the moment she was struck by the transport struck.
❝ No, No, you’re Auntie is very much alive. ❞ He explained, stopping just before the grave stone. It was weathered, but looked newer than the others beside it. It had a small crack in it that Caspian had on multiple occasions requested they fix. Each time it went ignored and so he simply accepted it now. He set his daughter down, the confusion in her eyes having grown stronger as Caspian brushed away the leaves to reveal Riley Dare’s grave stone. The dates she was alive for carved out expertly. It had only been 4 years, and here Caspian knelt, his knee cushioned by the grass that was wet with dew as his daughter waggled her way over to stand beside him.
❝ How? ❞
❝ Because we REMEMBER her... ❞ Caspian explained, smiling as he reached out and picked his daughter up, setting her on his knee as he looked at the grave stone then. ❝ This is your Auntie Riley... She was my best friend, my sister, and I loved her very much. She loved to build things... Robots. She used to braid my hair... Like how I braid yours. ❞ He began, glancing over at his daughter and running his thumb along her cheek. He inhaled deeply, those golden hues starting to shimmer with the threat of tears. His breath came out shakily, his lip trembling as he took a moment to gather himself.
❝ She would have loved you... As much as I do. ❞ He wobbled out, his daughter turning her head to look at him with concern. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held him tight, squeezing him as much as she could. The little girl didn’t cry, but Caspian's eyes began to spill over with small droplets. His eyes fixated on Riley’s name. Stared at the dates with hate and venom.
Caspian nodded after taking another few short breaths in and out. Calming himself as he forced his eyes closed –– too upset still to be able to look at her stone. His daughter shifted in his hold, pulling away and smiling at her father as she wiped those salty trails from his dusty copper cheeks. And then she wiggled from his knee, her small shoes padding over to the tomb stone as she stared at it for a long moment. Her small head tilted as she read the name, processing it before she took another step forward. She bent at the waist and wrapped her tiny arms around the cold stone. Squeezing it tightly. Caspian felt his heart STOP, and just like that he breathed out deeply, eyes closing slowly once again as he tipped his chin downwards.
❝ Hi Auntie Riley. ❞ The small voice said, chuckling softly. Caspian drew his head up, eyes lifting to the sky as he licked his lower lip, his whole body trembling with awe and love for that little girl. Somehow she knew what he wanted to do... Somehow she knew just what Riley would have wanted. ❝ I don’t know you but I love you. And my daddy loves you too but–– you already know that. ❞ She giggled softly before she pulled away from the grave, taking a step back before she turned to her father. He smiled at her, tears still welling up in his eyes as he nodded at his daughter, his pride swelling his chest. She ran to him then, wrapping her arms around her fathers neck while he scooped her up and squeezed her tightly. He peppered her cheek with kisses, inspiring a few giggles from the child before he stood with her, smiling with absolute love at his child.
Fact stated that Riley Dare had died on April 5th, 2013. Fact stated that she left behind two grandparents. Fact stated that she was buried here, and that her heart stopped beating the moment she was struck by the transport struck. But they were wrong.
Riley Dare lived through the heart of those who loved her. She touched her family and friends every single day –– every time a breakthrough in robotics was honoured, every time a red head smiled at those that loved her. She left behind two grandparents and a brother, who’s grief had been so grand that he had was unaware if he would survive. If he would ever have it in his heart to love another. A brother who had brought his child to meet her Auntie because her heart NEVER stopped beating. Her love had never died. Caspian could feel her love every time he glanced down at the inscription on his wrist. He could feel it when he watched Disney movies with his daughter. He could feel it when he laid in bed some nights, simply thinking of her laugh and smile.
He may not remember everything about her death. He may not remember the funeral or the wake beyond small snippets. But her life? He remembered that in full. He would play it back to himself time after time. And he would cry with the joy of knowing that she would never die so long as he held her in his heart –– just like he ALWAYS had.
