View Flat HTML
View Metadata
Search Post
When the party has died down, Isabella, for one, is well and truly exhausted. She explores the palace until she finds a room with a bed in it, and into this bed she flops, still in her clothes and holding her staff and carrying the cordial in her pocket. She sleeps late, because the party kept her up so late and she hadn't really slept the night before; but around noon, she stirs, and gets up, and goes looking for James and wherever her backpack may have got to. The backpack she finds in the great hall where the principal mass of the party was; some enterprising creature took both bags from the battlefield at Beruna up to the castle for them, and she only wishes she knew who it was. She takes her bag to her room and carries James's with her and continues looking for her friend.
He thinks about it for a few seconds, and then says very abruptly and emphatically—almost as though afraid— "No."
And her ring. Which might actually lead her out of here but only if Winter didn't stab her for trying.
Hugs, Jamie.
Okay, so James knows she's alive. The hugs are not very high bandwidth but they are nice. It's cold in here.
"I - I can't - I don't know if I can bear to kill you but I know I can't bear to live," he whispers. "It hurts too much."
"James could figure you out," murmurs Isabella. "If there's anything you could live with she could find it. But if you do kill me, she will know that you did it to get her to kill you. And you will have forfeited any remaining claim on her efforts if it's safer or easier to throw you in the dungeon."
...Try to sneak or don't try to sneak? Ring, which way is Jamie?
The ring tentatively points just to one side of the sound of Winter's crying, which is getting louder with time.
So she'd have to go around him. And might step on him or something, which is a guaranteed disaster however loud he's being. Can the ring do a detour...? She rubs the knotwork under her thumb. Do you have another idea, ring?
Apparently the current best route is definitely right past Winter, and it is not a very good route at that. The ring seems almost apologetic.
It is not a very good route. Damn it, Winter, why can't your emotional incontinence lead to tactical incompetence? She shifts her weight, sends another ring-hug.
"She can find me. She will. You'll probably like the results better if I've had some cordial when she gets here."
"Aslan's creature," he snarls. "Still knows how to threaten. Much good may it do you. Shall I sprout wings and fly you to Cair Paravel next?"
"I don't know, maybe if you stabbed yourself in the shoulders enough you could make ice wings, I don't know what you are."
"Cursed!" he spits. "Damned! To live forever in unbearable suffering! I cannot, I cannot!" And he breaks down crying again.
She hasn't tried to walk without her scepter in a very long time. Slowly, she stands up. She puts her hood up all the way over her face (no light to even worry about blocking), winces silently at the frozen spot on her hand that she accidentally aggravates moving her hand. Draws her cloak completely around herself.
Follows the ring. Tiptoe by soft careful tiptoe.
As soon as she touches him, he lets out an agonized wail and cringes away.
She flinches back, trips. How narrow is this tunnel? She tries to find the wall.
Winter's crying may be winding down, or just experiencing a temporary lull.