^ [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]

Lancelot laughs, "Thou needst not. And everyone has missed it, as I've mentioned it to none that I can think of."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

Primly, Susan says, "I hold myself to a different standard."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Of course thou dost."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"Surely I might've sussed it out somehow," she teases. "And by my internal calendar, it's nearly June anyway." She smiles brightly at him. "All the more reason, then."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"I see I cannot stop thee," light and amused.

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"You absolutely cannot. Though be warned: I haven't the faintest idea how I might surpass this, so perhaps I shan't even attempt it." Surpassing, that is; Lancelot shall get multiple gifts.

[lanselos_du_lac]

"I am pleased to know I have exceeded thy expectations," grinning. He pulls a small velvet bag from the basket. "Perhaps I should keep this in reserve for some time that I have erred."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"No!" says Susan, who does (it must be said) make grabby hands toward the bag. "I should like my birthday gift, please and thank you."

[lanselos_du_lac]

Because he can't resist, he dangles it out of her reach for a moment. But then he takes her hand and places it there gently. "I am not very good at getting the spirits to give me what I am asking for -- nowhere near so capable as thou art. But I thought on thee, and tried... a few times. And I hope that this is to thy liking."

In the velvet bag, Susan will find a necklace¹. It is understated, and just the right length to provide a good accent should she be wearing a dress with the appropriate neckline.

^{1: The key difference is that the primary gem is not a garnet, but a star sapphire. This is because the typist could not find an example that matched the desired necklace closely enough.}

[quote_gentle_unquote]

Susan studies the necklace for a long few moments, turning it over in her hands, holding it up and judging its length and its suitability for most of her clothes. It's lovely, precisely the style she prefers, and she's tremendously touched.

Then she decides, to Hell with the food between them. She moves the picnic basket out of the way, setting her cheese-and-bread sandwich on its lid and propping the open bottle of wine carefully against it, and then climbs into Lancelot's lap, wrapping arms and legs alike around him, drawing him in for a deep, delighted kiss. "Go on then," she says, when she finally breaks it, pressing the necklace into his hand. "Put it on me."

[lanselos_du_lac]

He smiles at her, bright and some sort of relieved and very happy. "Of course, lady."

Difficult as it is to not simply kiss her, he takes the necklace and very deliberately, very carefully, places it, working the clasp with a little bit of effort.

[quote_gentle_unquote]

When the pendant rests against her cleavage, Susan glances down. "I believe that's very becoming," she says, unlatching one of her arms from behind him just long enough to touch the stone. "I love it. Thank you."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Thou'rt welcome," he's flushed and beaming. "It suits thee just as I had hoped."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"A great many things suit me, but I do believe you've got an eye for what might look best." Susan touches the stone again, and then leans in for another kiss. Her hand gets trapped between their bodies with the movement, but she shan't let that stop her.

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Everything looks well on thee," he murmurs, then returns the kiss, sweet and elated.

[quote_gentle_unquote]

It's a terrible line, the kind that would absolutely make Janet cackle out loud. Susan knows this before she says it. But she doesn't mind. Against Lancelot's lips, she murmurs, "You look best on me."

[lanselos_du_lac]

His fingertips drift along the back of her neck, "Lady, thou givest me too much glory."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"I disagree."

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot smiles at her, then draws her in for another kiss.

[quote_gentle_unquote]

And Susan falls in, clutching at him, pulling him as close as he physically can get. She may have satiated some of her physical hunger with the pie and the berries and the cheese, but she feels ravenous just the same. Ravenous, and buoyantly light. Outside of family exchanges and the clumsy attempts of the odd one-time assignation attempting to make a case for a repeat experience back in London, she's not been on the receiving end of a great many gifts before, and as it turns out, she rather likes the combination of an experience and a physical token. She's so tremendously, tremulously happy in a way she once thought would be impossible forevermore.

And she hadn't realized, back when she was so studiously trying to determine the nature of her feelings for him, that the decision she did, in fact, love him wouldn't be the end of it. She hadn't realized that feeling would grow in intensity, or would age like a fine wine, with new flavors to discover over time. Perhaps she ought to have known, but in truth she's a little overwhelmed by it - by the ferocity of her care for this wonderful, thoughtful, gorgeous man.

The tent and its bedroll is just a few paces away. Susan does not suggest they move to it. She's far too preoccupied with the kiss, and with working her hands under his cardigan so she can feel the bare skin of his back.

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot slides one arm tight around her waist, keeping her close, and sets his other hand lightly at the side of her neck. He is so glad he has gotten this right; he has wished he can somehow show her exactly how much he appreciates all that she does for him, despite the fact that he isn't good with words. He knows how smaller gestures can convey some of the depth of that care, love, gratitude. She has given him so much, has helped him so much -- to understand himself, to begin to heal, to let down his guard a bit and learn how to be close with people.

Since he isn't sure he can say it well enough, he instead pours all of that into the kiss, into his attention and focus on her nearness.

[quote_gentle_unquote]

If she knew Lancelot's thoughts in this moment, Susan would laugh, incredulous. He gives her so much every day, and the only times she finds his communication murky is when he doesn't know, himself, what he's feeling.

Still, she does feel particularly treasured today. His hold on her is firm, the way she likes it, but his touch is gentle, like she's something precious. In some of their points of contact, she can feel his racing heartbeat; it's pounding nearly as hard as her own. He tastes like the pies he made her, and he's solid under her hands, the skin of his back warm and soft. The necklace he got her presses between their chests as she draws him closer still. Into the kiss, she smiles.

[lanselos_du_lac]

"So," he murmurs, after quite a long while. He is flushed and smiling and just a little bit mussed. "I believe thou'rt pleased with thy birthday?"

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"Oh, thoroughly," she says, breathlessly, still peppering his face with little kisses. "You've truly made me come around on the idea."

[lanselos_du_lac]

He laughs, "Well then, we shall continue to observe thy feast day."