Action post;

[wandbreaker]

For when there's no entry up, or for random house adventures. Third-person, present tense preferred.

Crew anytime, anyone else with prior notification.

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Because now we say goodnight from our own separate sides;

[oshutup.livejournal.com]

Edmund's words are not untrue and they aren't unfair, but the fact that Peter already knows he owes Lucy at least the truth makes it hurt no less. Ghosts can experience every emotion a living man can, apparently, but all he's had of late are the shadows to contend with. This does not help but it does not hinder what he came here to do either, and at this point he will take what he can get. A deal, a compromise, but it isn't so simple.

Still, he doesn't have time to tell his brother how that's so.

"I know," he agrees and acknowledges, silence slipping in and they're wasting time. He can feel it. In response to the matter of Caspian, however, his response is stark with difference. "You can. Pull rank if you have to. I don't care." It's not entirely the truth; Peter cares, Peter cares too much, but again they don't have time, not here where he can all but feel the approaching presence of the other ghost who still will not reveal itself to him even as it ousts him from this place, time and again. But if Peter knows one thing, it's that Caspian understands his responsibility, his crown, his kingdom earned not given.

When that is brought into sharpest focus, he knows; Caspian won't risk it, and it won't be the command itself if the Just must issue it that holds the Telmarine back. It will simply be knowing what is implied is right.

'Right' isn't often easy, but no one said that it would be, and that is true for all of them.

"I can't tell her now though," he goes back to Lucy, and it's thinking on this more that etches a break in his voice, the first he's shown to anyone, and maybe his brother can pick up on that without needing to be told. If anyone could, it would be him. "Ed, how do I tell her I'm--"

But it's the same push from before, the same wholly surrounding force that interrupts not only his concentration but the translation of his channeling into the gramophone which rocks on the table, but it doesn't fall like the record player did weeks ago. What the remaining Pevensie brother feels is not a breeze this time likely but a gust, as if a trail of storm has funneled its way in, sending papers and other loose knicknacks flying, then clattering to the ground. It's a more violent refusal of his presence and not for the first time, when Peter has his sense about him again, he wonders what it is about him that the other ghost hates so much.

It doesn't occur to him that they have all been long uninvited, but if he was to know what became of said other ghost he would understand only too well; how painful to see someone like you talk to those he loves when you've waited all this time for that self-same thing.

Outside, beneath the tree in the courtyard, he doesn't move. Maybe for hours. Rather, it must be, because the next thing he knows, the sun is rising, but that is the only change here. Scenery.

Peter remains a ghost, here but not here, as he leaves at last to seek out one last being.

He does owe Lucy, but it's not to Lucy that he needs to speak about it with.

Let me find you, he thinks.

And if the being that knows him better than he knows himself is still here, Peter wills himself to believe--because he needs to, because if he doesn't then he has nothing left to try--that his request has been heard.