#inflammableprince

[nrpgossip-blog]

Lucy and Rabadash are together?

Sweet love blossoming? And--Lasaraleen with Edmund? Half-of-Rabashmund, careful. That woman is MARRIED. Tomeofcourse. Wait. Did I say that out loud.

[aravis-tarkheena-archive]

Mazin. ((Totally not sorry.))

He stitched the words into the insides of his eyelids, where they would serve as constant reminders, shunning him from the luxury to surrender under the everlasting draperies of Zardeenah, jostling him instead to rise and make himself known to the world. He was always walking, that man who grew too quickly.

She wasn’t certain when it began, when his eyes spilled all banters and torments, when his hands cleansed themselves of pinching cheeks and forging forts from blankets. He was a lord’s son, destined to live with land stretching like the ocean beneath him and gold to dance like the air, filling his lungs with mirth and his stomach with satisfaction. But upon closing her eyes, she at least knew, with pride welling inside her, that such petty things would never abrade the words her brother carried.

From where he walked, he left pieces of himself. They were words bearing neither scent nor echo, but he carved them using fingers of feathers inundated with his soul. Upon his back, rigid as it may be, was the Great Desert veiling vengeance and serenity inside its sand dunes. They were the deepest of red, abundant in weight though they were but gossamer filling the crevices and trenches etched in that broad back. Upon closer examination, he carried the world. Clouds clung from his dark tresses, trees found solace in his breath. Why this instead of home? He only had to close his eyes for fortitude.

Crossing her arms, closing her eyes, she realized she was wrong. He was once her world, but he grew. And so did she.

[inflammableprince-blog]

Headcanons #6-7

Rabadash likes persimmons.

Rabadash has terrible handwriting due to his lack of patience for forming elegant letters and his failure to pay attention to anything his tutors say apart from talk of wars, strategies to conquer Narnia, and how wonderfully brilliant he is. Thus, Rabadash often dictates, though if a matter requires strict confidentiality (like, perhaps, the subject of coups and assassinations) he will apply more than the usual effort to writing the note. One can always tell if a letter is genuinely from the crown prince as a result of the unmistakable, unreadable scrawl.

[theherowhosgoingtosavearend-blog]

-looks vaguely green- This is why I hate sailing.

*raises an eyebrow* Do you need a bucket?

[inflammableprince-blog]

Headcanons #4-5

Rabadash, being a prince, naturally owns many horses. He often chooses his mounts for their appearances, not temperaments, and he is quick to use the whip and spur. If they have names, he does not remember them. If they aggravate him enough, he has them put to death. He does not hold any animal in reverence, believing them all inferior to humans, and most humans are, of course, inferior to him.

Rabadash keeps up with fashion and trends, but he does not obsess over them. More often than not, he relies on servants to pick out his outfits and threatens them with boiling if they commit a fashion faux pas. His appearance is always imperatively groomed and not unreasonably ostentations. He is a fan of rings, which draw attention to his hands. He can’t grow a beard does not like facial hair.

[nrpgossip-blog]

Are we ruling out a Rabashmund broship between Rabadash and Edmund?

Why would we do such a thing? Love, that ship has a loooooooong voyage yet. Storm included. My favorite.

[nrpgossip-blog]

Some call me a gossip but I have a tidbit that is a tad overly juicy. Okay, so I hear that this Rab- rab something or other has a wicked temper and I think he loves donkeys. Or was it that he was one once. Anyways I hear that at night if you hear the phantom clomping of hooves it's rabadash trying to obtain his revenge. Anyways.

I’m loving this. 

Oh, Rab-Rab, honey. From Queen Susan to donkeys. Honey.

[inflammableprince-blog]

Headcanons #1-3

Rabadash takes on different guises to suit his mood and personal benefit. In the palace he is a spoiled child, but to his father’s face he is obedient, if “slightly” rash. To his siblings he can act anywhere from beneficent to insulting. In public, Rabadash often behaves cordially and smooth-tongued when it suits his desires or ambitions. For the sake of his precarious standing as crown prince and the long line of brothers itching to take his place, he attempts to keep diplomacy in mind when dealing with particular Pevensies rulers.

Rabadash does not believe in the genuine existence of gods. His mind can only grasp worldly pleasure and the exhilaration of power. Nevertheless, to preserve his image (as well as to use the gods to his own advantage) he flaunts his supposed lineage from Tash. He also gives credence to his impulsive and unreasonable demands by declaring that they are the will of Tash.

Rabadash made a deal with Neylan, an ifrit, to permanently remove the curse from Aslan that restricts his movements to Tashbaan. The payment is the Tisroc’s life, but Neylan put his death on hold and requires Rabadash to pay the “deficit.” However many years the Tisroc ends up living, Rabadash must lose that many years off his own life. The mark of their deal is a circular burn scar on Rabadash’s right palm.