@ [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]

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?"

[quote_gentle_unquote]

Susan ponders this for some time as they walk. They're nearly to the lake again by the time she says, "Psychoanalysis would suggest that speaking about it, especially to someone trained in identifying, contextualizing, and counteracting resistances, would ultimately yield benefits such as reducing or altogether neutralizing whatever neurotic anxiety is serving as the foundation of these dreams." It must be a neurotic anxiety, rather than a realistic or a moral anxiety; she can't fathom how dreams of Narnia's ending would come from anything but her id.

Then, ruefully, and with an ironic sort of edge to her voice, she acknowledges, "Intellectualizing this is a defense mechanism and likely a resistance. Ingrid would lecture me. I rather think, though, that if I put all this in a little box and put that box neatly away, and do not look at it or touch it, then surely it should stay there and not bother me again."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"As thou know'st, I am not trained in any such thing," letting his tone turn wry momentarily. He once again sets his hand over hers on his arm, and looks away while he convinces himself to say what he feels he should say.

More quietly, and after a little internal struggle, he says, "A defense mechanism, yes. Resistance, yes. I cannot lecture thee, however, because thou art, in this I think, as I am. If I am very careful, things just... carry on. I need not feel-- whatever is painful. In a little box sounds right."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

Susan glances sharply at him, up and sideways. She moves her other hand on top of his. "Precisely," she says; it is her turn to sound wry. "Why process when you can instead compartmentalize and distract?" This is not intended as a joke. She's still very intent on the distraction they're actively walking toward; this turn in their conversation has cooled little of her ardor.

But then, as they round the lake again and the Mansion comes into full view before them, Susan confesses, "If you asked it of me, though, I would speak on what you would hear. I find that I..." wish to be open with you.

[lanselos_du_lac]

He looks down at her, his expression soft and complicated. "Go on," he prompts.

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"My dear sweet friend, I... I would be open with you."

[lanselos_du_lac]

He gives her a small smile, soft and still complex. He presses his shoulder against hers briefly. "That's well. That makes me glad. So I would with thee-- I would tell thee anything, an thou ask't of me. And I would hear anything it was thy wish to share. But I'll not force, particularly if it will make thee sad or distressed. I understand the little box."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

If Susan were in more playful mood, she might ask Lancelot some off-the-cuff questions at that. "I'm curious what questions you would ask," she admits, instead. She wants to tell him things. Not necessarily about this, but - generally.

[lanselos_du_lac]

He lets his tone turn lighter. "Of what thy life was like, before here. How thy days were spent, what pleased thee. I would know what thou wast like, younger, either before or during thy queenship. As much of thee as there is to know."