like a light lit upon a beach // wear your heart on your sleevetreadingdawnJune 7 2009, 05:38:14 UTC
Well he is only so lucky the Pevensie household never has and never will own that thing called a television. It's bad enough to have to learn out of necessity the ways of that network thing, who would ever want to introduce moving pictures? Really, Chase should be thankful. House on the other hand...the potential world shattering is almost worth it. Almost.
Anyway, there is one advantage to being too dark and that's not having to slather on the funny sun lotion stuff, although Caspian still knows nothing of that too.
"Hello," he calls out to Chase as he stands, "doctor." Doctor Chase sounds a bit formal for this setting, but Robert sounds near personal. They do call teachers doctors too, so he defaults to this until told otherwise.
While he doesn't jog to meet Chase halfway he does take an easy stride when approaching the older...shorter man. Not that the Telmarine takes any delight in this. Honestly. "Is it? I think it's the same as a good morning to cast off," he adds, hoping that's the right term he remembers from his deckhand days. He notices the way he drops his gaze too but isn't sure as to why. Chase should be so grateful for this.
like a light lit upon a beach // wear your heart on your sleeveworksmartJune 7 2009, 06:19:59 UTC
Darker skin doesn't absolve Caspian of susceptibility to cancer-causing UV rays. Sun lotion use is near enough religious in Australia, and despite his relatively pasty New Jersey complexion, Chase hasn't kicked the habit. It's okay, all part of the lesson. Aware enough by now that his pupil for the day redefines the word rookie, the doctor has come prepared to a boy-scout degree.
He's pulled up short by Caspian's greeting, shooting him a quizzical look from behind windswept blonde hair as he stakes the board into the sand. "Robert." Would be the correct means of address, although he can count on one hand the number of people who use it. Introductions are turning out to be a weird affair here - he had to convince one little girl that Doctor wasn't his first name, and he could use not having to run through his reasons again.
"Or Chase. Up to you, but you don't need to call me doctor unless you're asking me to check out a rash." Just Chase is fine. He's resigned enough to his given name being an event for special occasions.
Much like being resigned to speaking upwards to people. Caspian almost matches House in height, and there's some satisfaction to that at least. Next step, getting them both in the same room. Swinging the bag over his head, Chase looks out across the water, shrugging one shoulder. "Probably depends on your boat." Yes he has been yachting, shut up. "The swell's not going to toss us around like a bad tempered bull, which is the main thing."
And a once over of Caspian's beach apparel raises another pertinent question. "Okay. Got any shorts under those shorts?"
like a light lit upon a beach // wear your heart on your sleevetreadingdawnJune 7 2009, 06:42:06 UTC
No, please, and thank you. The last thing anyone wants is House asking Caspian to vacuum the floor then the latter asking anyone but House what that means. The spiral would gain momentum and move only downward. But being tall is very nice on its own.
"I like the sound of Chase," he nods. Although Caspian seems out of his element in this world there are a few things that remain universal, speech and gesture being two. Simply put, the way he says one name sounds more casual than the other, as if Robert is reserved for a group that fits on one hand and Chase for the other. He isn't the type of person to presume the hows or whys, being a man of only one name and one number; the tenth of the former.
Now, his brown gaze settles on the board staked in the sand. It's a little different from what he expected and even then Caspian can't really explain what he expected at all. Going into these things blindly has its advantages and disadvantages. Already he is trying to imagine how one uses that board based on contour, fascinating stuff, but the more he imagines what might be done the farther he gets from focus and just soaking up what he's told. Case in point, he glances to Chase a second after he mentions boats...and swells...and bulls. Well, the important thing is...
"You do sail," he grins. His own idea of a boat isn't fit for a massive armada either, so don't be embarrassed or anything.
like a light lit upon a beach // wear your heart on your sleeveworksmartJune 7 2009, 07:14:39 UTC
"I've sailed," he corrects, concentrating on unzipping his bag and digging a hand around inside. "I don't sail. Two weeks in the Cyclades with three crew and a gourmet chef don't make anyone a captain. Lets see.."
First produced is a sleeveless shirt of black rubber, a compatriot of which might just be visible behind the loose buttons at Chase's collar. He hands it over with an explanation ready prepared. "You can't wear your regular gear in the water, they'll weigh you down. This is a rash guard - goes over your chest to stop the board chafing when you're lying on it. Should fit you. I've got some board shorts to go over the ones underneath, too."
...Chase doesn't go bowling without specialist attire, it's no surprise that it's taken him a while to feel fully set up for hitting the waves. He tosses the shorts across too, working on shedding his own shirt without further ceremony. Besides, he's caught Caspian looking at his board. He's quite proud of the find; it's in good condition, plain blue and white with none of the poncy hawaiian florals people seem so keen on now. "She's going to be a beauty to learn on, don't worry about it."
like a light lit upon a beach // wear your heart on your sleevetreadingdawnJune 7 2009, 08:43:53 UTC
"You don't have to be a captain to say you sail. Being a captain would make you a better sailor than most is all," he counters casually, keeping his correction in mind.
Two weeks in...wherever that is with a semblance of a crew is more than what many others do, he thinks. It doesn't sound much like making repairs on a galleon but it is something. Idly he also thinks it's a shame the captain left before they could take his ship farther out to sea. Caspian has always wondered about the horizon in this world, but small steps first and all that. It's enough to think he might even be able to guide himself across the white crest on a plank. Er, surfboard. No he'll never tell Chase he thinks of the blue and white board as a blue and white plank because he knows that has to be wrong but until he's educated.... Well. At least it looks like the finest blue and white plank this side of the City. Hibiscus flowers will never come into the equation.
"Ah," I see, though he really doesn't. Caspian takes this piece, glad that he's long passed the days of considering a tunic and jerkin casual daily wear. Okay he still considers those casual daily wear but he has learned when and what to wear that's appropriate in this place (without looking like an escapee from a fair). It's only expected of royalty to have that knowledge as second nature. He also commits the purpose of the guard to memory which is much easier to do when he thinks of it in terms of armor so to speak. How fortunate he is that Chase hasn't brought special gloves along.
Caspian catches the shorts too and for the briefest moment his face expresses some mild confusion over the difference between those shorts and these shorts. Synthetic fibers aren't something they teach you in Narnia textiles. He trusts the Australian though so after just another flicker of skepticism he strips out of his shorts first because he actually knows how to put them on, then his shirt second because it takes him another few seconds to decide which is the front and which is the back of this one. His guess turns out to be good but that victory doesn't last long because what he realizes next is how snug the rash guard feels. At least comfortably so.
"I'm not so worried," not much, "have you been doing this for a very long time," asks the Telmarine, fairly certain the answer he'll receive is a yes accompanied by a brief history of how long long is. Anyone who prepares this thoroughly for a sport so shortly after finding himself in a strange new world must really really love that sport. And it would be nice to hear a story.
They may share a face but everything else about Robert Chase is unique to him and only him, the same way everything else about Peter Pevensie is unique to him and him alone. There's no guilt or shame in noting they share the same svelte figure regardless of height...although Caspian should really chastise himself for finding the same brand of pasty paleness laughable. Fortunately he doesn't even snicker.
like a light lit upon a beach // wear your heart on your sleeveworksmartJune 8 2009, 06:03:10 UTC
There's always some kind of barrier between Chase and being as free as he'd like to be. Even when it comes to something as simple as chucking himself at the water on a plank - no, never tell him - he's dealing with an imperative to do it right. To do not just his personal best, but better than the often unsuspecting competition. If the right apparatus helps him raise his game, it's a fair bet he'll want to be equipped.
The reliance might be something he picked it up learning the basics of intensive care. A thousand different props: respirators, filtration systems, defibrillators, dialysis machines, IVs, pumps, drains and catheters all playing their part, used correctly, in keeping a patient alive. It's knowing how to use each implement and aid, and when that make the difference. Precision, down to the last millimetre of wire threaded through the hip into the heart, or the perfect placing of the needle that draws air back into shattered lungs. Neither man nor machine does the job well enough alone. The importance of not screwing up never hit home harder than in that environment, although the truth of it has been drummed in from a far younger age. Along with the knowledge, if not quite acceptance, that life was a bitch and not screwing up didn't always equate to being worthy of praise.
He hates learning, but it's one of those necessary steps before you can move on to achieving. Playing the teacher has it's own complications, but this is one arena he feels fairly qualified to school in.
"Long enough." Mary Poppins would be proud of a bag like this. Chase has not one but two kinds of sunscreen, the first a clear gel application he warms between his palms before smoothing it in wide strokes over the areas the rash guard won't cover. It might keep him pasty, Caspian, it keeps him healthy, too. "I only got serious about it in med school - when I was learning to be a doctor. You spend all day over a microscope waiting for a cell sample to turn the colour you want it to, there's no better way to unwind."
The first bottle gets passed across. The second paints a pale stripe across Chase's nose. "Get your earlobes and eyelids. Most common places to pick up a melanoma, because nobody remembers to cover them."
like a light lit upon a beach // wear your heart on your sleevetreadingdawnJune 8 2009, 06:50:36 UTC
For all of that Caspian would almost paint Robert Chase as ambitious, but he's no mind reader and they haven't known each other long enough to learn these things about each other. Maybe his intuition could tell him but not yet at this point. It's an unfair advantage, one might say, that Chase has a history with Caspian in a most unexpected way, but stories change over time. Heroes become older, taller, and darker than once imagined. Perhaps it's no advantage at all.
As for sunscreen...well. The Telmarine tilts his head at the bottle, clear like an oil but with the consistency of a lotion. He'd never used anything like it on the ship but that could explain why he'd always come home from a day on the deck a little darkened and dry. Not like a shower couldn't help fix that but as with the clothing he trusts Chase with these items too. Caspian is still listening to him as he turns the first bottle around in his hands. Rub the stuff on the areas not covered by his clothes, got it. He uncaps the gel and applies a small amount to his fingertips first, just to feel how viscous it is. It's also slightly cold but that's a minor obstacle. As for being healthy, you can't get any healthier than a seventeen year old conditioned by the military...for a Prince's standard. What it took to become King is a whole 'nother story and not something considered part of the daily regimen. Nevertheless, he does copy those strokes over bare skin.
"It is a difficult study, isn't it? Discipline counts for much if you are to be serious about anything," in the hospital or the waves, his tone implies. "But it's even better when you can apply it to things you enjoy, things that may not relate."
The aching wait over a microscope is lost on Caspian but he can understand wanting to do something completely outside the realm of your work, outside of your role and what's expected of you day in, day out. He smiles to the doctor but the stripes, ah...they get a funny look from the young king.
"I may pick up what in the sea," he asks, almost convinced this is the same thing as drop bears and punching sharks; questionable tall tales.
like a light lit upon a beach // wear your heart on your sleeveworksmartJune 8 2009, 23:56:04 UTC
In his earliest meetings with them, all four Pevensies and their friends had Czech accents and managed to progress only a few pages through their adventures each night before the lights were put out. Stories do change and, truthfully, what Chase remembers of Caspian and those books isn't detail but sentiment. Perhaps it isn't so surprising, if the fears he has about the nature of his 'visit' to this city are well founded, to still be finding some kind of comfort in bedtime tales.
Perhaps Caspian's just a strange kid who hasn't fooled Chase into mistaking inexperience for immaturity. Measuring himself aged sixteen against some of the (vastly overrepresented) teenagers in this place leaves him feeling sorely wanting, and still distantly questioning whether at that age he might have coped better. It is, after all, only a little too old to still believe in stories; an in between state when fairytales are dismissed but hopes remain high and fanciful. Kids can adapt to anything - Chase sees it at work all the time both in the sad stories and the happy endings. He should be too old now. His day to day sees him grasping for the reasons that underlie insanity. It's not an obsession, but he sees how easily obsession might creep in, somewhere in the cracks between madness and order.
"It's difficult for some people. If it was too easy everyone would be doing it." There are so many aspects of medicine that leave people by the wayside. Different varieties of difficult, from academia to hours to blood, guts and bodily fluids. Two out of three isn't bad, but it takes a perfect match to make a good doctor. Other aspects, personal skills and patient care, can be ignored or avoided in special cases. Where special can be taken to mean 'grumpy, gimpy bastard'.
"It's a long study, mainly, and you can't afford to be half arsed about it. Not so much trial and error involved as other things worth learning. Surfing, for one." He hoicks the board out of place to illustrate his point, nodding to Caspian to follow down the the breakers.
And what is that question? Chase backtracks over what he's said to try and clarify whatever Caspian's miscomprehension is this time. "A... melanoma? No, no, not in the sea, from the sun. That's what you put the lotion on for; when the sun's this bright it can burn your skin and make you sick. You've seen someone with sunburn before?"
like a light lit upon a beach // wear your heart on your sleevetreadingdawnJune 9 2009, 01:54:19 UTC
Vastly overrepresented, as is the proportion of beautiful people, not that either Chase or Caspian are to blame for this strange phenomenon. House himself has probably made a remark or two about it before but what else can anyone expect from a man in the aesthetic minority? Ahem.
As for stories...Caspian met the ones he knows best long ago after the sound of a horn. In this world he's come to know other people from tales too, tales the Pevensies have heard, Arthurian and Fable alike. It's different to meet them this way--or maybe it's to Caspian's advantage--but time and time again he learns who they are as people means more to him than whatever legends they've forged, whatever allegories they may represent, though this isn't to dismiss history either. Possibly that's no different from harboring a sentiment over a memory of details. He can't remember in full lush detail, word for word the stories either his nurse or his professor told him of a hundred year winter and sacrifice, a citadel by the sea and allies to the wooded south before a stretch of desert sand, or a horse who grew wings, but Caspian remembers wondering and wanting.
Unfortunately being from tale or not doesn't minimize the susceptibility of this...melanoma. He finds it queer but does acknowledge sun damage. Maybe it's Chase's world's way of saying 'sunburn' because he has seen this before on the one who has grown up to resemble the Australian. The memory of a little tenderness makes him snicker, nevermind sympathy for a friend's pain.
"I have," and the younger man does know a thing or two about passing out from too much heat. Er, not personally though. He strokes the lighter application on the proper features, quite sure that he looks as silly in surf paint as he thinks he does. His moments of miscomprehension may be many but once Caspian learns something he doesn't forget it. This will come in handy if he decides to continue learning how to ride the waves, which he does. Yes, before he's even hit the surf he's already decided.
"Peter may be studying medicine," Caspian nods before trotting after Chase. "I am steeped in politics, when I am not here," he amends, "but on the side I have learned to play woodwinds and strings."
For the record he is well aware that musical prowess a good background for surfing or sailing does not make, but the discipline to continue learning to the point of intermediate or even advanced accomplishment count for something. Right?
like a light lit upon a beach // wear your heart on your sleeveworksmartJune 9 2009, 03:10:28 UTC
Beautiful is a highly relative term, and even societies in which aesthetics tend toward the pleasing side more often than not - Chase would give Sweden as an example - have their own hierarchies and tastes. Simply put, it's about more than the outward appearance, although Chase will never argue that the luck of a pretty face and work put into a good figure go a long way (nor will he deny that if he'd been at school with cheerleaders like the ones in this city, he might never have made it to the Seminary). Even beautiful people don't always choose to mate in kind, and he can think of one close to home case study who would both illustrate the point and give House something to be smug about should his minority status ever be explicitly made clear.
With Caspian daubed in surfer's camouflage, Chase kneels with the board where the water just licks the shore, smoothing the sand off the narrower end with the care of a swordsman tending his blade. He's already seen to the waxing and conditioning needed, something he can show Caspian if the young king ever has the whim for a board of his own.
"I think his sister told me," he looks up from the sand to nod at Caspian's words, "The medicine I do has changed a lot from his time. It was a big period of development, after the war. Always is." Necessity as mother of invention, or however the saying went. And yes, Chase also knew the ending of those books, but telling Caspian that his mate may as well not bother with the study would be a fine way to bugger up a morning. One tip out of Cameron's book: never deliver bad news before you have to.
He tilts his head at the rest, news to him. "What sort of woodwind and strings?" He can't remember if Narnia conforms to the fantasy convention of giving everyday items outlandish names to make them sound more impressive in the setting. Fantasy writers and pharmaceutical branding officials : sadists, both.
like a light lit upon a beach // wear your heart on your sleevetreadingdawnJune 9 2009, 03:35:12 UTC
He watches with his full attention on what Chase is doing, smoothing sand away like the board itself is a sidearm. Whether Caspian wants a board of his own or not really depends on how well he fares his first few times on the blue and white one. And to be completely honest, perhaps to his teacher's chagrin, any board he does get would probably come with something fancier on the surface. Scroll work, a compass rose, maybe flowers. Maybe.
"That's right, you know Lucy don't you." He remembers them talking to each other too, as a child and otherwise. Both times friendly and he doesn't doubt that the Valiant also sees not just the similarity in face but the parallel of practice too. At least, what Peter intends to practice. One tip out of Cameron's book is the best to keep in mind around them. "Eden says the same thing. She works under..." That guy. The sour one. "Doctor House," Caspian manages to say without distaste. It isn't that he hates the old man but, well, he does tend to refer to the Telmarine by anything other than you know, his actual name. Fff.
Because he's still paying attention while not exactly sure where to begin with this lesson, Caspian also kneels in the sand. If asked why he will of course say he's only trying to get a better look at what Chase is doing.
"I started with a recorder and a theorbo but I can play the flute and guitar too. I am practiced in blowing or plucking," says the man bred for some recognition of well rounded royal character. After the night his cousin was born he's come to believe he was made to study many things just to keep busy. Out of his uncle's way.
like a light lit upon a beach // wear your heart on your sleeveworksmartJune 9 2009, 05:35:53 UTC
Well, Caspian's a king now. Chase on the other hand has never quite lived up to being the golden boy nurture and nepotism intended. Kings might be more able to carry off the decorative look. Maybe.
(And if perhaps Chase's learner board had been an altogether more intricate affair, reeking of an overeagerness to impress, that truth has no relation to his tastes as they stand. Nor, moreover, would his having been laughed out of the water for it. He's not still doing his best to emulate the people he looked up to back when he was a rookie, still spending more time inhaling water under the waves than riding them. That would be absurd.)
"Doctor House is my boss, too," his attention is back on the board for a moment, having already taken in and assessed that pause. Maybe it's an assumption, but the chances are high it's a fair one to take, "You can slag him off if you like, everyone does."
Chase's own musical endeavors were more what the school expected of him than an exercise in shutting him up. Practice kept him quiet only in the sense that the music room was in the farthest reaches of the house, and spending an hour a night strangling a cat in there was marginally less painful on the other inhabitants than it might have been had he practiced anywhere else. He'd grown good at it, he's always had a certain grace with his hands, though put a bow in his hands now and he'll probably be right back to torturing felines.
To the lesson? Chase shifts on his heels, lining up with the narrowed end of the board. "Right, before you can surf the waves, you've got to get out to them and you've got to be able to stand up. I'll show you, and you can copy, right?"
As he lays down there's an explanation of paddling, keeping your arms close to the board, and how to dive under the smaller waves as you hit them on your way out. The perfect back arch to keep the board straight, and the final push from knees to feet that leaves Chase standing in the shallows, arms out, wondering how much of that display is going to stick.
like a light lit upon a beach // wear your heart on your sleevetreadingdawnJune 9 2009, 06:06:51 UTC
Don't forget Caspian carries off the look of ridiculously nice hair with natural ease. However he highly prefers not being laughed out of the water and that's why he hasn't asked Chase if he can invite anyone to partake in a lesson or two with him. It's bad enough that he, a king, is trying to educate himself in something so unrelated to the role, which isn't to say he regrets it. Hardly. But no one needs to watch him foolishly fall off a board or tumble under the waves like a classic example of an amateur. No one needs to see him question the funny lotions or ask about a melanoma. No one needs to see the grown leader of a place where at his age he is expected to act like an adult act like a boy learning a new trick, save for the man willing to teach it to him. Well, he has considered asking if Zachary Smith can come along, he has seemed lonely as of late.
And there's Peter too, Romeo if he's interested. But only after Caspian's managed to give himself an edge by learning first.
Then he wonders...do either Doctor Cameron or Doctor Wilson know how to surf? And that last guy. Speaking of him...
"I keep my distance and exercise a sharp tongue only when provoked," he explains casually and coolly, because someone like House should never be someone worth getting worked up over. Right. Caspian doesn't have to know what it is to slag to express his feelings on that matter.
Although he considers asking if Chase has a talent for music too, because he did ask, he turns his attention back to the matter of surfing first. Paddling? That's fine, he does know how to swim despite what certain other people might say. Except this isn't that and swimming will only help him from drowning, even then not necessarily under a heavy tow, but the display sticks... Enough that Caspian can say he knows what he should do, but if he can copy it well...they have several hours to work on it, right? Right.
Anyway, there is one advantage to being too dark and that's not having to slather on the funny sun lotion stuff, although Caspian still knows nothing of that too.
"Hello," he calls out to Chase as he stands, "doctor." Doctor Chase sounds a bit formal for this setting, but Robert sounds near personal. They do call teachers doctors too, so he defaults to this until told otherwise.
While he doesn't jog to meet Chase halfway he does take an easy stride when approaching the older...shorter man. Not that the Telmarine takes any delight in this. Honestly. "Is it? I think it's the same as a good morning to cast off," he adds, hoping that's the right term he remembers from his deckhand days. He notices the way he drops his gaze too but isn't sure as to why. Chase should be so grateful for this.
By the way, it's kingly deference now. Fff.
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He's pulled up short by Caspian's greeting, shooting him a quizzical look from behind windswept blonde hair as he stakes the board into the sand. "Robert." Would be the correct means of address, although he can count on one hand the number of people who use it. Introductions are turning out to be a weird affair here - he had to convince one little girl that Doctor wasn't his first name, and he could use not having to run through his reasons again.
"Or Chase. Up to you, but you don't need to call me doctor unless you're asking me to check out a rash." Just Chase is fine. He's resigned enough to his given name being an event for special occasions.
Much like being resigned to speaking upwards to people. Caspian almost matches House in height, and there's some satisfaction to that at least. Next step, getting them both in the same room. Swinging the bag over his head, Chase looks out across the water, shrugging one shoulder. "Probably depends on your boat." Yes he has been yachting, shut up. "The swell's not going to toss us around like a bad tempered bull, which is the main thing."
And a once over of Caspian's beach apparel raises another pertinent question. "Okay. Got any shorts under those shorts?"
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"I like the sound of Chase," he nods. Although Caspian seems out of his element in this world there are a few things that remain universal, speech and gesture being two. Simply put, the way he says one name sounds more casual than the other, as if Robert is reserved for a group that fits on one hand and Chase for the other. He isn't the type of person to presume the hows or whys, being a man of only one name and one number; the tenth of the former.
Now, his brown gaze settles on the board staked in the sand. It's a little different from what he expected and even then Caspian can't really explain what he expected at all. Going into these things blindly has its advantages and disadvantages. Already he is trying to imagine how one uses that board based on contour, fascinating stuff, but the more he imagines what might be done the farther he gets from focus and just soaking up what he's told. Case in point, he glances to Chase a second after he mentions boats...and swells...and bulls. Well, the important thing is...
"You do sail," he grins. His own idea of a boat isn't fit for a massive armada either, so don't be embarrassed or anything.
Er. But as for this question.
"Yes?" Technically speaking.
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First produced is a sleeveless shirt of black rubber, a compatriot of which might just be visible behind the loose buttons at Chase's collar. He hands it over with an explanation ready prepared. "You can't wear your regular gear in the water, they'll weigh you down. This is a rash guard - goes over your chest to stop the board chafing when you're lying on it. Should fit you. I've got some board shorts to go over the ones underneath, too."
...Chase doesn't go bowling without specialist attire, it's no surprise that it's taken him a while to feel fully set up for hitting the waves. He tosses the shorts across too, working on shedding his own shirt without further ceremony. Besides, he's caught Caspian looking at his board. He's quite proud of the find; it's in good condition, plain blue and white with none of the poncy hawaiian florals people seem so keen on now. "She's going to be a beauty to learn on, don't worry about it."
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Two weeks in...wherever that is with a semblance of a crew is more than what many others do, he thinks. It doesn't sound much like making repairs on a galleon but it is something. Idly he also thinks it's a shame the captain left before they could take his ship farther out to sea. Caspian has always wondered about the horizon in this world, but small steps first and all that. It's enough to think he might even be able to guide himself across the white crest on a plank. Er, surfboard. No he'll never tell Chase he thinks of the blue and white board as a blue and white plank because he knows that has to be wrong but until he's educated.... Well. At least it looks like the finest blue and white plank this side of the City. Hibiscus flowers will never come into the equation.
"Ah," I see, though he really doesn't. Caspian takes this piece, glad that he's long passed the days of considering a tunic and jerkin casual daily wear. Okay he still considers those casual daily wear but he has learned when and what to wear that's appropriate in this place (without looking like an escapee from a fair). It's only expected of royalty to have that knowledge as second nature. He also commits the purpose of the guard to memory which is much easier to do when he thinks of it in terms of armor so to speak. How fortunate he is that Chase hasn't brought special gloves along.
Caspian catches the shorts too and for the briefest moment his face expresses some mild confusion over the difference between those shorts and these shorts. Synthetic fibers aren't something they teach you in Narnia textiles. He trusts the Australian though so after just another flicker of skepticism he strips out of his shorts first because he actually knows how to put them on, then his shirt second because it takes him another few seconds to decide which is the front and which is the back of this one. His guess turns out to be good but that victory doesn't last long because what he realizes next is how snug the rash guard feels. At least comfortably so.
"I'm not so worried," not much, "have you been doing this for a very long time," asks the Telmarine, fairly certain the answer he'll receive is a yes accompanied by a brief history of how long long is. Anyone who prepares this thoroughly for a sport so shortly after finding himself in a strange new world must really really love that sport. And it would be nice to hear a story.
They may share a face but everything else about Robert Chase is unique to him and only him, the same way everything else about Peter Pevensie is unique to him and him alone. There's no guilt or shame in noting they share the same svelte figure regardless of height...although Caspian should really chastise himself for finding the same brand of pasty paleness laughable. Fortunately he doesn't even snicker.
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The reliance might be something he picked it up learning the basics of intensive care. A thousand different props: respirators, filtration systems, defibrillators, dialysis machines, IVs, pumps, drains and catheters all playing their part, used correctly, in keeping a patient alive. It's knowing how to use each implement and aid, and when that make the difference. Precision, down to the last millimetre of wire threaded through the hip into the heart, or the perfect placing of the needle that draws air back into shattered lungs. Neither man nor machine does the job well enough alone. The importance of not screwing up never hit home harder than in that environment, although the truth of it has been drummed in from a far younger age. Along with the knowledge, if not quite acceptance, that life was a bitch and not screwing up didn't always equate to being worthy of praise.
He hates learning, but it's one of those necessary steps before you can move on to achieving. Playing the teacher has it's own complications, but this is one arena he feels fairly qualified to school in.
"Long enough." Mary Poppins would be proud of a bag like this. Chase has not one but two kinds of sunscreen, the first a clear gel application he warms between his palms before smoothing it in wide strokes over the areas the rash guard won't cover. It might keep him pasty, Caspian, it keeps him healthy, too. "I only got serious about it in med school - when I was learning to be a doctor. You spend all day over a microscope waiting for a cell sample to turn the colour you want it to, there's no better way to unwind."
The first bottle gets passed across. The second paints a pale stripe across Chase's nose. "Get your earlobes and eyelids. Most common places to pick up a melanoma, because nobody remembers to cover them."
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As for sunscreen...well. The Telmarine tilts his head at the bottle, clear like an oil but with the consistency of a lotion. He'd never used anything like it on the ship but that could explain why he'd always come home from a day on the deck a little darkened and dry. Not like a shower couldn't help fix that but as with the clothing he trusts Chase with these items too. Caspian is still listening to him as he turns the first bottle around in his hands. Rub the stuff on the areas not covered by his clothes, got it. He uncaps the gel and applies a small amount to his fingertips first, just to feel how viscous it is. It's also slightly cold but that's a minor obstacle. As for being healthy, you can't get any healthier than a seventeen year old conditioned by the military...for a Prince's standard. What it took to become King is a whole 'nother story and not something considered part of the daily regimen. Nevertheless, he does copy those strokes over bare skin.
"It is a difficult study, isn't it? Discipline counts for much if you are to be serious about anything," in the hospital or the waves, his tone implies. "But it's even better when you can apply it to things you enjoy, things that may not relate."
The aching wait over a microscope is lost on Caspian but he can understand wanting to do something completely outside the realm of your work, outside of your role and what's expected of you day in, day out. He smiles to the doctor but the stripes, ah...they get a funny look from the young king.
"I may pick up what in the sea," he asks, almost convinced this is the same thing as drop bears and punching sharks; questionable tall tales.
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Perhaps Caspian's just a strange kid who hasn't fooled Chase into mistaking inexperience for immaturity. Measuring himself aged sixteen against some of the (vastly overrepresented) teenagers in this place leaves him feeling sorely wanting, and still distantly questioning whether at that age he might have coped better. It is, after all, only a little too old to still believe in stories; an in between state when fairytales are dismissed but hopes remain high and fanciful. Kids can adapt to anything - Chase sees it at work all the time both in the sad stories and the happy endings. He should be too old now. His day to day sees him grasping for the reasons that underlie insanity. It's not an obsession, but he sees how easily obsession might creep in, somewhere in the cracks between madness and order.
"It's difficult for some people. If it was too easy everyone would be doing it." There are so many aspects of medicine that leave people by the wayside. Different varieties of difficult, from academia to hours to blood, guts and bodily fluids. Two out of three isn't bad, but it takes a perfect match to make a good doctor. Other aspects, personal skills and patient care, can be ignored or avoided in special cases. Where special can be taken to mean 'grumpy, gimpy bastard'.
"It's a long study, mainly, and you can't afford to be half arsed about it. Not so much trial and error involved as other things worth learning. Surfing, for one." He hoicks the board out of place to illustrate his point, nodding to Caspian to follow down the the breakers.
And what is that question? Chase backtracks over what he's said to try and clarify whatever Caspian's miscomprehension is this time. "A... melanoma? No, no, not in the sea, from the sun. That's what you put the lotion on for; when the sun's this bright it can burn your skin and make you sick. You've seen someone with sunburn before?"
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As for stories...Caspian met the ones he knows best long ago after the sound of a horn. In this world he's come to know other people from tales too, tales the Pevensies have heard, Arthurian and Fable alike. It's different to meet them this way--or maybe it's to Caspian's advantage--but time and time again he learns who they are as people means more to him than whatever legends they've forged, whatever allegories they may represent, though this isn't to dismiss history either. Possibly that's no different from harboring a sentiment over a memory of details. He can't remember in full lush detail, word for word the stories either his nurse or his professor told him of a hundred year winter and sacrifice, a citadel by the sea and allies to the wooded south before a stretch of desert sand, or a horse who grew wings, but Caspian remembers wondering and wanting.
Unfortunately being from tale or not doesn't minimize the susceptibility of this...melanoma. He finds it queer but does acknowledge sun damage. Maybe it's Chase's world's way of saying 'sunburn' because he has seen this before on the one who has grown up to resemble the Australian. The memory of a little tenderness makes him snicker, nevermind sympathy for a friend's pain.
"I have," and the younger man does know a thing or two about passing out from too much heat. Er, not personally though. He strokes the lighter application on the proper features, quite sure that he looks as silly in surf paint as he thinks he does. His moments of miscomprehension may be many but once Caspian learns something he doesn't forget it. This will come in handy if he decides to continue learning how to ride the waves, which he does. Yes, before he's even hit the surf he's already decided.
"Peter may be studying medicine," Caspian nods before trotting after Chase. "I am steeped in politics, when I am not here," he amends, "but on the side I have learned to play woodwinds and strings."
For the record he is well aware that musical prowess a good background for surfing or sailing does not make, but the discipline to continue learning to the point of intermediate or even advanced accomplishment count for something. Right?
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With Caspian daubed in surfer's camouflage, Chase kneels with the board where the water just licks the shore, smoothing the sand off the narrower end with the care of a swordsman tending his blade. He's already seen to the waxing and conditioning needed, something he can show Caspian if the young king ever has the whim for a board of his own.
"I think his sister told me," he looks up from the sand to nod at Caspian's words, "The medicine I do has changed a lot from his time. It was a big period of development, after the war. Always is." Necessity as mother of invention, or however the saying went. And yes, Chase also knew the ending of those books, but telling Caspian that his mate may as well not bother with the study would be a fine way to bugger up a morning. One tip out of Cameron's book: never deliver bad news before you have to.
He tilts his head at the rest, news to him. "What sort of woodwind and strings?" He can't remember if Narnia conforms to the fantasy convention of giving everyday items outlandish names to make them sound more impressive in the setting. Fantasy writers and pharmaceutical branding officials : sadists, both.
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"That's right, you know Lucy don't you." He remembers them talking to each other too, as a child and otherwise. Both times friendly and he doesn't doubt that the Valiant also sees not just the similarity in face but the parallel of practice too. At least, what Peter intends to practice. One tip out of Cameron's book is the best to keep in mind around them. "Eden says the same thing. She works under..." That guy. The sour one. "Doctor House," Caspian manages to say without distaste. It isn't that he hates the old man but, well, he does tend to refer to the Telmarine by anything other than you know, his actual name. Fff.
Because he's still paying attention while not exactly sure where to begin with this lesson, Caspian also kneels in the sand. If asked why he will of course say he's only trying to get a better look at what Chase is doing.
"I started with a recorder and a theorbo but I can play the flute and guitar too. I am practiced in blowing or plucking," says the man bred for some recognition of well rounded royal character. After the night his cousin was born he's come to believe he was made to study many things just to keep busy. Out of his uncle's way.
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(And if perhaps Chase's learner board had been an altogether more intricate affair, reeking of an overeagerness to impress, that truth has no relation to his tastes as they stand. Nor, moreover, would his having been laughed out of the water for it. He's not still doing his best to emulate the people he looked up to back when he was a rookie, still spending more time inhaling water under the waves than riding them. That would be absurd.)
"Doctor House is my boss, too," his attention is back on the board for a moment, having already taken in and assessed that pause. Maybe it's an assumption, but the chances are high it's a fair one to take, "You can slag him off if you like, everyone does."
Chase's own musical endeavors were more what the school expected of him than an exercise in shutting him up. Practice kept him quiet only in the sense that the music room was in the farthest reaches of the house, and spending an hour a night strangling a cat in there was marginally less painful on the other inhabitants than it might have been had he practiced anywhere else. He'd grown good at it, he's always had a certain grace with his hands, though put a bow in his hands now and he'll probably be right back to torturing felines.
To the lesson? Chase shifts on his heels, lining up with the narrowed end of the board. "Right, before you can surf the waves, you've got to get out to them and you've got to be able to stand up. I'll show you, and you can copy, right?"
As he lays down there's an explanation of paddling, keeping your arms close to the board, and how to dive under the smaller waves as you hit them on your way out. The perfect back arch to keep the board straight, and the final push from knees to feet that leaves Chase standing in the shallows, arms out, wondering how much of that display is going to stick.
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And there's Peter too, Romeo if he's interested. But only after Caspian's managed to give himself an edge by learning first.
Then he wonders...do either Doctor Cameron or Doctor Wilson know how to surf? And that last guy. Speaking of him...
"I keep my distance and exercise a sharp tongue only when provoked," he explains casually and coolly, because someone like House should never be someone worth getting worked up over. Right. Caspian doesn't have to know what it is to slag to express his feelings on that matter.
Although he considers asking if Chase has a talent for music too, because he did ask, he turns his attention back to the matter of surfing first. Paddling? That's fine, he does know how to swim despite what certain other people might say. Except this isn't that and swimming will only help him from drowning, even then not necessarily under a heavy tow, but the display sticks... Enough that Caspian can say he knows what he should do, but if he can copy it well...they have several hours to work on it, right? Right.
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