(no subject)

[the_seafarer]

It hasn't been precisely uncomfortable, these last few days, but the space between Caspian and Lucy has certainly been a little, well--

Strained.

Still, he kisses her gently before moving to the wardrobe to undress for bed, and his hand still lingers at the small of her back, and he still tells her the small things of the day.

So perhaps the important things have not changed entirely.

Still--strained. Just slightly.

Comments

[called_lioness]

A bit.

Because some things he...

She still can't make him understand, as much as she'd like to.

And it's not exactly silence filling up, but it's a space.

But still, she presses a kiss to the back of his shoulder when he's undressed, and it's gentle and feather-light, and it's only and simply because she loves him, as she listens and slips into her own nightgown.

[the_seafarer]

When he pulls her down into bed with him, he holds her for a moment against his chest, feeling her palms against the bare skin of his back, and they talk for a little while, quietly, about things of little importance.

Still, sometimes, those things are those which are most often clung to. He tries, and he knows that she knows he tries, and he knows he is failing somehow, and it's that which is in his mind as he falls silent, eyes on her hair rather than on her face.

[called_lioness]

It's the same soft sort of kiss she gives his collarbone, for a moment, before she tilts back her head to look at him.

The thing is--the thing is, Lucy doesn't think Caspian is looking at her, not quite, and she can't help sighing and feeling more tired than she was.

She tries.

But she can't quite manage it, as her fingers trace carefully along his back.

For all the things Lucy wants to say, she finds she doesn't know where to start.

[the_seafarer]

"Do you want it back, tonight?" he asks, quietly, and lets his fingers trace along her shoulder and down her arm. He's kept the silver compass for her for a while now, and he has yet to feel easy carrying it.

[called_lioness]

She wants him to not stop touching her, and for the space to not feel so big, and for there not to be any compass at all.

But Lucy is used to wanting too much, and so she merely nods, after a moment, and thinks it must have been wrong, anyway, to ask him to carry something that wasn't meant for him.

come and walk with us a while

[called_lioness]

"Further up," she laughs and tugs Caspian after her.

It's funny, really--with others, she knows she can look and she'll find who she wants, but Susan--Susan is different, and with Susan Lucy knows where she is, and it's simply how it is.

It can't be so far a distance, for they're not running long, nor out of breath, but the cliffs are far behind when she sees another blonde woman running towards them.

[sai_delgado]

Her hair is flying in a golden cloud around her, and Susan (Delgado-that-was) is laughing and excited.

"Lucy! And Caspian-- oh, Caspian--"

It's not proper behavior, say true, but it doesn't seem to matter as she throws her arms around him and hugs him tightly, saying,

"Thee came-- oh, ye're here, thee came, thee came--"

[called_lioness]

She doesn't want to say anything.

She doesn't, she doesn't, and she can't quite be angry here but there's a flash of something that's pain

(why won't you come, why ask me not to ask that of you, why why why)

for a moment. And only a moment before it's acceptance and something of grief as Lucy reaches out to touch golden hair softly, just for a moment, and says, "He did, aye. For the night, Su."

And the part that isn't said after that, the word "only" is still very much there.

[the_seafarer]

(thee never can lose)

It breaks his heart, and heals it at the same time, and he holds out his hands to her

(what thee truly love)

and laughs with pure joy before pulling her into his arms and swinging her into an embrace.

And maybe it's only this night, in Lucy's dream, but Caspian has dreamed this girl before, and he will again.

"I came," he says, and then, more accurately, "Lucy brought me, this time."

[sai_delgado]

"Not the Lion, then."

It's soft with understanding, but her smile doesn't tremble, not here. She slips one arm around Caspian's waist as he sets her back on her feet, and without moving away from him turns her head to look at Lucy, though not so far that the web of golden hair would slip from the other girl's fingers.

"I'm glad to see thee both, any road. So very glad, say true."

and sometimes you walk alone

[called_lioness]

Lucy and Susan's eyes meet, and there's a look that passes between green eyes and grey that's--it's not so much sad as it's mournful, and if sadness is to come, it's not quite yet.

That understanding is in the look, too.

"I'll leave thee to talk," Lucy murmurs, and when Caspian glances at her, a little surprised, she smiles the private smile, like she's a secret even she can't figure out yet, and leans over to kiss his cheek.

"I've promises to keep this night." To herself, if no one else, but Susan she thinks can guess what they are. "And I've seen thee both more recently than either of thee has the other."

There's another look at Susan, and she murmurs again, "I'll be back before the sun's moved much further in the sky," and Lucy turns from them and walks away.

Re: and sometimes you walk alone

[the_seafarer]

She walks away alone, but it is impossible to be lonely in this country, and so Caspian does not worry and turns to Susan to take her by the hands, his eyes traveling over the familiar and, oh, well-beloved face.

"Thank you," first. It has been long and long since he has wanted to say such to her, and he can, and his hands grip hers.

[sai_delgado]

She laughs, a startled ripple of surprise, and beams up at him as she squeezes his hands.

"For what?"

[the_seafarer]

It's a laugh he'd missed, and his own smile grows broader in response to it.

"For not letting her walk alone."

[sai_delgado]

"Oh--"

Susan shrugs a little, still smiling, but there's a hint of some strange knowing in the fog-gray eyes as she says,

"She'd have been well enough if she had, I wot... but I could come, it were allowed, and so I did."

and sometimes being with another is like being with yourself

[called_lioness]

When she comes back, it's with a flower in her hand that she's twirling, a bit absently.

And Lucy--

Lucy is tried, but she greets Caspian with another kiss before murmuring, "And I'll steal her from you, if you would, for a moment or two?"

Because some things can only be put off so long, and he kisses her back, softly, before nodding and letting them walk off together a bit.

"I'd not meant to deceive thee, Su," is the first thing Lucy says, looking down at the flower in her hand.

You walk, and sometimes, when grief is shared between two, it's stronger than if it were your own.

Easier to bear, but stronger.

[sai_delgado]

"I'd not thought you did," she says softly, and very simply. Susan's looking out across the grass, away from the water.

In the distance, the mountains rise to a great height, their color intense against the blue of the sky.

[called_lioness]

"It warranted saying, for all that."

They could run, Lucy knows, the two of the, the three of them. They could run, and wouldn't need to stop, not ever.

"He doesn't wish to come yet," is what she says, finally, and the grief in her voice isn't anything she'll let him hear.

[sai_delgado]

"I kennit."

And it's understanding, and acceptance, and a gentle patience as well.

"In time, though." A second's pause, and Susan glances sideways at Lucy now. "Do thee kennit?"

[called_lioness]

"Aye."

It's understanding, and it's acceptance, and it's patience, but it's also something else.

"But oh, I wish it were otherwise, Su."

and then, of course--as you must--you wake up

[called_lioness]

She doesn't want to go.

Oh, she doesn't want to go, and her eyes still burn from tears shed with Susan, and she almost whispers to Caspian, "Don't make me."

But she doesn't. Instead she takes his hand, as they walk back to the cliffs and look down, for a moment, at the sea again. And then Lucy tugs him down to sit with her and says, quietly, "Close your eyes."

---

It's funny, how the only way to wake up here is to close your eyes.

But it makes sense, she thinks, too.

And Lucy is so tired, as she moves and brings him with her, and she's too tired, in a way, to fight all the battles she had been (without realizing, some) any longer.

And she does the only thing she can, because of that.

She just lets go of what's easiest and accepts.

---

He's still held tight against her in bed, and the compass is still in the nightstand, when awareness begins to kick back in.

Re: and then, of course--as you must--you wake up

[the_seafarer]

His arms are tight around her, and this is a deep sleep that he's swimming up out of, but after a moment of movement and eyes moving behind closed lids, he shifts against her, and opens his eyes, blinking blearily.

It's still dark in the room, and hard to see with eyes that had grown used to the gilded morning at the Eastern Edge of the world, so he blinks, and levers himself up onto an elbow.

Re: and then, of course--as you must--you wake up

[called_lioness]

She doesn't open her eyes, though she's not quite asleep any longer.

Still, she feels--she feels as if she could fall back to sleep for a thousand years and it wouldn't be enough.

(everything has a price, the man said)

Lucy can't quite help groaning, a little, when he shifts away.

It had been comfortable.

Re: and then, of course--as you must--you wake up

[the_seafarer]

He can't help but smile a little at that, and moves carefully down, lying back against the pillow and closing his eyes again.

There are chores to be done, horses to feed and exercise, and he seems to have fewer employees these days than ever, but--

He lets his eyes close, anyway, and slips an arm under Lucy to pull her to him, sleepily.

Re: and then, of course--as you must--you wake up

[called_lioness]

"Don't g'way," is the mumbled greeting he gets into his shoulder.