she coughs and hands the spliff to edmund, who still has the "i'm not sure this is a good idea" look on his face.
"ben and i have smoked here loads of times before," says lucy, a bit hoarsely. "we never get caught."
"there's a first time for everything."
"take it, you pussy."
"don't call me a pussy." but edmund takes it anyway, puffs on it like peter and lucy taught him years ago. his eyes water and he hands it back amid coughs. lucy shoves the water bottle into his hand. edmund and susan are marathon coughers, and lucy has learned to not light up with them without some beverage handy if she can help it.
the woods are quiet except for the coughing and the leaves rustling, and lucy and edmund wend along a path passing the spliff back and forth as her eyes felt fatter and fatter and her head became fuzzier. the sunlight through the trees is even more beautiful with the onset of autumn, and it filters down to them in shades of gold, and it's like some fantasy world, almost. like she is an adventurer on a quest, her loyal sidekick beside her as they seek out, like, some jewel, or magic scepter or something. the salvation of her kingdom. her heart aches with the thought of it, of being in another world where the only thing you have to worry about is witches and dragons and destined wars. you know how to be a hero in situations like that, she thinks. you know who's good and who's bad, you know who to fight. it's in peacetime when things become muddled.
they finish the spliff and lucy cries out when edmund throws it on the ground to grind it under his shoe. "don't!" she exclaims, and picks it up. she puts it out against the trunk of a tree and puts it in the pocket of her jacket. "it's littering. and what if the forest catches fire?"
edmund laughs at her for that, but she doesn't care.
the wind is blowing colder now, and harder, and she wishes she brought along a thicker coat but adventurer lucy probably won't whine about things like that, so she doesn't either.
"are you cold?" edmund asks.
"a little."
"you're shivering."
lucy shrugs.
the path emerges onto a rocky ledge, not a very tall one, and it splits in two downhill and you can take either one because it'll join up again at the bottom. beyond the ledge, more trees, swaying with the wind. it looks like dancing, and it makes lucy's heart ache with possibility and alternatives. she sits at the ledge and lets her feet dangle, ignoring edmund's insistence that she would fall off. a few seconds later, edmund joins her at her side.
"you think it would be easier, in another world?" lucy asks, seemingly apropos of nothing.
edmund looks at her, and his eyes are very red. "what's easier?"
"i don't know. everything. mistakes. life."
"there are mistakes in every life."
"that's not what i'm asking."
"it sounds like it is. like." he stares at the trees thoughtfully. lucy waits. then he says, "you only know this life, you know? you can't compare this life to another, 'cos even if you're, like, in that other life, you won't know what this life is like and you'll think that life is just as hard."
lucy says, "i'm worried about susan."
"is that what this is about?"
"no. partly."
"is this about ben?"
"i don't want to talk about ben."
"okay."
and then they are quiet again, each in their own thoughts, the dancing trees and the rustling leaves and the autumn around them. and lucy thinks, here. i just want to be here. with edmund, in the fall, with the trees and the sun, away from ben's dismissal and peter's restlessness and susan's growing distance. far from atlantic city and con games and forgotten security codes and untrustworthy allies, far from running away all the time and constant damage control. her throat tightens, and she thinks she shouldn't have smoked that spliff at all -- it's making her emotional, and that so so so wasn't the point.
1/2
"ben and i have smoked here loads of times before," says lucy, a bit hoarsely. "we never get caught."
"there's a first time for everything."
"take it, you pussy."
"don't call me a pussy." but edmund takes it anyway, puffs on it like peter and lucy taught him years ago. his eyes water and he hands it back amid coughs. lucy shoves the water bottle into his hand. edmund and susan are marathon coughers, and lucy has learned to not light up with them without some beverage handy if she can help it.
the woods are quiet except for the coughing and the leaves rustling, and lucy and edmund wend along a path passing the spliff back and forth as her eyes felt fatter and fatter and her head became fuzzier. the sunlight through the trees is even more beautiful with the onset of autumn, and it filters down to them in shades of gold, and it's like some fantasy world, almost. like she is an adventurer on a quest, her loyal sidekick beside her as they seek out, like, some jewel, or magic scepter or something. the salvation of her kingdom. her heart aches with the thought of it, of being in another world where the only thing you have to worry about is witches and dragons and destined wars. you know how to be a hero in situations like that, she thinks. you know who's good and who's bad, you know who to fight. it's in peacetime when things become muddled.
they finish the spliff and lucy cries out when edmund throws it on the ground to grind it under his shoe. "don't!" she exclaims, and picks it up. she puts it out against the trunk of a tree and puts it in the pocket of her jacket. "it's littering. and what if the forest catches fire?"
edmund laughs at her for that, but she doesn't care.
the wind is blowing colder now, and harder, and she wishes she brought along a thicker coat but adventurer lucy probably won't whine about things like that, so she doesn't either.
"are you cold?" edmund asks.
"a little."
"you're shivering."
lucy shrugs.
the path emerges onto a rocky ledge, not a very tall one, and it splits in two downhill and you can take either one because it'll join up again at the bottom. beyond the ledge, more trees, swaying with the wind. it looks like dancing, and it makes lucy's heart ache with possibility and alternatives. she sits at the ledge and lets her feet dangle, ignoring edmund's insistence that she would fall off. a few seconds later, edmund joins her at her side.
"you think it would be easier, in another world?" lucy asks, seemingly apropos of nothing.
edmund looks at her, and his eyes are very red. "what's easier?"
"i don't know. everything. mistakes. life."
"there are mistakes in every life."
"that's not what i'm asking."
"it sounds like it is. like." he stares at the trees thoughtfully. lucy waits. then he says, "you only know this life, you know? you can't compare this life to another, 'cos even if you're, like, in that other life, you won't know what this life is like and you'll think that life is just as hard."
lucy says, "i'm worried about susan."
"is that what this is about?"
"no. partly."
"is this about ben?"
"i don't want to talk about ben."
"okay."
and then they are quiet again, each in their own thoughts, the dancing trees and the rustling leaves and the autumn around them. and lucy thinks, here. i just want to be here. with edmund, in the fall, with the trees and the sun, away from ben's dismissal and peter's restlessness and susan's growing distance. far from atlantic city and con games and forgotten security codes and untrustworthy allies, far from running away all the time and constant damage control. her throat tightens, and she thinks she shouldn't have smoked that spliff at all -- it's making her emotional, and that so so so wasn't the point.