and it only goes to show that lucy is everything edmund isn't, because ever since they left--came back, which is worse?--he has found himself more black-eyed and defeated than the worst battles he'd ever fought. he closes his eyes and every time he hears the cries of capillaries and arteries and veins singing the glory of king peter the magnificent before that royal fist ruptures them into silence (a moment of silence for the dead, there is no high king in england). and every time, lucy comes out after him, wraps her thin arms around him tight and whispers the old narnian lullabies in his ear. edmund tries to let himself be soothed but mostly he just remembers the old lucy, the person she was or will be, how her 'i love you's are always the most mundane, the easiest, the most expected, but she says them with the same ferocity that she wields a dagger and they always leave you breathless. it takes him an embarrassingly long time to realize that she hasn't changed at all.


ahaha, i am wayyyy long-winded. my favorite words are 'warm' and 'sleep' and 'sun' and i am very obvious about it.