“Well, that’s a neat trick.”
Something divine must bless Caspian at this very moment, because it takes all the willpower he can muster and then some not to burst out snickering. Nothing about this situation is actually laughable, and the urge to laugh uproariously comes from the place of utmost duress that’s been building in his gut. But Taroko just sounds so irritated. And that’s not unheard of, Caspian’s seen it on his face to all degrees, in rain or shine. Taroko’s temper had the flimsiness of a coin flip, and Caspian had once witnessed him go from magnanimously praising a mutual acquaintance to the most murderous depths of a scowl when someone accidentally bumped into him on the street. But the utterance that’s a neat trick had come with teeth gritted, practically grinding. Because Taroko can’t figure out for the life of him how Caspian’s disappeared, and the longer the mystery goes on, the more scared he’ll become.
Yes, scared.
Despite how devotedly Caspian had once looked up to him, he had never once been under the impression that Taroko was perfect, or impervious to fault. The problem had been, perhaps, his overestimation of Taroko’s abilities, his taking at face value Taroko’s brimming over confidence and blustery belief that he was always in the right. But he had always known Taroko was capable of feeling fear, now and again, and from Caspian’s experience it was exacerbated by his own arrogance. The higher Taroko believed he flew, the more afraid he was of ever falling.
Still, fear wasn’t enough to make Taroko freeze. Mouth held in a tight grimace, brow furrowing in barely concealed frustration, he held the lantern aloft, taking some steps forward in one direction, then the other, peering into the dark. All the while Caspian held absolutely still. The magic of Obfuscate only worked if he held his position, and this could pose a problem if Taroko simply walked directly towards him, and he’d be forced to move in response. There was a lucky break – he deserves one every now and then – and Taroko happened to walk in the opposite direction from him, his back turned. Making the most of the opportunity, Caspian slunk backwards, his strides extended but slow, landing as softly as he could on the muddied floors.
Could he find the girl while Taroko was distracted by his search?
But he’s trying to do too much at once, and though Obfuscate could melt him into the dark, it didn’t grant him any enhanced vision within it. On one of his long strides away from Taroko, his left foot presses against something pointed and made of metal, that rattles. With a predator’s pounce, Taroko suddenly lunges towards the sound, blade whipping through the air.
Gasping, Caspian flings himself out of harm’s way, and right back into the lantern light.
Taroko’s eyes lock on him with triumph.
“You’re going to have to show me how you did that sometime,” Taroko says darkly, and Caspian throws his own arm up, Obfuscate ringing where it clashes against Taroko’s blade.
Something divine must bless Caspian at this very moment, because it takes all the willpower he can muster and then some not to burst out snickering. Nothing about this situation is actually laughable, and the urge to laugh uproariously comes from the place of utmost duress that’s been building in his gut. But Taroko just sounds so irritated. And that’s not unheard of, Caspian’s seen it on his face to all degrees, in rain or shine. Taroko’s temper had the flimsiness of a coin flip, and Caspian had once witnessed him go from magnanimously praising a mutual acquaintance to the most murderous depths of a scowl when someone accidentally bumped into him on the street. But the utterance that’s a neat trick had come with teeth gritted, practically grinding. Because Taroko can’t figure out for the life of him how Caspian’s disappeared, and the longer the mystery goes on, the more scared he’ll become.
Yes, scared.
Despite how devotedly Caspian had once looked up to him, he had never once been under the impression that Taroko was perfect, or impervious to fault. The problem had been, perhaps, his overestimation of Taroko’s abilities, his taking at face value Taroko’s brimming over confidence and blustery belief that he was always in the right. But he had always known Taroko was capable of feeling fear, now and again, and from Caspian’s experience it was exacerbated by his own arrogance. The higher Taroko believed he flew, the more afraid he was of ever falling.
Still, fear wasn’t enough to make Taroko freeze. Mouth held in a tight grimace, brow furrowing in barely concealed frustration, he held the lantern aloft, taking some steps forward in one direction, then the other, peering into the dark. All the while Caspian held absolutely still. The magic of Obfuscate only worked if he held his position, and this could pose a problem if Taroko simply walked directly towards him, and he’d be forced to move in response. There was a lucky break – he deserves one every now and then – and Taroko happened to walk in the opposite direction from him, his back turned. Making the most of the opportunity, Caspian slunk backwards, his strides extended but slow, landing as softly as he could on the muddied floors.
Could he find the girl while Taroko was distracted by his search?
But he’s trying to do too much at once, and though Obfuscate could melt him into the dark, it didn’t grant him any enhanced vision within it. On one of his long strides away from Taroko, his left foot presses against something pointed and made of metal, that rattles. With a predator’s pounce, Taroko suddenly lunges towards the sound, blade whipping through the air.
Gasping, Caspian flings himself out of harm’s way, and right back into the lantern light.
Taroko’s eyes lock on him with triumph.
“You’re going to have to show me how you did that sometime,” Taroko says darkly, and Caspian throws his own arm up, Obfuscate ringing where it clashes against Taroko’s blade.
x