rabadashthepeacemaker-blog

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"Your highness, your father isn't going to like that!" A voice squeaked from the corner, responding to an earlier suggestion made by the Prince. Rabadash had woken up that morning, with the intentions on taking a leave from the council meeting. Yes, it had been rescheduled multiple times due to different reasons, and the last it had been rescheduled, Rabadash had damn near taken a fit, but this was important. Imogen was important. If Rabadash were to get his way, he would be dismissed from the meeting without much of a fuss. "That's absolute horse--" the Prince began, but he was cut short by the servant who managed to let out a shrill, high pitched squeak. If looks could kill, Rabadash was sure that the man would have fallen over dead; an annoyed looked came over his face, and his eyes narrowed.

"Oh shut up," he muttered, using a shirt to hit the servant over the head. Of course, it was nothing more than a sweep across the face. It did no harm. A few moments later, he was turning to leave the room. The letter that Imogen wrote him was stuck in his pocket, so that he would know where to find her. The young prince knew the corridors inside and out, so it was only a matter of minutes before he was in the hallway leading to the front gates. In the distance, Rabadash could already make out that a woman was standing there, so he only assumed that it could be Imogen. That and the picnic basket in her hand was a dead giveaway. Rabadash' pace started to quicken, until eventually he was in a run; his shoes slapped against the stone. Moments later, he was standing in front of Imogen, a childish gleam to him as he spoke, "hi Imogen."  

The Importance of Talking| Imogdash

Imogen grinned at the letter in her hand. She placed it on her bed, and hurried to put a fresh walking dress on. Gone were the days of her trousers and the days of dresses have returned. She had just returned from her trip to Narnia, she had been to see the sea, Cor and the library there. Once upon a time, she would have thought that the way in which she was missing Rabadash was pathetic. She refused to think that way now for she had realized just what it was that made her miss him as she did. Love. Strangely enough. It was typically an emotion that was reserved for Jenson, the Liberty’s and Juliette, and now, to be able to identify it as what she felt for him was indeed love. She prayed that he’d take her news in a decent manner, as he had begun doing. He had changed her as much as she had him. Though, the sea still called to her, it was more of a soft whisper.

Imogen walked to the kitchens and politely asked the chef to prepare a small picnic. She waited in silence as those in the kitchens worked, many whispered about her, being a ‘barbarian woman’ and all. She huffed and rolled her eyes when they weren’t looking. She was excited to share her feelings with their prince and Imogen refused to allow them to dampen her spirits. She took her basket after it was made and with a polite smile and ‘thank you’, she left to the front doors to wait for Rabadash.

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Cora grinned, now was the time when she could pull a prank and not get caught. Few knew her true identity making what she planned on doing possible. She cleared her throat. "Excuse me?"

“What?” Rabadash spat out. He had been sitting there, attempting to string a necklace; his large hands made him clumsy and often he missed the opening of the bead. When the female, whoever she may be, had interrupted him, it cause him to pull the string out of a bead he had been working with for at least an hour. On the verge of quitting his job, he let out a quick huff and reminded himself why he had been there in the first place. It was his mothers birthday soon- or so he had been told- and needed to find something quick and meaningful to give her. For he knew she would burst out in tears if he had bought something. “Can’t you see I’m busy?” he breathed out, looking up. 

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You are to be constantly moving. You are, after all, a King to be.

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Rabadash, love, I'd like to see you this afternoon. I've got, what is in my opinion, the wonderful information to tell you. I'll pack a picnic.

Wonderful? Well, if food is involved, I suppose I can cancel the meeting.

[rabadashthepeacemaker-blog]

*grins mischievously* Hey there.

So you didn't leave, forever?

Rabadash is on Hiatus. But Juliette is on semi- and so I dropped in and hello Lezlur. 

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With a bloated pride, Rabadash raised his eyebrows at her statement of her uncertainty of his name. A lord was simply not enough of a title for the Prince to live by, but still, he would allow her to think that was his name, as he had allowed everybody else to. The name that came to mind was one that slid off his tongue easily; it was a lie worth telling over and over, "Yeknod of Calormen, the small home on top of the hill."

The part of being on top of a hill was not a lie, for on top of a hill there stood a solid house- large enough for two or three people to live in but nobody more. It was made of mud and Rabadash often stayed in it when he had guests visiting from distant lands. Everybody always wanted to see the wonderous town. That was something Rabadash could not deny- it held a beauty.

"What is it with orange haired people that fascinate them so much with brown haired people?" Rabadash questioned. His eyes flickered to look at the girls orange hair- complimenting the colour of her skin- while the pale complexity sat there, with small indented scars- only Tash knew from what.

→A bit of child's play|Rabadash&Emie←

Emie frowned a bit when he muttered under his breath, and she briefly wondered if he cursed due to her presence. But his smile said something else and she found herself wondering if she should believe she was welcome or not. She’d never met any Calormene before and she had been told once that they were different in their mannerisms of speaking compared to Narnians. Was he being polite just as show, or was he really interested. She bit the inside of her lip, taking a deep breath as she slowed her walk down to a complete stop, turning to the man.

“I am Euphemie, from Avra,” she said, introducing herself. She would’ve said “Euphemie of Avra and Daughter of Lord Bern of the Seven Swords of Telmar,” but it seemed a bit much in the situation and she refrained herself from sounding like a show off. That was not something she did unless somebody truly asked her entire title. Instead she gave a reluctant smile and questioned, “I am sorry, m’lord, but I am unable to recall a face like yours. Have me met before?” She hoped she didn’t sound too rude about not recognizing the man; what if he was somebody important in court and she overlooked something?

Her eyes landed on the book, an eyebrow raised in interest. She wanted to ask how the book was, but couldn’t bring herself too. There was something different about this man, from the people she’d met so far. His presence intimidated her, and she did not if she should be fearing him or standing in awe of him. So she remained quiet.

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With a sudden stop of reading and a start of stomping, Rabadash came out of the room only to spot a girl standing at the end of the hall, starting her way down it. His eyes narrowed for a brief second before he brought the book up, making it seem as if he were not finished reading- when in reality he was- and waited for her to approach. Just to see what she looked like and if she was dangerous. The closer she got, the more Rabadash felt the need to jump at her, to make her frightened; he kept himself from doing it though. He knew his place was not to strike fear into people. That was his father's job.

When Emie had spoken outloud, he looked up at her, giving her a kind smile. One that would seem he was nice- that was a charm he had- tricking people into thinking he was kind. She was quite a beauty, he would admit, but we must keep in mind that it had been weeks since he had last encountered Imogen and had begun to fear that she had left his world. With eyes trained on the red head, he bowed low, swooping the book across the ground.

"Blasted book," he muttered, coming up from the bow. Rabadash spoke slightly louder so that she could hear what he was saying, "good day, what is your name?"

ooc: It was fine, darling. Thanks for answering.

→A bit of child's play|Rabadash&Emie←

Emie was still exploring the Cair, as she did nearly everyday since she’d arrived. And every time, even she went down the same hallways, she managed to find a new route to somewhere else and learned something new. Just this afternoon she’d set out in the direction of the kitchen - whatever she could remember from AJ telling her - and had ended up outside the library instead. Now, she was making her way back from there, and hoping to actually end up in the kitchen. Since her first day meeting the chef, she had managed to befriend the kitchen staff and was much less hesitant about asking them to whip up a delicacy for her.

She’d only just turned a corner when she noticed a man with a novel in his hand. A reader, her mind automatically jumped, hoping it was a scholar. Those were the people she was born to and was immediately drawn to almost all the time. However, she didn’t know this man and her inherent shy nature came forth as her cheeks tinged a little out of chagrin. Should she continue walking and not introduce herself, or would that be too rude? But what if he was reading and didn’t want to be disturbed? Perhaps that is why he’d chosen an empty hallway and she’d come barging in.

Deciding not to dwell too much - otherwise she’d give herself a headache - she walked by, settling for an in between reaction, nodding to the man. She recognized the darker features as Calormen almost instantly, and greeted, “Good day,” hoping that was a decent in between substitute for a greeting as well as an apology for barging in on their free space.

ooc: that alright, love? i can remove it if you’d like…

[rabadashthepeacemaker-blog]

→A bit of child's play|Rabadash&open←

Out of character :  Because of how limited I've put Rabadash, I think it would be brilliant if somebody who has never spoken to Rabadash before to take up this open Para. Perhaps somebody who is just starting out in the group? Of course, feel free to take it if you've been here a while, as well. As long as it's filled.

With soft feet, for the first time in quite a while, the Prince of Calormen made his way through the kingdom of Narnia. He had avoided approaching anybody who seemed suspicious of his presence. There was something suspicious though, the way he sneaked around, instead of his regular stomping on the stone floor. He was up to something, it was all a matter as to figuring out what he was up to.

"Double, double, toil and trouble," Rabadash spoke out loud, his brown eyes grazing the text of a novel in hand. It was written in the classical play form, obviously not taken from his world but the one that is very well known to both you and I. Where he had managed to pick it up, is a mystery to anybody who doesn't know him well enough. The male stood still, reading over the words and chants, before he started parading around as the instructions said. Unfortunately, he wasn't familiar with the idea of performances, and merely thought the play write was a bit of children's fun.

"Blasted book will never amount to anything," the prince proclaimed, closing it hastily before he took a look around where he was. Empty space besides a few rooms; he decided to wonder into one after a few minutes of debating. Any room would be better than no room. Besides, the hallways were always drafty.

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RABADASH DARLING! -bows in the Calormene style and smiles- Oh, darling, it makes such a dreadful time I don't see you. You do look so happy, dear, handsome too. Have you married the barbarian Queen? You do indeed does what you want, of course. A party is what we need, yes, a party so we can talk and-- OH DARLING, why aren't you in Calormen anymore? Have you gone -with all due respect to you and your father the Tisroc -may he live for ever- - mad? Won't the lion demon see you?

Slowly turning attention towards the woman who didn't seem to stop talking, Rabadash stood there, dumbfounded as he listened to her speak. Of course he knew that he was handsome; he was very aware in these sorts of situations about how attractive he was- but he wasn't able to give his opinion of it, as she kept talking.

"Well," he finally got in, starting what he had to say. He shushed her before he continued, "I must visit Imogen and this is her place- where she prefers to be, why in this cursed land. I haven't gone mad, the slightest, how dare you accuse me of that."

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I thought we’d be together only in death.

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here it is! enjoy :D

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Happy late birthday your highness. Aslan asked that I give you this delicious carrot. He said they were your favorite.

Carrots? CARROTS? NO. 

Thank you.

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I suppose I could wish the Prince a happy birthday...

You should have on my birthday. Thank you. 

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You have best watch yourself, you poor excuse of a King. If you come anywhere near Calormen, your head will be chopped and your body boiled then fed to the dogs....Imogen's going to get mad at me. Thank you.

Happy Birthday, Rabadash. Here is an autographed picture for you. To always remind you how the things work.

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Happy Birthday.

...thank you peasant. 

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I called him what he is, a poor excuse of a King. He is not of actual royal blood, he's a peasant that got lucky.

you must all bow to me!