called_lioness | the joy would break your heart

They fall asleep, and they wake up, and the day is spent loving each other.

(Sometimes this consists of kisses, and sometimes this consists of Caspian bringing her tea, and sometimes it consists of them curling up and her reading a fairy tale, voice soft, and each act means the exact same thing.)

They fall asleep, and wake up, and Sunday is one of the best days of Lucy's life, even if she's not alive, really, and her smile is wide as he wraps his arms around her and pulls her to his chest that night.

And nothing lasts forever.

It's a rock she's sitting on, legs against her chest, as her eyes open, and Lucy breathes deep.

It's only been a night she didn't dream of this place, but she'd already almost forgotten what it was like to have her eyes open.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

sai_delgado

"Thee look well," she says softly, from behind Lucy. "Are thee so?"

From:

called_lioness

It's a deep breath Lucy takes and lets out, and it shakes, a little.

But she's smiling when she turns her head to look at Susan.

"Aye. Well and wed," raising her hand to show Susan the ring, "both. Mayhap the one is due to the other. And you, Susan?"

From:

sai_delgado

And oh, but at the sight of the ring Susan beams, and raises her own hand to brush the golden fall of hair back over her shoulder -- and light glints from her own ring.

(Was it there before, these last days? Who can say?)

Her smile is warm and sweet -- and knowing, oh aye.

"The two things together are very well indeed, say true." A beat, and her smile gentles. "I'm well, Lu."

From:

called_lioness

"I'm glad of it," she smiles, and moves to stand.

It's a moment before she hugs the other girl, on a whim, for oh, Lucy is well indeed, and doubly-well in this place, and there's no way to show her joy, not really, but a hug will do.

From:

sai_delgado

Susan hugs her back tightly, and in that timeless moment the wind rises, tossing their hair together in a bright cloud around them both.

"It's good to see thee."

From:

called_lioness

"It's good to see thee as well, and this place," she says, honestly (and it still feels a betrayal, in a way, to Caspian to say it, but it remains true) and offers Susan her hand.

From:

sai_delgado

She takes it, lacing her fingers with the other girl's, and says,

"Will'ee come, then?"

From:

called_lioness

"Do'ee really need ask?" she asks lightly, and steps forward, only barely surprised at the feel of grass under her feet instead of sand.

(But she can still and ever hear the waves.)

Lucy tilts her head back, a little, and feels the sun--and it's warmer here, and she marvels at it, at the differences she finds herself noticing more and more, while she dreams and while she's awake both--on her face and her smile is wide.

From:

sai_delgado

"Aye," she says, and for a moment she's solemn. "It matters, ye see."

And then the moment's gone, and they're walking up a long, wildflower-dotted slope that leads away from the ocean, which glitters brightly behind them in the sunlight.

From:

called_lioness

"Ah, but Su, there's no other answer to give for me," she says softly, and it's a little wistful.

It's always easier to stay in one place.

It's not always possible, though, whether you like it or not.

"I wish thee might've been at the wedding," she says after a few moments, and it's wistful in a different way.

From:

sai_delgado

"I weren't quite near enough," Susan says quietly, as her hand tightens a little on Lucy's. "I'd have liked to be, say true."

"But I were there all the same, do'ee ken?"

From:

called_lioness

"Aye, I do, and thee's ever there in one way," Lucy says firmly and squeezes the other girl's hand.

It's a year, tonight, since Susan's own wedding.

(paper for the first)

"Perhaps even two," and there's a grin.

Some nights, it is hard to be anything but solemn.

Tonight, it's hard for her to go long without grinning, and she knows it won't last, but oh, how she loves it while it does.

From:

sai_delgado

She laughs, tossing her head, and swings their linked hands.

"At least, I wot," Susan says, giggling, and tugs at her hand. "Oh Lucy, it's so bright, I can't stand to be calm and still-- let's run!"

From:

called_lioness

(it's too much)

Lucy grins and obediently starts to run--and it's easy, really, to go faster than she should have thought possible, with no effort at all.

(and yet, I don't want it to stop)

Grass whips past their feet, but the mountains still seem as far off as ever, and yet--and yet, the voice in her whispers, they're a little closer for all that, and part of Lucy thinks she'll burst for joy with Susan's hand in hers and the air thick with the scent of the sea and green grass and lilies and roses.

From:

sai_delgado

They race along together, and the sound of their mixed laughter spills out like music in this place.

Susan's the first to slow, although she doesn't seem winded.

"I always loved to run like that, ye see," she tells Lucy. "My da' said it were that the moon got into my blood."

From:

called_lioness

"The moon?" She's curious and giggling yet as she looks over at Susan.

From:

sai_delgado

"Aye, the moon," Susan says, and then her fog-gray glance grows briefly distant.

"It were Susannah-Detta showed me what it really meant, though."

From:

called_lioness

"I should like it if you tell me, Su. And why the moon?"

From:

sai_delgado

"Because it belongs to us," she says simply, and oh, but the look in her eyes is not entirely her own now.

(seven for a secret)

"Women's birthright, do'ee ken?"

From:

called_lioness

"Oh, aye," and when she looks up at the sky, it's not as if it's night, but the moon, if she looks hard enough, is still clear in the sky.

(If you look hard enough, you can pick out every star, for all it's day time yet.)

"Aye," she repeats, smiling a little. "Twas one of the things a nymph who was near mother to me taught me, as I grew."

She wonders if it's hers yet, hers or Susan's, really, and her smile fades a little as her hand drifts over her stomach for a moment before falling again to her side. There's no rhythm of the moon that marks her days anymore, not like there once was, no pains or aches or mess.

"--Why did he think it made you love to run?" she asks finally, softly, and hates that here she brings enough with her to make it possible to hurt.

From:

sai_delgado

She shrugs, and holds out her free hand, palm-up.

"There's a wildness and a freedom to it, Lu, do'ee not see it?"

Light glimmers at her fingertips, pallid silver moonlight that shifts slowly, coalescing into a faint globe in the palm of her outstretched hand.

"There's magic in it, too, but not Rhea's sort, for all she were a girl once, too."

Susan's looking down at her hand, and oh, but her smile is fond, so fond.

"My birthright, she said -- all of ours, I wot, but she worried I'd lost my way once."

From:

called_lioness

"In the moon I see it, though in the sun as much." She stops, and it's a long moment before she speaks again, with something else in her voice that's half-remembered. "But it's--it's what comes with it, I think, Su, that was ever freeing for me, the grace in the night. Not even the moon herself, or the lovers smiling down beside her, but--at night, by fire and moonlight, it was ever easier to see the outline of bodies than faces, and the crowns were removed."

Her smile is still something solemn, but it's not gone yet, not at all, as she says, softly, thinking on a million things that are half-remembered, (and when she wakes, many of them won't be remembered even that much), "For all that, I think the sun's our birthright as much as the moon."

The hand in her own is squeezed, slightly. "And had you?"

From:

sai_delgado

"Some, mayhap," she says softly. "Aye, some."

(take back your birthright)

"Not the first time, either." Susan laughs, closing her fingers around the gleaming moon in her hand, and the silver light is absorbed and shines from her skin as she does.

From:

called_lioness

"We all do. But did you find it again?" Lucy asks, softly, and reaches her own free hand out to trail her fingers through the sunlight.

From:

sai_delgado

"Oh aye," Susan replies. "More than once, say true."

There's something almost enigmatic about her gaze as she looks at Lucy.

"Thee'll understand, in time, I wot -- mayhap thee already do."

From:

called_lioness

That gets a laugh, and it's torn the same way a sob can be, though her eyes are smiling, not crying.

"Aye."

And only that, with, "I understand," as she watches the sun again and drops Susan's hand after a moment to hold up her hands as if to cup it.

It's so small, but can fit in her hands.

(so very much bigger on the inside than the outside)

From:

sai_delgado

"For love's sake," she murmurs softly, so softly. "And never count the cost."

From:

called_lioness

Her breath stops at that.

Because it means so many more things than only what it says.

Because for love's sake is the best reason, and because there ever is a cost, and the cost has to be worth what's gained.

And love is worth so very much.

She dropped Susan's hand before, and her hands drop to her sides again, now, as she looks away from Susan and the sun.

From:

sai_delgado

She's very still, looking at Lucy, the two there in the midst of the green-gold field with clouds scattered above them in the bright blue sky.

"I kennit, Lu."

And oh, but her smile is sweet and heartbreakingly bright.

"Where would'ee go?"

Gently asked.

From:

called_lioness

"Home."

And it's whispered without looking back at Susan.

From:

sai_delgado

"Home," she echoes, softly.

Home, the grasses around them whisper just as softly, rustling as the breeze stirs them. Home home home.

"I can't be the one to lead thee there, Lu, though I'll walk with thee." There's true regret underlying Susan's tone.

"Do'ee know the--"

(path)

"--way of it?"

From:

called_lioness

"I did, once," and it's true. Once she did, and once it would have been easy, and there were a million times she thought she was ready to step out the door and into the sun.

But something held her back,

(I want too much)

and now--and now either everything is the way home or nothing is, and she's not entirely certain which is true.

But "once" isn't "now" and there's something like grief on her face as she says it.

From:

sai_delgado

"Oh, don't--" she says, helplessly, and holds out both hands to Lucy as she beseeches,

"Don't take on so, don't, please don't--"

From:

called_lioness

"Hush," she says, quietly, as her face relaxes into something that's only a little sad and a great deal wistful, taking Susan's hands in hers.

It's a moment before she continues, thinking on a previous comment of the other woman's.

"I don't ask you to know when I don't, Su. But home--I've not known the place of it for a while, now, no. Two roads, sister, and I've no clue which has what I seek most at the end, not any more."

From:

sai_delgado

It's a large field that stretches out around them now, with the mountains in the far distance in one direction

(fly to the edge of the world with me)

and the glittering sea behind them in the other. All around them there's the green, green of the grass, dotted with wildflowers. Susan's fingers tighten on Lucy's, and the fog-gray eyes are clear and steady as she says softly,

"Then thee'll have need of a guide, won't thee?"

Green, green grass rustles with the breeze as she speaks -- and then there's something more, as well, off to the side. A large red rock, suitable for sitting, not dissimilar to one that's been seen elsewhere.

Maybe more than one elsewhere.

(other worlds than these)

A white cloud crosses over the sun, and when it moves on, sunlight flashes brightly from something that's lying on the stone.

From:

called_lioness

(give it to the)

Her fingers drift through the sunlight again as Lucy lets go of Susan's hands and drops carefully to pick the object up, cradled in her palms like something precious.

(man? course he's not a man!)

"So you found your way here, too," she breathes to it, but maybe even a compass has a journey it had to make and even if it didn't walk it on its own--well, being carried you travel the same distance.

(and he's not tame, but he's still good)

All compasses point north, but this one doesn't seem to know that, as she opens it carefully to watch the needle.

North east north east north east north east north--north--north--east it goes.

She doesn't know whether to laugh or cry.

Even the damned compass doesn't seem to know which way's home for her.

"No further," she says, without rising or looking up from the arrow that keeps moving between two letters

(Narnia and the North)

"tonight, Su," and the thing is that for all it had been sunlit a bit ago, it's the moon that's shining brightest on the two sets of golden hair now

(to the glistening eastern sea I give you)

as she kneels in the sweet grass. "We'll go further in when I see you next," and it's painful to say, in a way, because she's still on the shoreline, even with the sea behind them, and in this place you can still hurt. That's what she brings with her.

"But not tonight."

From:

sai_delgado

"Not tonight," she echoes, and oh, but her smile is sweet and heartbreakingly sad as well as she looks down at the shining steel in Lucy's hand.

Ever clever was Pat Delgado's daughter, and here in this place --

(a dream and a memory and so much more beside)

-- the Girl at the Window is often wise, as well, and sometimes knows more than she can yet say.

"It'll wait until I see thee again, Lu." With a quick movement, she's stooped down, arms wrapped tightly around the other girl and her golden hair smelling sweetly of sun-warmed grass as Susan hugs her.

"Long days and pleasant nights--"

From:

called_lioness

"And may you have," and it's murmured by instinct as the light fades away and she has to close her eyes again for another day, "twice the number."

Someone once asks, "What need has a Lion for a compass?"

Nothing, is the answer, but a Lioness may have great need of it to find her way home, because sometimes home is your mate, and sometimes--

Sometimes it's not.

And now you know, whether you really wanted to or wish you'd never asked.

Her eyes open slowly, and Caspian is warm and solid at her back, his arm draped across her chest, and she stares for a long while straight ahead at the dim room.

Her fist is clenched around something cool and metal and she slips out from under his arm, making a soothing, quieting noise as he protests in his sleep and promising she'll be back in a moment. The bathroom's tile is as cool under her feet as the metal is in her hand, and she flips the lights on to look at it for a moment, lifting the clasp. East to north to east to north to east again, and Lucy lets out a small sigh of resignation before the compass is shut and put gently in a drawer that has been dubbed hers.

And then she splashes water on her face and goes back to bed, murmuring, "Here I am," and watching Caspian smile as she pulls the covers over them both again. She'll keep no secrets from him. It was a promise, and she'll keep it.

But some things can wait, and this week there are no compasses, and there are no dragons, and when she dreams, she knows, it will be alone, without another girl to hold her hand. Because this week is for him and for her, and dragons and compasses and dreams and choices will all have to come back, but they can wait.

For at least a little while longer.