Susan Pevensie (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
quote_gentle_unquote) wrote2025-05-24 06:05 pm
quote_gentle_unquote) wrote2025-05-24 06:05 pm
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This post is backdated to the first day of Dark!
The first morning of Dark dawns clouded and cold, a ferocious wind howling past Susan's windows.
But her schedule shan't wait for nicer conditions. She's been inventorying and re-inventorying the supplies she and Tress put away — a surplus even if their population should swell considerably, but there are the individual taste preferences of residents to account for, and little surprises to tuck away in the event that anyone might be having a bad day. She's posted announcements here and there throughout the Mansion about where to find particular resources, including hand-delivering invitations to Lan Wangji and - yes - even the angel, explaining that she's got several varieties of tea stowed away in the parlor that has become part of her suite of rooms, should they run out. Some of the supplies she's lain away were provided by the Mansion; many preserves (fruit, vegetables, cheeses, fish, sausages, and so on) are ones she and Tress prepared across the course of the year, with aid from friends and neighbors. There are general stores available for all, and also pockets specified for particular individuals based off what she knows about their tastes. These latter stockpiles she's edited, again and again, as new people arrive and some individuals leave.
Last Dark, Sagramore and Laertes hadn't even had their little cottage by the lake. Now their home is brim-ful of family - and she's got the sense that their preference is to be able to host any friend who might wander their way in search of a meal, as well. Naturally, she'd like to enable that. At least much of her rejiggering of the size of their allotment was precipitated in early autumn by their visitors, when there was still ample time to easily make adjustments to the variety and volume of the goods earmarked for them. Still, there's more food than she could possibly carry over by herself, even with use of a wagon.
("You'll help me, won't you?" she'd asked Lancelot late last evening, curled up on his lap as they sat on the couch, the throw blanket pulled up over both of them in a facsimile of propriety and as protection from Regina's sharp little claws, the book she'd been reading aloud cast off to the side. His fingers stroking through her hair were gentle, distracting. "Neither of them has approached me about the signs Tress and I posted, and I shouldn't want them to go without just because they've not seen them." And of course he'd agreed to help her take over supplies after his morning training.)
Since she's got a very full day ahead, though, she takes the first bit over herself whilst Lancelot is still out. It's rather early still (but not so early as to be rude), and behind the clouds the sun has just risen past the new mountain. The wagon, full of what she imagines must be early essentials (coffee, sausages, fruit preserves, canned vegetables, and plenty of flour, sugar, and oil), drags through the snow, wheels catching on some frozen furrows of mud by the Mansion's door and as the path veers closer to the lake and then away again, but she makes it to their door unscathed. Once there, she squares her shoulders, wipes away the tears brought forth by the sharp frigidity of the wind, and knocks.
The first morning of Dark dawns clouded and cold, a ferocious wind howling past Susan's windows.
But her schedule shan't wait for nicer conditions. She's been inventorying and re-inventorying the supplies she and Tress put away — a surplus even if their population should swell considerably, but there are the individual taste preferences of residents to account for, and little surprises to tuck away in the event that anyone might be having a bad day. She's posted announcements here and there throughout the Mansion about where to find particular resources, including hand-delivering invitations to Lan Wangji and - yes - even the angel, explaining that she's got several varieties of tea stowed away in the parlor that has become part of her suite of rooms, should they run out. Some of the supplies she's lain away were provided by the Mansion; many preserves (fruit, vegetables, cheeses, fish, sausages, and so on) are ones she and Tress prepared across the course of the year, with aid from friends and neighbors. There are general stores available for all, and also pockets specified for particular individuals based off what she knows about their tastes. These latter stockpiles she's edited, again and again, as new people arrive and some individuals leave.
Last Dark, Sagramore and Laertes hadn't even had their little cottage by the lake. Now their home is brim-ful of family - and she's got the sense that their preference is to be able to host any friend who might wander their way in search of a meal, as well. Naturally, she'd like to enable that. At least much of her rejiggering of the size of their allotment was precipitated in early autumn by their visitors, when there was still ample time to easily make adjustments to the variety and volume of the goods earmarked for them. Still, there's more food than she could possibly carry over by herself, even with use of a wagon.
("You'll help me, won't you?" she'd asked Lancelot late last evening, curled up on his lap as they sat on the couch, the throw blanket pulled up over both of them in a facsimile of propriety and as protection from Regina's sharp little claws, the book she'd been reading aloud cast off to the side. His fingers stroking through her hair were gentle, distracting. "Neither of them has approached me about the signs Tress and I posted, and I shouldn't want them to go without just because they've not seen them." And of course he'd agreed to help her take over supplies after his morning training.)
Since she's got a very full day ahead, though, she takes the first bit over herself whilst Lancelot is still out. It's rather early still (but not so early as to be rude), and behind the clouds the sun has just risen past the new mountain. The wagon, full of what she imagines must be early essentials (coffee, sausages, fruit preserves, canned vegetables, and plenty of flour, sugar, and oil), drags through the snow, wheels catching on some frozen furrows of mud by the Mansion's door and as the path veers closer to the lake and then away again, but she makes it to their door unscathed. Once there, she squares her shoulders, wipes away the tears brought forth by the sharp frigidity of the wind, and knocks.
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There's a knock at the door though, and Sunny immediately jumps out of Far's lap, scattering First Quigley and Second Quigley and her creepy doll and her half-gnawed wooden duck onto the floor. "I get it! I wanna get it!" she says as she runs to the door, the gentle thudding of her feet muffled by the thick house socks with grippy bottoms she's wearing. She wipes her runny nose on her arm before she reaches uuuuuuuuup to the doorknob to open the door, and is face to face -- or rather face to knees, with "Susan?"
Why is Susan here? With a wagon of groceries? "You went grocey shopping?"
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"Pickles, tinned vegetables and fruits, preserves, sausages, coffee, flour, sugar, fat - I've only brought the essentials. And a batch of digestives. Sunny, you still like the sort of things you can sink your teeth into, yes? --Lancelot shall be along with the rest when he's done training," she tells Laertes and Sunny, doing some quick mental calculations. She has got time to visit for a little while, even with all of her other tasks for the day, and Lancelot already knows he oughtn't expect her at the cafe at their usual time. Everything else aside, she doesn't want to stand in the doorway. It's beastly cold out, and she shouldn't want all the heat to escape. "It does smell heavenly in here. It wouldn't be an imposition, given the month?"
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Indeed, if Susan steps in a little further, she'll see the shelves that she'd helped to assemble all those months ago are now filled with glass jars and burlap sacks; there's cereal and dried pasta, flour and yeast and sugar (white and brown), olive oil and vinegar, beans and peas and lentils of eight or nine different varieties, dried fruits and nuts, powdered milk, and even a capacious canister of kibble for Szarka. Preserved meats and dried herbs hang from the ceiling, along with waxed cheeses roped in little nets.
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"Jesu, look at all of this! Susan, this was so kind of thee."
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That said, it will be obvious to her fathers that there isn't any alcohol in the wagon - and there shan't be in Lancelot's load, either. Of course Susan has a supply in the Mansion, but after her conversation with Sagramore in the bar, she thought it best not to include any with the delivery.
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Her second concern is with Susan deciding to bring them groceries at all. Well, less that she brought them groceries -- Sunny supposes that's a nice thing to do for someone -- but that she didn't seem to realize until right now that Sunny's whole family have also been preparing for winter. They've only been working on things since forever! It's not like Susan doesn't go outside, she's outside somewhat regularly! Did she not see their garden? Or see them carrying things back to the house from the mansion in the little wagon? Everyone in her family is super great at preparing! They're the preparedest!
Ugh.
Sunny doesn't say anything to Susan, she just picks up her toys and starts heading for the room she shares with Phelia. "I go play by myself," she explains.
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