petervel

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hello 🧍🏽‍♂️

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taps microphone. whose ankles do i need to chew to get a susan pevensie around here :|

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selective mcu - based original character, penned and loved by blue since april 2015! 18+ only, mun is 21+, revamped july 2022!

promo credit: @ashelps !!

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excuse me.

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update there’s a matching benjamin interview and he just used the word ‘narnianized’ in reference to caspian’s film arc. what the fuck

NARNIAN STRENGTH?

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NARNIAN STRENGTH?

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                                 they    are    just    coming    to    their    nearest  .

#𝐂𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐀𝐍   +   #𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐋 :     heavily  affiliated  interpretations  of  caspian  x  and  peter  richard  pevensie  from  c.s.  lewis’    ‘ the  chronicles  of  narnia ’     novels .

a  joint  exploration  of  :     trust   /   devotion   /   faith ,     mirror  souls ,     the  homeland  personified  ,     the  sun  and  the  shade ,     mutual  sacrifice  as  a  violent  gesture  of  love ,     and  the  stars .     beloved  by  zelda   &   megaera .

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Friendly reminder that this blog is pro-choice and if you don’t think everyone should have full control of their own body, then kindly unfollow me right now and go to hell

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#𝙿𝙴𝚃𝙴𝚁𝚅𝙴𝙻.     a  private     &     indie  roleplay  blog  for   PETER  RICHARD  PEVENSIE   of  c.s.  lewis's   the  chronicles  of  narnia  series.   book  based,   with  some  influences  from  the  films  and  headcanons.   medium  activity.   primarily  plot  driven.   est  250821.   written  by  megaera.

→  𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲   :          carrd .     promo .     caspian .

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐁��𝐎𝐆 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐒   :     destiny ,     faith ,     childhood's violent death ,     reluctant heroes ,         the ties that bind ,         hearts and their heavy burdens .

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LUCY     ;     @unbelovd···:

          𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄   𝐀𝐑𝐄   𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐄   𝐖𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐄   𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐘   𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐘   𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃   𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐅𝐄𝐑         (   …   )         in   times   of   turmoil   ,      of   joy   ,      of   adventure      &      of   loss      —      could   she   herself   make   such   a   choice   ,      lucy   would   see   all   of   it   through   with   peter   .      to   lose   him   as   she   has   so   thoroughly   convinced   herself   she   may   have   done   is   a   thought   devastating   beyond   any   mend   .         [      how   would   you   reconcile   with   his   estrangement   ,      had   you   pushed   him   away   to   such   lengths   ?      where   does   one   go   after   such   a   tremendous   loss         (   …   )         whose   arms   does   one   fall   into   when   those   most   familiar   aren’t   the   same   welcoming   place   they   had   once   been   ?      ]        

          𝒘𝒆𝒂𝒌   ‘ 𝒎𝒉𝒎𝒎 ’   𝒊𝒔   𝒐𝒇𝒇𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒅   𝒊𝒏   𝒂𝒄𝒄𝒆𝒑𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆   ,      though   he’s   already   closed   the   door   in   his   wake   as   she   was   quite   sure   he   would   .      eyes   burn   with   such   a   dull   ,      dry   ache      —      weariness      &      grief   an   unbearable   amalgam   at   this   hour   ,      when   nothing   stands   between   lucy      &      their   wrath      —      yet   ,      for   all   of   lucy’s   fears   ,      peter   does   .      brother   ;      beacon   of   protection         (   …   )         [      he’s   always   watched   over   you   ,      whether   by   sitting   bedside   with   book   in   hand   or   in   wielding   mighty   arms   worlds   away   .      ]

          𝒍𝒖𝒄𝒚   𝒉𝒂𝒔   𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏   𝒈𝒍𝒂𝒅   𝒇𝒐𝒓   ��𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈   𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆   than   when   an   arm   opens   to   her   ,      youngest   descending   into   eldest   with   a   renewed   burning   in   her   eyes   .      face   buries   into   peter’s   shoulder         (   …   )         fingers   curling   into   the   robe   he’d   swathed   her   in   to   keep   the   fabric   tight   ‘gainst   slender   shoulders   .            ❛ ❛      no   ,    �� ❜ ❜            she   laments   ,      words   muffled   ‘til   lucy   turns   her   face   slightly   to   speak   .      breath   catches   in   her   throat   ,      girl   doing   her   most   not   to   unravel   .            ❛ ❛      i’m   dr   -   dreadful   ,      aren’t   i   ?      ❜ ❜            hand   raises         (   …   )         backs   of   lucy’s   knuckles   dragging   beneath   damp   nose   as   she   sniffles   .

        ❛ ❛      𝒂𝒃𝒔𝒐𝒍𝒖𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒚   𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒇𝒖𝒍   .      ❜ ❜            [      there’s   too   much   grief      &      guilt   in   your   bones   ,      you’re   not   entirely   sure   you   can   keep   them   all   together   .      your   family   must   think   so   low   of   you   ,      (   be   so   disappointed   )   ,      though   not   nearly   as   low   as   you   yourself   do   .      healing   this   sort   of   immortal   wound   takes   time   ;      aslan   meant   for   this   .      (   why   would   he   want   this   ?      what   had   they   done   to   deserve   this   loss   ?   )      ]                     ❛ ❛      i   didn’t   mean   to   bring   us   back   ,      ❜❜            she   grieves   ,      shaking   her   head   in   the   slightest   .            ❛ ❛      i   didn’t   mean   to   .      ❜ ❜

it  kills  him  to  see  her  like  this  ;     kills him to bear witness to a wound he cannot mend as easily as a bandaid o’er a skimmed knee  ,     a kiss to a papercut  .     [   this  wound  ,     you  know  ,     is  deep  ;     this  wound  ,     you  know  ,     will  leave  its  scars  on  you  all  .   ]     lucy the valiant plasters herself against each contour of his body  ,     as if she’s drowning 'neath each swathe of velvety fabric stitched together in a mismatch of silhouettes to shape his too - big housecoat   &   his narrow shoulders are her only chance at survival  ,     and peter draws her nearer  ,     plucking a monogrammed handkerchief from the breast pocket of his robe  .     [   in  another  life  ,     you  pulled  fishes  from  frozen  lakes  ;     eased  your  bloodied  sword  out  from  between  motionless  ribs     ⸻     it  ,     too  ,     had  been  emblazoned  with  your  name  from  the  start  .     how  can  you  blame  her  ,     for  always  guiding  you  down  the  right  path  ?   ]     he should have known better  ,     he thinks  ,     than to plead ignorance in the face of the blood that still seeps from four twin gashes  .

❛   lucy  anne  ,   ❜     he murmurs  ,     touching the pad of a gentle finger to the underside of her rounded chin   &   coaxing her face out of hiding with a subtle drop of his lips  .     ❛   i  know  that  .     all  of  us  do  .     don’t  you  think  for  a  moment  that  it  was  your  fault  .     aslan   ⸻   ❜     he falters  ,     now  ,     as if the name is a sin  ;     as if he doesn’t  believe  himself  worthy  to let it take shape ‘pon his tongue  .     [   was  it  your  fault  ,     then  ?     if  you  had  fought  harder ,     bled  better ,   would  you  all  still  be  home ?   ]          ❛   aslan  knew  what  he  was  doing  ,     opening  that  door  for  us  again  .     besides  ,     you  heard  the  professor  ;     we’ll  go  back  .     one  day  ,     we’ll  be  back  .   ❜     

the  hand  ‘round  her  shoulders  remains  ,     ever - steadfast as peter presses the hanky into her open palms and drops a mute kiss atop her weary head  .     ❛   whatever  happened  . . .     whatever  will  happen  . . .     it’s  out  of  our  hands  .     all  you  can  do     ⸻     for  the  moment  ,     at  least     ⸻     is  be  there  for  me  .     just  like  i  will  be  for  you  .     and  perhaps  ,     we  might  just  get  through  it  together  .     do  you  think  that  sounds  alright  ?   ❜

[petervel]

twirling my hair @ all the new quarry blogs <3

[petervel]

CASPIAN     ;     cairspian·:

his  swift  but  graceless  descent  towards  the  floor  lacks  a  narrator ,     plunging much too fast to recount  how  exactly the high king peter has managed to sweep caspian off balance     ⸺     instead ,     he thoughtlessly scrambles on the ground in a heap of limbs with a pool of dark hair weaving into green blades of grass .    belatedly ,      the young prince harbors an  unnameable  distaste  for the smile that sweetly adorns their face seemingly hung in the sky like the ubiquitous sun ,    blazing star in the sky which scorns tanned skin red :     delight ,      he finally names the expression buried in the swelled cheeks ‘neath narrowed eyes .     he  revels  in  taking  you  down .     with an aggregating tension besetting his worked jaw ,     caspian wants for nothing other than a submarine dive into those twin lakes of blue dredging the bait that tugs the corner of his lips ,     to rip apart the veil that obscures brush strokes composing him ,     find the  man - made  strokes  in this covert masterpiece .

traitorously ,     a thought squeaks from ‘tween creaking ribs like double doors eased open ,     since  when  have  you  last  seen  him  smile ?     not  soon  enough .     the cracks of a boy in peter’s three - faced veneer is a  chalice  of  wine  sprouting from the wastelands     ⸺     he nearly indulges in the unknown taste     (   its promise of refreshment ,     intoxication ,     and impending requital   )     before his opposing mind enacts its comeuppance ,     a foot reaching out to redeem an even smaller reward in the sight of peter clambering towards the ground by the hook of his riding boot .

the  young  prince  doesn’t  know  what  had  irked  him  more :     finding a glimpse of what lies beyond his facade ,     or how much it mirrors his own image .     (   these quarreling soldiers will never find their  lingua  franca     ⸺     they suppose it will do enough to study thoroughly these tomes of a different language .   )    furtively ,     he wonders what peter sees in his own unguarded expressions ,     the mountain of a past looming cotton - gilded shoulders .     he  hopes  for  that  over  nothing .

the balls of caspian’s unschooled palms connect rather brashly with the other’s side in an attempt to roll him on his back ,     closing  their  unbearable  distance ,      threading orbits like planets colliding ‘neath the shuddering weight of the universe when he pounces to secure  the  high  king  -  the  hero  -  the  boy  in their place on the ground .     with knees locked on either side of peter’s lap     (   ‘pon which all they must have ever needed  falls  with such ease   ) ,     his hands conclude their  clumsy expedition  wildly clutching the collars of their jerkin      ⸺     should  he  end  this  petty  squabbling ,     claim  his  victory  o’er  the  heat  pinned  beneath  aching  thighs  yet  never  look  once  into  the  flame  consuming  his  body  whole ?

the rise  &  fall of his hunched back coordinates with the labored pants forming puffs of hot air atop high king’s shadowed face ,     making haste to reclaim stolen air      ⸺     caspian steels .     (   somehow ,     it  feels  much  too  late  to  decide .   )

❛   do  you  expect  me  to  run  forever catching  up  to  you ?    ❜       he tastes the nick of a bloody wound at the tip of his tongue as if he’d been spitting daggers before he could stop himself ,     disarmed so easily that he grapples for some other ammunition only inches from those same twin lakes of blue now frozen over     ⸺     yet  caspian  still  feels  at  risk  of  drowning .     knuckles painted white as the prince tightens his grip ,       ❛   because i will stop at  nothing .     even if it seems like i  waste  my  time   tiring at your feet     ⸺     i will give you all that i have to show for if it proves narnia anything .    ❜

                  is  she  all  that  you’re  aching  to  impress ?

sharpened glare drips down like stalactites ,     piercing hard into the ice .    if  you  want  what  you  have  already  got :     look  away .     he makes no further effort to question how his own gaze never leaves peter’s even as a droplet of sweat is collected into damp brow .     like spitting teeth into high king’s hand ,       ❛    the  telmarine  army  has  strength  in  numbers .    ❜       he finally says ,     not entirely sure what for .     (   what  if  it’s  never  enough ?     you  are  a  boy ,     prince ,     what  three  you  see  in  him ,     he  sees  only  one  in  you .     but  what  other  choice  do  they  have ?    what  other  chance  will  you  risk ?   )

his  body  moves  before  his  mind  ,     palms unlatching at a silent command behind his back in a vain attempt to delay his fall     ⸻     but peter’s meagre reward for his efforts is an unceremonious skimming of his knees ‘neath his trousers  ,     dirt - embedded scrapes dusting the heels of his hands like a sudden  smattering  of  stars  in the skies above at the setting of the weary sun as he hurtles to the ground  .     [   there  will  be  no  healing  of  this  particular  wound  ,     you  realise  too  late  ;     no  hope  of  staunching  the  blood       ⸻     not  when  his  eyes  ,       as  the  stone  knife  ,     cut  thin  slivers  into  your  skin  and  prise  your  ribs  open  to  get  at  your  heart  .     maybe  he  ought  to  see  that  your  face  is  little  more  than  a  mask  .     maybe  it’s  better  this  way  .   ]

in a second  ,     fluid rush  ,     the prince rolls them onto their back and  straddles  their  hips  ,     lifting them away from the pillowy earth in his movements to seize their collar  ,     and peter’s cheeks tinge red below their pale skin  .     [   if  he  dares  ask  ,     you  will  go  to  your  grave  swearing  that  it  is  the  fault  of  the  sun  above   &   not  him  ,     restless  moon  .   ]     do  you  expect  me  to  run  forever  catching  up  to  you  ?  ,     caspian asks  .     peter only just catches himself before he can selfishly  ,     unthinkingly say  yes  .     would  it  be  so  terrible  ,     to  stay  by  my  side  ?     

❛   there  is  a  greater  strength  ,     still  ,   ❜     he murmurs instead ,     fingers curling over caspian’s wrist in soothing disruption  .     ❛   it  lies  in  hope  .     if  you  put  your  faith  in  them  ,     your  strength     ⸻       if  you  make  them  believe  that  we  have  a  chance     ⸻     the  rest  will  come  easily  .   ❜     like heavy rain incarnate  ,     the bead of sweat at caspian’s brow bends ‘neath  the weight of his fury and collides with the swell of peter’s cheekbone  ,     but his gaze remains patiently unwavering  .     ❛   the  telmarines  have  the  numbers  .     i   will  not  deny  it  .     but  i  have  never  once  known  fair  narnia  to  balk  at  even  the  most  dire  of  circumstances  .   ❜     [   are  you  with  me  ?  ,     you  had  once  pleaded  .     until  the  very  end  ,     came  the  cry  of  your  people  .     he  ,     you  realise  ,     will  be  the  one  to  save  them  again  .     there  is  nothing  for  you  to  do  now  but  watch  him  rise  ,     the  way  you  know  he  will  ;     the  way  she  tells  you  he  will  .   ]

❛   i  am  not  here  to  take  your  place  ;     the  responsibility  lies  with  you  ,   ❜     peter hedges  ,     tightening his hold on caspian’s wrist ‘till the prince is left with no hope of escaping his clutches without another fight  .     ❛   but  allow  uncertainty  to  enter  your  heart  now     ⸻     allow  yourself  to  suffer  meaningless  distractions     ⸻     and  you’ll  have  lost  the  war  already  .     they  will  believe  this  is  worth  fighting  for  ,     prince  caspian .     but  only  if  you  do  the  same  .   ❜     and  i     ⸻     i  ask  for  nothing  .     give  it  all  to  them  .      all at once  ,     his hand falters  ,     releasing the prince from his desperate grasp  .     ❛   will  you  do  this  ,     for  me  ?   ❜

[petervel]

cc | in the end sacrifice means nothing

(insp.)

[petervel]

ZELDA     ;     hyliacursed·:

           it is a colossal understatement  to declare zelda merely satisfied with the events unfolding,     they are  overjoyed& incredibly relieved.     as high king peter detaches from them entirely     —     increasingly complex footwork all forfeited to his seemingly thinning patience in dealing with zelda’s purposeful affronting     —     well,     they finally feel just as celebratory as the event of which he attends,   knowing they’ve won a battle which supposedly bestows upon the royal highness their well-earned  leisure  from the stuffy evening.

          he’d come here on   ‘ king edmund’s ’  behalf.     of course.      narnia had instead wanted to send their best men to inspire a  lasting impression  on hyrule’s temperamental princess,     & a lasting impression did  high king  peter of narnia make.     “  how have you wronged me?  ”     they ask testily,     uncaring to the dancers in their immediate vicinity now discreetly taking pervasive interest in their quickly tensing exchange.     not even the  promise  of gossipmongers spreading tales of the princess’ tyrannical tendencies     (  of which is unfit for a well-tempered ruler,   surely,  )     has deterred them from arresting high king peter’s soulful gaze like their demeaning stare could  reduce  him into ash.

          “  you’re no different from the rest of them.     while the present was a charming touch,     i’ve had my  fair share  of sickeningly sweet gestures from nobles of various backgrounds     —     enough to recognize a ridiculous,     contrived display of flattery when i witness upon it.  ”     they rummage through the spacious void hidden inside their frock to retrieve the present in question,     pointedly waving it around before peter’s face as if it has  amply evidenced  towards any ill will,     “  it is within my country’s best interests for me to wield at least  half  a mind investigating whether or not you  truly  deserve a wick of my sincerest gratitude.  ”

          they     (  quite characteristically  )     stomp their foot on the marble flooring with an  ire  that holds their temper hostage whilst recalling the details of their uneventful conversation   —   they huff as if such a thing drains them of their very breath,     “  you can’t even  dance,     for one.     you don’t even know the  land  of which you covet.     i presume you don’t even know my  full name.  ”

          “  it’s the royal highness zelda macaire of hyrule   —   if you hadn’t known that,     then how could you,     like all the wily nobles before you,     even  hope  to someday court the princess of hyrule,   much less  take my hand in marriage?  ”

they’re  finally  being  forthright  ,     at  the  very  least  :     peter’s never liked playing games  ,     not ones with missing rulebooks  ,     and certainly not those he has been set up to lose  .     when the relief comes  ,     it is  near - blinding     ⸻     it does not  ,     however  ,     make him lose his way  ;     snow white abandoned in a forest unknown  .

❛   your  hand  in  marriage  ?   ❜     peter repeats incredulously ,     brows knitting together with the evolution of his expression into unabashed bewilderment  ,     set ‘pon a canvas of hard stone as his eyes dance from the leather - bound book     [   wafting  dangerously  close  to  your  nose ,     you  notice   ]     to their highness’s accusatory stare  ;     if he notices the stamp of their foot  ,     he does not react  .     ❛   princess  ,     i’m  gay  .   ❜     it’s the first time he has unclasped his hands   &   shared the secret tucked away ‘tween his palms with anyone other than his siblings     ⸻     the  first  time  he’s  ever  needed  to  ,     really     ⸻     but he feels all the more lighter for it  ,     heart fluttering in his chest like a songbird newly unfettered from the depths of its gilded cage  .     [   this  is  who  you  are  ,     peter  the  high  king  .     you  needn’t  hide  anymore  ;     not  here  .   ]

❛   moreover ,     edmund  is  all  of  thirteen     ⸻     i’m  afraid  to  tell  you  that  neither  of  us  would  make  particularly  suitable  matches  for  your  highness  .   ❜     not for the first time since he’d disembarked onto hyrulian shores from the splendour hyaline  ,     peter is beginning to fear that perhaps words fail     ⸻     but he presses on after a moment of weighted contemplation  ,     fingers closing the distance between them to  dance  o’er  the  spine  of zelda’s makeshift weapon  .     ❛   i’d  like  you  to  keep  the  gift  ,     if  it  would  please  you  ,     but  there’s  clearly  been  some  sort  of  misunderstanding  between  us  :     i’m  not  here  to  take  anything  away  from  you  ,     your  land  least  of  all  .   ❜     [   you  already  feel  as  if  you  play  the  role  of  imposter  in  your  own  pocket  of  paradise  ,     you  think    ⸻     you  would  be  a  fool  to  even  dream  of  taking  another’s  away  from  them  .   ]

there’s  a  contemplative  pause  as he tips his head o’er the edge of the chasm before which the two of them stand  ,     now  ,     as if to measure the length of the impending fall  .     it’s only when the high king finally leaps that he cracks a brief  ,     near - imperceptible smile  ;     the veneers of a soldier giving way to youth once more  .     ❛   perhaps  you  would  have  had  more  luck  tonight  in  inviting  my  sister  .   ❜

[petervel]

i made this gif like four months ago and i still have no clue what to do with it but it’s pretty so i’m forcing everybody to look at it :gun:

[petervel]

loving life rn <3