@ [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!

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[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot looks over at her, taking this in for a long, quiet moment. Eventually he says, "It is very striking, but-- I think not for my room."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"I shall take it," Susan says, firmly, and starts rolling it up. "There was one rather like it that I quite liked in the house we stayed at in Tashbaan, before the visit went sour. I was always sorry to have left it behind."

[lanselos_du_lac]

A little, searching look, "It doesn't cause thee grief?"

[quote_gentle_unquote]

Susan, on her way to shrugging off the question, catches sight of Lancelot's expression, and turns instead to lean against him. With a sigh, she admits, "No more than anything else, I think."

[lanselos_du_lac]

He strokes her shoulder, says softly, "Ah. That is why I would think to... put it elsewhere."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

She melts into the touch. "I just... can't believe that anything from Narnia could be here," she explains, and then straightens up so that she can continue rolling the rug into a tight cylinder. "Narnia's gone. And yet there's a Tarkaan rug?"

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot considers his words for a moment, watching Susan roll up the rug. Eventually he says, "This place-- there are many doors or portals that bring... things, mostly. People, I suppose, sometimes. It seeks, for whatever reason, to answer what we would like most to have. I come from a time before... before Galahad was even born. Things may come from any time, it seems. I think it cannot give us who we want, but it can give us, sometimes, things we want, even when we know not that we want them."

A pause. "None of us knows how or why. But perhaps it can bring these things in, to help thee feel more..." He stops, because he knows she doesn't necessarily feel at ease, or perhaps even glad, about any of this.

[quote_gentle_unquote]

Susan nods. "Very wise, sir," she says, setting the rug to the side once she's done rolling it. "It's rather queer, though, that after the dream I had last night, the rug should be here."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"When one... asks for something. It needn't be out loud, yes?"

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"No, I don't believe so." Susan blinks at him. "Do you think -?"

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot turns to reach for one of her hands, "Sweet-- If thy dreams are strong ones, then perhaps--"

[quote_gentle_unquote]

As she threads her fingers through Lancelot's, Susan runs her other hand over the edge of the rug, wonderingly. "Well!" she says. Part of her wonders what other Narnian things she might find tucked away here and there. Another part thinks she might tell Lancelot more: of Narnia, and Calormen, and particularly of the mess with Prince Rabadash.

She sets those parts aside. "Have you spotted any that look suitable for your rooms?" she asks.

[lanselos_du_lac]

His gaze on her holds for a moment more before he turns away to survey the other rugs, keeping her hand tight in his. There is one that is more of a blue and silver combination -- classically Persian with something that reads to Lancelot like a floral motif -- and he draws her nearer to it.

"This I like. It has liveliness, and the colors I like." His other hand reaches out to test the feel of it.

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"It suits you."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Mm," mildly, with a little smile, "but does it suit thee?"

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"I think it will look lovely in your room," Susan says. "I like it."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Then this one I shall take."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"I haven't found rooms dedicated to artwork yet," Susan says then, though she's half-convinced it's only a matter of time. "Just a few things tucked away here and there. But this, I think, is a good start."

A few other thoughts cross her mind as she says this - that she wants Lancelot to feel settled here, and happy; that he needn't worry if his rooms suit her so long as he is happy with them; that she wants him to be able to take as much comfort from his space as she does from him. Too, she is finding, increasingly, that she wants him to know her. That's less relevant to decorating his room, but pertinent to the day she's having. From the onset, she'd frankly thought it might be a wash. But it seems to be turning out less dreadfully than it otherwise might've?

She doesn't voice any of these thoughts, of course, but she does give his hand a little squeeze.

[lanselos_du_lac]

"I agree," squeezing her hand back, "A good start. I shall carry both of these for us."