♥ Who: Peter and you!
♥ Where: Ainea's temple -> Empty space near the basic housing.
♥ When: Early Ainir, while a certain Lucis Caelum is passed out
♥ What: Fretting. And sparring. But mostly fretting.
♥ Rating: PG-13 due to violence against blankets. And maybe a few choice words.


Morning I wanna hide the truth, I wanna shelter you

By most reasoning, Peter was still new to this place. Two months was not long in the over all scheme of things, at least not according to him. He was a king, his view point had to be farther sighted than most. As such, he'd taken his time to ease into this place and it's particular brand of chaos, watching the days go by until he started to recognize faces and patterns and smiles. He dipped his toes into social gatherings and made idle chit chat, but mostly he kept to himself and his brother in the small 'townhouse' that they'd been given.

Like most things in life, there was always an exception to the norm and in Peter's that exception had come in the bright smile and mischievous green eyes of one Regis Lucis Caelum. The man was a pleasure to be around and Peter had grown close to him. So when he'd learned that his friend was ill the news had hit him hard.

Ainea's temple was strange to him, but it's halls had become less so as he visited. Every day he came, first thing in the morning, sitting on the edge of the bed his friend was laid out on and holding his hand. Sometimes he told Regis about the day before or about Edmund's latest knowledge dump. Sometimes he told him about the dreams he'd had, usually of Narnian summers and the smell of warm salt air. Sometimes he just sat quietly.

Really, he was bound to run into someone from Regis' life sooner rather than later, but he'd take his chances and deal with it when the situation arose.


Afternoon But with the beast inside, there's nowhere we can hide

Very early in his kingship, Peter had learned a very important lesson. Emotions could not be hidden. They had to be dealt with and worked through in order for them to become and remain an ally to someone as instinctual as himself. Bottling up pain, anger, or fear only served as a stopper between his mind and his body. As such, Oreius had spent many a day teaching him how to work through that stopper and free what he'd been afraid to feel.

It made him a good king and a better man.

Here was no different. Watching Regis lay on that bed, so quiet and still, left him off kilter and restless. That coupled with the lack of training space had called for drastic measures. A place nearby had been found that was mostly empty. A request for more bedding, the worst quality the natives had to offer preferably. A wire to wrap everything together and then it was just a matter of climbing up the lamp post to hang the bundle of bedding. It wasn't as steady as a proper dummy, but it would offer feedback and a target.

Afternoons found him at his new training grounds, sword in both hands for once as he worked through each guard position with the kind of fluid grace that only came with years of experience. Vom tag, ochs, pflug, alber, back to vom tag over and over until his muscles felt warm and loose under his skin. He added footwork, taking sure and solid steps as he circled his 'foe'.

Regis had been so still.

Vom tag, ochs, pflug, alber and this time he added an oberhaw, striking out at the hanging bundle of bedding with a cry that was far more ragged than he cared to admit.