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[called_lioness]

Water and the sea and it's a relief, in a way.

It's almost reassuring.

That fact, Lucy thinks, as she watches the waves roll in, that this place is more reassuring than the waking world--that isn't reassuring at all.

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[sai_delgado]

"It's a comfort to thee, I wot," she says as she walks up behind Lucy, moving to stand at her side.

"Is't not so?"

[called_lioness]

"More than most know or could guess," she admits and glances over her shoulder at Susan.

"How do'ee fare, Su?"

[sai_delgado]

"Aye, mayhap so, but we've never been like most, do'ee ken?" she answers softly.

Susan's smile is gentle and only a touch sad, just for an instant, before she slips her hand into Lucy's.

"I'm well, say true... and thee?"

[called_lioness]

"Aye, well," and it's only a little wry before she looks back at the waves.

"He crowned me," finally, "in their name. It was always my--not secret, for all there knew, but it was something dear.

"Wishing the wedding were here and past. Or at least all were told who need be. Beyond that--as well as I tend to be." The hand is squeezed, a little, as it's taken.

[sai_delgado]

"He's the Lion," she says softly. "The Guardian, it were, in the stories."

(the stories are true)

"When's it to be?" Susan's tone is a little wistful, but more curious.

The waves foam around their bare feet, then draw back, leaving the sand at their toes damp.

[called_lioness]

"So he is." It's a few more moments before she starts to walk with Susan, slowly, some sand sticking to her feet before it falls again.

"The end of the month, I think. We're having some trouble deciding...most of it, really. Or were." She's a little wistful, too, when she looks at Susan, but she also sounds rather amused as she tells her of trying to decide.

[sai_delgado]

She laughs, oh, she laughs, and squeezes Lucy's hand again as they walk.

"I kennit, I do." Susan sounds rueful. "'Bert and I had such a time of it, before we managed it all."

A beat, and then,

"Did'ee know, that were when I first saw ye together?"

[called_lioness]

"No," she laughs, "I didn't. But it was the first he'd ever asked me to do anything with him. Beyond as friends, I mean. So I suppose it's not surprising."

[sai_delgado]

Susan's gentle smile is somehow knowing as she murmurs,

"Nay, not surprising at all."

She laughs again, swinging their linked hands back and forth, and adds,

"It were Caspian who once crowned me, although I'm not royalty like either of ye."

[called_lioness]

"I think, in the end, all are royalty much the same," she says thoughtfully, looking over at Susan with a smile.

[sai_delgado]

"It doesn't matter here, I wot," she replies. "Not now."

The sand is warm beneath their feet, and the water cool as the waves come in. Susan hesitates for a moment, then adds softly,

"Even if mayhap it's how I'm here to begin with, do'ee ken? And thee as well."

[called_lioness]

"Mayhap, Su. Or part."

Her voice isn't as soft, not quite, as Lucy looks ahead and tilts her head a bit towards the sea, like she's listening to a voice only she can hear.

But really, it's just the waves.

"Does it matter?" It's an honest, curious question.

[sai_delgado]

"Not to me," Susan tells her, smiling. "Ka like a wind, I wot."

[called_lioness]

"With that, I'll be content for now."

She's smiling, again, as she looks at Susan.

"If here's where I need be, I'd rather not spend each night alone, and spending it with you is better than most I could spend with."

[sai_delgado]

"Thee need never be alone," she says softly, as the sea-breeze whispers around them both.

"Will'ee come further up--"

(further in)

"--with me?"

[called_lioness]

"You know the answer to that, Susan," she smiles, and walks in silence for several more moments before saying, "But that's not quite right."

[sai_delgado]

"Do'ee say so?"

There's curiosity there, oh aye, and mayhap a hint of nervous caution as well.

But just a hint.

[called_lioness]

"Aye. I'd not have it so, but I think sometimes--I think sometimes you do walk alone. Because if you love another, you won't take them with you everywhere. Or you simply can't."

[sai_delgado]

She's quiet for a moment, but then Susan shakes her head. Golden hair flies around her in a cloud, tossed by the wind.

"But ye do, Lucy," she tells her. "They're always with ye, in a way. Always."

There's a strange gentle certainty to her simple words, oh aye.

[called_lioness]

"I know the way you mean." It's said in a similar tone, but it's a little wistful. "Always with you, but not in all ways, you see?"

[sai_delgado]

"I kennit," she says simply, squeezing Lucy's hand.

It's warm, and as the salt breeze strengthens, just for a moment the smell

(of lilies)

of the sea is rich and clear on the air.

[called_lioness]

"I spoke with the Dream King," she says, after a few moments of them walking in silence.

"Or he spoke with me."

[sai_delgado]

"Sai Dream."

Susan doesn't sound surprised at all to hear this, and oh, but she is smiling.

"He were ever kind to me."

[called_lioness]

"I had only ever spoken with him once before. But he has been kind, yes."

It's a little soft and a little distant, but it's said with a smile as well.

"If you could have stayed, Susan, at a cost, would you have?"

[sai_delgado]

And oh, at this, at this she grows

(ashen)

pale-- even here, oh aye. Even here, in the

(peace of the...)

gentle warmth of the sun-bright beach by the glistening sea, Susan's hand now feels cold, and her steps slow.

"It's hard, to fight ka," she whispers, looking anywhere but at Lucy now.

"I... didn't think I were strong enough, but..."

[called_lioness]

"So I'm learning."

She looks down, for a moment, and then looks up at the sun and the clouds and the sky, head tilted back against the warmth even when her lids drift shut.

"How much is worth it, Susan? When is the price too high, do you think? I don't know any more. I don't know. I don't know if it's worth the fight, even. I only know--I know that it's never too late, and that--I never fought it, in life, and it cost me much. I know those two things, but naught else."

It's not as if she expects an answer.

She just has to say it.

[sai_delgado]

"Like a wind," she says, and the words seem to hang in the air. "Naught can stand against it when it comes, like a cyclone-- so my da' always said."

Susan shakes her head, unhappily.

"Ye could have asked Eddie. He fought it, and won, but oh, the cost, Lu, the cost..."

"Alain didn't ask us to try, and none of us could have stood to be parted from the rest, do'ee see?"

She shouldn't be able to mourn, not here, but there's sorrow clear despite it all.

[called_lioness]

"It's high. I know that, if naught else. I can--feel it, if it makes sense. Mayhap not, but. I think I'm already paying part of it, in a way."

(you change, and you have noticed this)

"I think...it's the sort of thing you only could give without being asked. At least not asked by any who knew what it would cost." And her eyes are still closed, but she doesn't trip, just feels the sun. "I think that's part of why it hurts so."

And even now, it is warm across her face.

[sai_delgado]

Some things need never be said, mayhap, to be understood. It doesn't make them any less clear, or any less true.

"It's hard, I wot," Susan says at last. "Either way, in the end-- at first."

The last two soft words are prayer and promise in one.

(the peace of the clearing)

At first.

[called_lioness]

"Aye."

They walk, and Lucy stops, after several minutes, and looks at the water with pure and simple yearning on her face.

"But you've not answered the question, Su."

[sai_delgado]

Her hand tightens on Lucy's once more, and for several long moments the only sound is that of the waves breaking at their feet.

"I couldn't lose them again," she says, finally.

(ka-tet - one from many)

"None of us could have. And none of us would have ever asked it of the rest."

Even Alain hadn't, in the end.

[called_lioness]

(ka like the wind)

Her smile is brittle, in a way, and fragile.

(he hurts that you hurt)

"Perhaps it's for that reason, then, that I'll pay the cost. But the thing is, Su--the thing is--"

(I want to, and I don't)

"--the thing is," softly, "that I want too much, and ever have, I suppose. Mayhap it's only that." And it's not, but on the shore you can say things that are only partially true.

[sai_delgado]

"Oh, Lucy."

It's understanding, and it's sorrowful, and tears well in the fog-gray eyes.

In the next instant, Susan's turned and thrown her arms around the other woman, hugging her tightly as she murmurs into the bright gold of their hair,

"Say sorry."

[called_lioness]

It's Aslan's Country, in a way.

But it's the shore. And the sun is bright, but here, Lucy can hold back tightly, and here she can do what she won't in the

(shadowlands)

bar and let the tears roll down her face for a few moments, silently, as she says, "Say thankya."

And when she whispers, "I don't want to leave,", she does, in a way, mean the bar.

But she also means this moment, with Susan at her side, and the waves still crashing on the sand.

[sai_delgado]

"I know."

And oh, but it's clear somehow, here where there's naught of real distance between them, that Susan does understand.

All of it.

[called_lioness]

"Say sorry," is the half-laughed, half-sobbed response to that.

Sorry for crying, in a way, but more sorry that Susan knows.

No one should have to know it, really.

[sai_delgado]

"Shhhhh."

The wind picks up the soft whisper and amplifies it, breathing the sound around them both like an echo until there's no telling where it begins or ends.

Shhhh.

Promise and warning and comforting warm breath, all in one, somehow, and everywhere is the smell of

(roses and lilies and a sweet, sweet perfume)

the sea.

And then the breeze fades, and all that's left is the sound of the waves at their feet.

[called_lioness]

She could dive in.

Dive in and swim deep and never lose her breath and never have to surface til she wanted to, and then

(she cast one more lingering, half-fainting glance at the prince, and then threw herself from the ship into the sea, and thought her body was dissolving into foam)

and then

and then

and then

and then, when she did, Lucy knows, it would be on a different shore that's further up and further in, and there would be no guilt for doing so, and none there could judge her harshly.

(I'll never leave you. I promise.)

And yet.

And yet, she moves no closer to the water than she is, with it brushing her feet and Susan's and just sighs, tiredly--and even here, for the moment, she can feel how tired she is--and part of her notes how she can't tell where her own hair stops and where Susan's starts.

[sai_delgado]

"Oh, my dear."

She draws back, finally, but not far-- not far at all, say true. Susan looks at Lucy with a sad, gentle smile, and there's understanding in the fog-gray eyes.

"Will'ee come--"

(and see - come with me - come and rest)

"--further yet?"

[called_lioness]

And it costs her a little bit, she's come to realize, every time she answers this question, but there's still only one way she can answer it, and, she thinks, there only ever will be one way she can.

"Aye. A bit further tonight, Su, I shall."

And there will be other nights, many of them, which they both know, Lucy thinks to herself, as they walk on.

And the mountains will be ever closer.

---

And when she wakes up, to an arm across her stomach and a dragon's wing tickling her nose, there's the sense of loss, the ache, that she's come to expect, and still hurts.