(no subject)

[called_lioness]

It's easier, now, in a way. Or something like it.

When she closes her eyes, she doesn't think of it as sleeping any more.

It's more like being totally, completely awake.

---

The beach again. No Susan, yet.

But she knows (she knows without questioning how) that Susan will show up in time.

It takes her a moment to realize she's sitting on the sand, and the water's soaking her and rushing around her skirts, and the knowledge makes her laugh as another wave hits her. She turns around, a little, to face the land, and her body serves as a shelter as, without thinking, her hands start to play with the wet sand.

She knows she could never make a castle like this with just her fingers and sand and water.

She does anyway, and as she hears the silent-sound (and somehow she hears it anyway, and that too makes her smile) of footsteps, she's adding the last tiny window, and thinking she can (almost) see a girl through it, sleeping on a bed.

Probably it's just almost, anyway.

Comments

[called_lioness]

"Aye. At least a while longer. I sleep hard of late, and the dream won't be over for a while yet," with a half-smile as she takes the hand and stands.

[sai_delgado]

"Then come with me, an'ye would," she says, "and we'll walk on together, say true."

With that, Susan draws Lucy gently onward through the screen of the willows and away from the stream. Together, the two of them move across the sweet-smelling grass of the Drop and back down the gentle slope to the seashore.

Their silver footprints are still there, and it's easy to pick where they left off before.

[called_lioness]

She looks back, and for all the waves continue to crash, she can see the footprints back into the distance.

It's farther than she'd thought.

And they'll go farther yet.

It's not intimidating at all, really, for all there's that edge that's a little bit sharper at moments, a little more real--a little more This can't be possible, this isn't the way it works, if she listens to it, and a little harder not to, a little more like the waking world.

For now, though, there's just the waves, and Susan's hand in hers, until there's that moment when she murmurs for them to stop and lets the hand go as she sits on the beach and closes her eyes

---

and opens her eyes, slowly, to the familiar ceiling and room.

It's a moment as Lucy says, "It's only a dream," softly, hoping Caspian won't hear in his sleep, and tries the way the words taste in her mouth, grimacing a bit.

Lying never sat with her well.