PRETTEH. PLEASE CAN WE HAVE SOME MORE? (you are not the only one who can abuse capitals! we believe in equality! apparently we are also multitudes! or perhaps just legion.)
when she finally makes herself get up, lucy hovering around her anxiously, edmund is gone. susan wonders if lucy's worrying for peter too, or if all she remembers of narnia is peter always coming home, always coming back, made whole again by the cordial she can no longer carry.
susan remembers angrisla, remembers peter covered in blood and gore, bits of flesh and bone and muscle, unconscious and slipping away from them. she remembers lasci, and the arrows that took him in the back. remembers an assassin in the cair paravel throne room, and the pool of blood in front of peter's throne as he nearly bled out, only a month into their reign. she remembers throwing up in the middle of the night, sick with terror, because they don't know where he is, if he's even alive.
we've already done this! she wants to scream. we've already been here! why do we have to do this again?
edmund comes back late that night, smelling of cheap alcohol, his lip split and both his eyes blackened, his knuckles all scraped up. susan has fallen asleep on peter's bed, in the room he and edmund share, wrapped around a pillow that doesn't smell like peter at all. she wakes up when edmund stumbles in and over to her.
"ed --" she says, and he catches her face between his palms (she remembers calluses once, his and peter's, and peter's hands had had one less finger until they came back to england) and kisses her. she opens herself to him, tumbling back onto peter's bed. the door is shut.
no subject
when she finally makes herself get up, lucy hovering around her anxiously, edmund is gone. susan wonders if lucy's worrying for peter too, or if all she remembers of narnia is peter always coming home, always coming back, made whole again by the cordial she can no longer carry.
susan remembers angrisla, remembers peter covered in blood and gore, bits of flesh and bone and muscle, unconscious and slipping away from them. she remembers lasci, and the arrows that took him in the back. remembers an assassin in the cair paravel throne room, and the pool of blood in front of peter's throne as he nearly bled out, only a month into their reign. she remembers throwing up in the middle of the night, sick with terror, because they don't know where he is, if he's even alive.
we've already done this! she wants to scream. we've already been here! why do we have to do this again?
edmund comes back late that night, smelling of cheap alcohol, his lip split and both his eyes blackened, his knuckles all scraped up. susan has fallen asleep on peter's bed, in the room he and edmund share, wrapped around a pillow that doesn't smell like peter at all. she wakes up when edmund stumbles in and over to her.
"ed --" she says, and he catches her face between his palms (she remembers calluses once, his and peter's, and peter's hands had had one less finger until they came back to england) and kisses her. she opens herself to him, tumbling back onto peter's bed. the door is shut.