called_lioness | (no subject)

(no subject)

She's brushed Corella more than is strictly necessary, and spoiled her yet again with an apple, and even taken her out for a bit.

(Lucy likes riding bareback, and she thinks Corella would hate a saddle. If you asked her why, she'd have no good answer for you, but she still thinks it's true.)

And now she's just laying on some hay, because it's rather nice in the stables, familiar, and it's not a bad place to be alone with your thoughts.

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He stiffens, rather, and his voice is as stiff as he says "if you've advice as to what you think I should do, in specific rather than general terms, Lucy, I should be quite happy to hear it."

"Go see her."

"And do what?"

"That's rather up to you. But you're twenty years of age by one count and thirty-five by another. You're more than old enough to face your nightmares. So stop bloody hiding."

She's right, of course.

And she's hardly the only one who's said the same, in whichever words.

But of course it's hardly pleasant to hear so many people say the same thing, and perhaps that's why -- when he'd already nearly decided he needed to do so anyway, at a time of his own choosing instead of waiting for Jadis to find him again, or waiting until such time as he came upon her by chance -- perhaps that's why all he does is pull away enough that he can bury his face in his hands for a long moment, before pushing them back through his hair and standing.

"I need to finish caring for Rachât," he says, dully. "I'll-- I'll find her. By the week-end."

It's strange, and no small amount painful, to find that while he does not blame Lucy for this he is angry with her. He's reasonably certain she doesn't deserve his anger, but that's not making it fade.

"Edmund--" and this is where Lucy always says she's sorry, when they've had conversations like this, except.

Except she's not.

She's annoyed and angry and tired, but she's not sorry.

So his name hangs there, because there's nothing to actually follow it up with.

He smiles a little anyway, if not very much.

"Goodnight, Lucy," he says, quietly, and absently pats Corella's shoulder, and turns and disappears in the direction of Rachât's stall.

Lucy lets out a slow breath as she flops back on the hay, staring at the ceiling.

"Goodnight, Edmund," softly, even if she doubts he can hear her.

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