^ [open post]

[quote_gentle_unquote]

Susan doesn't believe in the mansion spirits, but she is being followed by something in a way that makes little sense.

It begins when she wakes up. Opening the drawer to the sideboard in her room to retrieve tea, she finds another gold chess piece wrapped neatly in ribbon. Lancelot didn't put it there - it hadn't been there when she made her pre-sleep cuppa the night before, and she woke up when he did and sleepily saw him off to his training; he hadn't gone near the drawer. She shuts the chess piece firmly away, makes her tea, and dresses blearily for her own archery practice.

There's a new bow in the closet, too. To her pleasure, it's a heavier one that requires a stronger pull - she's quite got used to the draw of the ones the closet first supplied to her.

After her shooting routine, she finds a lipstick in the precise shade Ingrid used to wear on the bathroom vanity. When she's showered and dressed for the rest of her day, she finds her favorite pastry - a sort of breakfast roll she used to get from the shop by the tube station she'd walk past on her way to work, back in London - on a platter in the kitchen.

It's when she opens one of the closets in the hall off the library to return a pile of laundered wash-cloths that she receives both some clarity and a deepening of the mystery: a jumble of assembled balloons tumbles out, made of some queer material and filled with a gas that keeps them afloat. The writing on them reads: HAPPY BIRTHDAY SUSAN PEVENSIE.

She stares at them, perplexed.


Susan's birthday post! Three days (by our reckoning) and eight months (by her reckoning) early! Feel free to have your puppets run into her in any reasonable location at any point during the day; she's just going to be accumulating more Stuff she can't get rid of as the day goes on.

Comments

[lanselos_du_lac]

"That I think I could do," he says, twining some of her hair around his fingers as he gazes down at her. "I should like to have things better between him and I. I think we could be friends."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

Susan allows herself a moment of looking up at him, utterly smitten. "Yes, I believe you could be," she says, when that moment comes to an end. "Perhaps once you're close enough with him to be comfortable with it, we might invite him and Galahad to dinner. And in the meantime - one thought I had was food. That's classic, isn't it? To prepare a meal for someone when they've been having a difficult time? Claudius seems the sort to appreciate a proper jellied eel... though I expect if we were to offer that, we might need to think of additional dishes for Galahad. It does seem inconsiderate to prepare a meal for only half a family, even if it's the half that might need it most, don't you think?"

[lanselos_du_lac]

"I have not had jellied eel, though I have had eel. Does Galahad dislike it especially?"

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"I'm not certain," Susan admits. He's never said so specifically to her. But she's tremendously observant, of course, and he's made a few comments here and there whilst they work together in their laboratory. Also: "I don't believe he cares for fish, and he avoided Claudius's aspic at the wedding. I shouldn't want to risk it."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Perhaps, then, we could consider something to prepare that they both like-- so that they may dine together, no matter what it is."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"Very wise," says Susan, not bothering to hide a smile. "I'm afraid I haven't got a good idea what sort of foods they'd both care to eat. Do you?"

[lanselos_du_lac]

"I know nothing of this," almost cheerfully. "I know what I like, and I have some notion for some of thee, my friends, but anything for Claudius or Galahad would be a guess at best."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"My love," says Susan, with depths of fondness heretofore unknown to humankind. She pokes the shadow of the smile etched into his cheek. "You're so tremendously lucky to have me in your life. I suppose I'll do some digging and find something out."

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot laughs, flushing and glad and equally fond. "Aye, I would be a lost cause, t'were not for thee."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"Utterly useless," Susan teases, curling her hand around the back of his neck and tugging him down - and herself up - for a kiss intended to underscore just how little she means that.

[lanselos_du_lac]

He, unusally, cups her face in both hands to kiss her. He is so happy, and he loves her so well, and this is going precisely as he planned.

[quote_gentle_unquote]

Susan lets herself get lost in the kiss, focusing only on the feeling of Lancelot's lips on hers, and his hands on her face, and his hair at her fingertips. She brings her other hand up to his shoulder, clutching at it. Her heart feels too big for her chest, like Lancelot will be able to feel it pounding through the thin fabric of her outfit.

[lanselos_du_lac]

When he finally breaks the kiss, he doesn't draw back much. He strokes her cheek with a thumb. "Thou'rt perfect," he says softly.

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"I'm ever so pleased you think so," she says, just as softly. Around them, a cacophony of early-autumn sounds arise. Birds and squirrels seek the growing seed-heads of the grasses surrounding the blanket. Crickets chirp; frogs croak. The breeze ruffles the leaves of the nearby trees.

Susan's attention is all on Lancelot. Distantly, she thinks she might've had more to say. But it can wait. Of greater relevance right now is the gladness written all over his face.

[lanselos_du_lac]

The setting is as he hoped it would be, as is the look on Susan's face. She's lovely, yes, but more than that she has come to feel essential to him in a way he would never have guessed when they first met. To see her happy, to see how she's opened up since that time, is a tremendous gift. He is not going to take it for granted.

"I suppose," he says softly, "that we should eat."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"I could eat," Susan agrees, but she makes no move to sit up. Instead, she just shifts enough to stroke her knuckles against his cheek.

[lanselos_du_lac]

His smile is soft, warm. "I would not have thee starve."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"How could I starve, when you surfeit me so?"

[lanselos_du_lac]

He asks, as if this is novel information, "Do I really?"

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"Dear heart," murmuring, "are you scrounging for compliments again? Very well." Susan uses the leverage of their close hold to pull him in for another kiss, unhurried and deep.

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot lets himself chuckle a little, delighted by her, and then sinks into the kiss, tangling fingers gently in her hair.

[quote_gentle_unquote]

When she pulls back, she's breathless, and she drops her head back onto his lap. "Very well," she says, trying to affect an airy tone and only partially succeeding. "You have my leave to feed me the choicest morsels in that basket of yours."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"That's well, since I only brought the choicest items."

He leans over and tugs the basket closer, opening the lid and making a show of considering options.

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"How terribly thoughtful." She makes no move to sit up and investigate, but she is watching him closely. "What have you brought, incidentally?"

[lanselos_du_lac]

"I have grapes and strawberries, cheese and bread, some crisp beans from the garden, and Laertes and I baked handpies with lamb yesterday," brightly. "I also have tea and wine. And chocolate."