called_lioness | (no subject)

(no subject)

Lucy's curled up in a pile of leaves.

She's still, mostly, in a grand mood, which is what really must be the case when one's husband has stopped, as she puts it, "being stupid," and when there's a mug of hot chocolate to warm you on a cool day, and when even though you're not sleeping all that much more you find you're not as tired as you were a week ago.

So she can curl up in the leaves and look at the clouds, as Corella's been cared for, and hum to herself a little.

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"Fine. Shan't. You get to say that because you're you, after all, don't you?" she grumps and crosses her arms.

So unfair.

"I get to say ... nevermind? Because I'm me? So far's I know, letting a subject drop is the choice of anybody able to discuss a subject."

"Fine," she says again.

She was in such a good mood, and he just had to come and kick her and now it's ruined.

"You're right, of course."

"I am?"

He's not actually, at this point, quite sure what he's right about.

"Yes. Of course." Her smile's bright. "Anything else?"

Eeeeverything is fine here.

Carefully --

"You haven't been knitting, have you?"

"---Well, it is getting cold again," she answers, deciding Adam's gone off his rocker entirely.

Right. Adam's the crazy one.

"Lucy."

That's exactly what she thinks.

"Adam."

"Have you been having more dreams?"

Blank, blank stare. "Well, a bit."

Oddly, she's more tired in her dreams than she is awake, and not so--inclined to laugh, maybe?

But it's hard to be worried, because really, it's a dream, even if it's something else, too.

"Anything you feel the need to... talk about?"

He's getting eyed.

A lot.

"...Why?"

Because you're acting disturbingly strange.

"No reason."

She sighs and flops back in the leaves.

"You're so queer today," he's informed.

"M'queer every day."

It's said as an off-side, even as he's paying attention to other things, deeper things, shaking his head in confusion, and frowning.

"Does Alanna know?"

Yes, she's smirking, a little.

"'course she knows."

Conversation, rote, give an answer, ask a question, smile politely.

"Oh, good," she says cheerfully.

That's it.

"Maybe you should take a nap, Lucy."

"Why? I actually have energy for once, why waste it? It won't last," and it's a bit wistful.

I'm worried about you.

But that's not worth the energy of the words.

"Just a thought."

"I'm tired of sleeping," she says, and it's a little wistful, still, and it's softer, and maybe because it's not directed with irritation it just sounds honest beyond that.

Adam nods, and sighs, and he doesn't know what to say, because now his head hurts, and he settles down into the leaves.

She doesn't want to sleep

(oh, let me wake up)

ever again, really, if she could just get away with it. As it is, she looks up at the clouds and then over at him.

"...Sorry I snapped at you," and it's shy and sheepish, cause she knows she did, she does, and she didn't mean to, even though it's entirely his fault because he kicked her.