(Untitled)

[the_seafarer]

I have been studying how I may compare
This prison where I live unto the world

Deposed kings, murdered fathers, usurpers. This particular history, Caspian is finding, strikes rather close to home at times, and so Richard II is closed and put aside, for now, in favor of tea.

After all, tea heals the soul, doesn't it?

Comments

[maydaybrat]

"It's either tea or coffee," comments a soft, British drawl.

[the_seafarer]

"I don't care much for coffee," Caspian replies, "though some of the Calormene imports weren't half bad. Besides, Bar really only gives me tea, these days. I don't even have to ask anymore."

[maydaybrat]

"She gives me water, on default. I think it's a hint of some description."

[the_seafarer]

"A description of what?"

[prydeful]

You know what, no, there cannot be 19 comments on this entry.

So there's Kitty.

Not with tea.

With Coffee.

Bean of her existence.

[the_seafarer]

But! 19! And it is (er, was) the 19th!

....

Fine.

Caspian looks up.

"...er. Hello?"

[prydeful]

NO.

NO NINETEEN.

"Hi. Sorry. I'm hiding from my dragon. I don't think he'll look over here. He had a bad experience under this table once."

It makes perfect sense.

[the_seafarer]

Caspian blinks.

"...dragon?"

He considers this.

"He fits under a table?"