@ [closed post]

[quote_gentle_unquote]

Susan has been having the dreams with greater frequency, lately¹: Narnia ablaze as the dying stars sink into the sea, giant lizards and dragons ripping every tree and rock from the earth and rending the last of Cair Paravel's ruins into so much rubble, laying all that devastation onto the blaze and then dying themselves as the mountains crumble and the seas rise and leave nothing behind but an empty, starless black.

Nothing, that is, save an open door, and her family standing before it, watching the devastation, and then the door swinging shut.

I've been doing better she tells herself firmly, rising from her bed before the sun has even started to think about peeking over the horizon. The waning moon is hanging low in the sky; the waxing one has already set. She turns on all her lights against the lingering dark and watches them blaze merrily in her vision until she has to glance away, dark spots dancing in their aftermath. She still feels cold as a lifeless, dark world, but at least there's no denying that she isn't in one.

Then, even more firmly, she makes herself get up. She dresses warmly - those thick woolen stockings that join up at the waist (she has since learned they are called tights; the Mansion has been supplying ones lined in a thick, fuzzy material remarkably suitable for winter), a dress similarly appropriate for winter, her woolen coat and leather gloves. Her hair she braids down, not up, so that it's easier to wear a hat against the chill that is resting both deep in her chest and sharp in the morning air outside.

She grabs her longbow and her quiver in addition to the latest of her pile of books - it's good to have contingency plans - but instead of heading toward the range or the woods to seek out a place to sport with Little John, she goes to where she knows Lancelot practices in the morning, stopping only to fill a thermos up with tea. It is, she thinks high time to make good on her threat to watch him.


¹Thanks, Aornis!

Comments

[lanselos_du_lac]

He grins, flushed, and likewise smooths the shoulder of her coat, which is absolutely not necessary. "I am not opposed to outdoors, but not in winter-- and I suppose not if it will bother anyone."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

Susan isn't theoretically opposed, either, but - "SecUnit has delightful little flying machines to monitor for danger in public spaces, and can use them as eyes," she says, still touching his chest, and suggests: "If you'd like, we could go to my rooms. Or yours."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Oh," he pauses for a second to think about the little flying machines. Gideon would like to know about those. But as Susan goes on, his concern for those dissipates and he smiles. "I'm afraid to take thee to my rooms, lest I disappoint thee."

He does nod toward the mansion, though, to indicate that they can walk back. He himself is finally starting to feel the chill.

[quote_gentle_unquote]

Susan collects her bow again, and goes to pull her arrows free of the stump, carefully ignoring the way she feels ever so much colder when she steps away from him. "Why on earth would I be disappointed?"

[lanselos_du_lac]

He laughs, "'Tis very dull. I live like a monk."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"My dear silly little friend," Susan says, stowing her arrows back in her quiver and coming up to take his arm. "I've seen your room."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Oh," He had sincerely forgotten; as Susan knows, that was a bad time. He laughs again, "So you have-- but it's no place to entertain a lady."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

This time, it's with full deliberateness and no small amount of wickedness that Susan says, "You could have the dullest room in the world, with a cock like yours." But she hasn't a preference, truly, beyond that her bed is probably bigger. Perhaps, she thinks, Lancelot's room could use a woman's touch.

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot laughs, flushing, and reaches up to squeeze her hand, "Careful, or thou wilt scandalize me beyond repair. Very well, we shall go to mine. Thou canst advise on how to better my surroundings. Grantaire suggested a plant."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"Oh, I rather think you'll survive," Susan says, very pleased indeed. She sets a path back to the Mansion - now that she knows there's a promising stump out here, she can come back later to scout out the rest.

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Thy tone is very sure," with that jesting tone he uses when he's trying his best to delight her, "Thou know'st me to be a man from long ago, where I'm certain we never used such language."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"Oh, surely absolutely no one," says Susan, doubt dripping from her every word. "I'm a scandalously modern woman, sir. From the first years that anyone dared to be occasionally vulgar."

[lanselos_du_lac]

Mildly he says, "Well. I rather like it."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

A smile crosses Susan's face, unbidden and fleeting, very self-satisfied. "Good," she says, squeezing his arm. And then, since she's in a better mood and they still have a ways to wander before they get back to the Mansion, she returns to an earlier topic. "When I said I was taller, before-"

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot glances over, "Aye? I recall."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"It's actually rather disorienting sometimes," Susan says, quietly. "I think - perhaps my shooting would be more precise, for example, if I didn't consistently have to remember to correct for the fact that... I believe my shoulders might be narrower than they were, in Narnia."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"I can see how that would feel strange," settling his hand over hers as they walk. "But already, thy handling of the bow is better than mine. I think thou hast the strength and frame for it, long or short bow."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"Oh, I'm quite good," she says; there's no point in not acknowledging it. "But it's still rather... frustrating."

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot considers for a moment -- clearly she doesn't need reassurance about her skill, he's just seen her shoot. After a pause he says, "The difference is felt. Is unsettling?"

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"Inconsistently, yes." That just makes it all the more frustrating - the unpredictability of it all. "I might be registering it more acutely today because of the dream."

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot gives her another quick glance. "Hast disturbed thee," he says gently. It's mostly a question. "Is it a familiar dream? A-- usual one?"

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"It's not unusual," Susan hedges. She regrets, a little, bringing it all up; when one discusses things, then they get all churned up and leave one feeling rather exposed. On the other hand, she misses when Ingrid would psychoanalyze her. On the other other hand, this is not the sort of conversation one might wish to embark on when one is trying to seduce a man. On the other other other hand, there's no one she'd rather talk about this with, if she is to talk abot it at all. Susan contains multitudes. "But it's taken a new tone and frequency, since - oh, since Lucy's visit, perhaps."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Oh? Would it help thee to speak on it?"

[quote_gentle_unquote]

Susan wants to be honest with Lancelot, even as she wants to change the topic immediately. "I'm not certain," she decides. "Perhaps, perhaps not."

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot is quiet for a moment. Eventually, in a considering tone, he says, "How might it help, and how not?"