the frayed edges of things, and dust motes in sunbeams. the snatches of some other world's lullaby. these are all that's left of the dream when susan wakes up, and she lies awake in the dark of pre-dawn trying to remember the rest of it. but of course, the harder you try, the more it sleeps away. she hums the first bar of the lullaby in a crackled just-awake voice, to hold on to it. from the next bed, lucy hums back the next bar.

"have you been awake all this time?" susan asks.

"just for a little while."

"come here."

and lucy does. lucy has stopped listening to most of susan's orders, but she will follow this one. she will huddle with her under the covers and hum old lullabies into her ear, just to hold onto her, to keep her from slipping away.

but of course, the harder you try...



This all just makes me want to finish my edmund&susan-in-calormen fic, which is progressing VERRAH VERRAH SLOWLEH. there's a particular bit in it (which i haven't written yet) where ancient calormen script is like the crests of waves and edmund's painting protective runes on susan's body (well they're partly protective runes, he doesn't tell susan what else it does) with the ink he procured from the tisroc's court magician. along her spine, over her heart, along her clavicles and around her wrist: points of power. from her ankle to her soft belly, a long lyric invoking old gods. the ink glows and sinks into her skin and is gone, and in the end there's no proof she's been subject to spells except for a flush in her cheeks and an unfocused look in her eyes. susan reaches for edmund and he lets her curl into him, dizzy with magic.

if only she remembers magic, if only it works here the way it does There. (things don't happen the same way twice, my child.)