—
They might have made good friends, if years and circumstances hadn’t separated them. On the other hand, Marisol was grounded and described by duty and law, and Caspian’s obligations are only to himself. Still, he appreciates her smile - or is pretty sure he does, anyway; there’s something a little keen in it.
If she would have asked that question she ponders, he might have told her a few different things.
My friend is down there, hanging from his feet, snoozing the last of winter away.
Friends aren’t too useful; they never make you any money.
All my friends are circumstantial.
It isn’t that he doesn’t have any; it’s that the bulk of them are cousins, or fellow jobless roustabouts, the half-wild youth of the meadows and woods instead of the city. They are his friends because they move in the same circles, nothing much more binding than that. Only Benvolio really knows him. But that’s alright; Caspian likes being unknown - especially to his queen.
And, for today at least (and each day after, he fervently hopes) it seems it will remain that way. His half-smile broadens at her response, though he does not reply that he doesn’t need luck, not for this task at least.
“Fair winds and warm fires,” he says by way of goodbye, and watches for a moment as the pair disappear back into the whispering grass. “See ya, Marisol,” he says, just to himself and the wildflowers, and then he turns and begins to pick his way down to the cave.
@Marisol
If she would have asked that question she ponders, he might have told her a few different things.
My friend is down there, hanging from his feet, snoozing the last of winter away.
Friends aren’t too useful; they never make you any money.
All my friends are circumstantial.
It isn’t that he doesn’t have any; it’s that the bulk of them are cousins, or fellow jobless roustabouts, the half-wild youth of the meadows and woods instead of the city. They are his friends because they move in the same circles, nothing much more binding than that. Only Benvolio really knows him. But that’s alright; Caspian likes being unknown - especially to his queen.
And, for today at least (and each day after, he fervently hopes) it seems it will remain that way. His half-smile broadens at her response, though he does not reply that he doesn’t need luck, not for this task at least.
“Fair winds and warm fires,” he says by way of goodbye, and watches for a moment as the pair disappear back into the whispering grass. “See ya, Marisol,” he says, just to himself and the wildflowers, and then he turns and begins to pick his way down to the cave.
@
