She has some things in the room-that-was-hers, still, really, but most of them--nearly all, if Lucy thinks on it--are in the room-that-is-theirs, now ( Read more... )

She's...not exactly nervous.

A little nervous.

A tad nervous.

But not scared, really, as she looks at the dress Susan made her and the flowers Mary's brought, and fidgets, slightly, trying to remember how to breathe.

The twins are sulking around her feet, and it's something of a comfort that makes her smile.

Caspian has asked, and Aslan's said yes, but that doesn't mean that Lucy doesn't wish to see him yet.

She always does.

And so she's sitting by the lake and...hoping, maybe.

Speaking with Chiara was amazing and fun and what she wanted, so badly--or one thing--since she was so much younger ( Read more... )

Sometimes, dreams are just dreams.

This is the end ( Read more... )

She's brushing her hair, as she sits on the edge of their bed, slowly ( Read more... )

Water and the sea and it's a relief, in a way.

It's almost reassuring.

That fact, Lucy thinks, as she watches the waves roll in, that this place is more reassuring than the waking world--that isn't reassuring at all.

Dreams say what they mean, but they don't say it in daytime language.
-Gail Godwin

It's almost always the water ( Read more... )

Susan's nagging her ( Read more... )

Susan is not here as much as she once was.

This is right, and proper, and as it should be.

Lucy's still impatient, a bit, for her to get back.