[Closed Post] ..lines we're leaving behind..

[lanselos_du_lac]

He doesn't really mean to, but Lancelot keeps to his rooms for a time in the wake of the latest mansion upheaval. He doesn't disappear for days, and he mostly keeps his routines -- he does spend a little more time riding -- but he is subdued and not idly floating about for socializing.

It could have been worse. He knows this. He knows, too, that no one did this on purpose; he's grateful for Susan and Nightingale's understanding. But none of that makes it easier to regain his emotional balance. Much like that day (which felt very long), he is still grappling occasionally with that sensation of being... just outside of himself, a step removed, dizzy and longing to be even further away.

Still, he does not want to punish Susan and he knows they should talk. So this morning after he puts up Rivelin, he goes to find Susan, wherever she might be.

Comments

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"You can if you need," Susan says, immediately, and then a moment later, "...just tell me first?"

[lanselos_du_lac]

There is a moment that registers on his face as something like surprise. And then, he says, "Aye, that's-- that is the sensible way."

He can't account for the way this makes him feel. That he could have whatever response or time he needed, and keep Susan informed or happy. It seems odd that it hasn't occurred to him before now.

[quote_gentle_unquote]

Susan doesn't realize that she's said anything even approaching revolutionary; it just seems a matter of course, similar to any number of things she and her flatmate back in London would do when one of them was having a bad day. So she just says, "Of course it is; naturally I'll do the same," and strokes his neck just above his collar softly with the fingertips of one hand.

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot laughs a little, and then gives himself a moment to just look at her. He's missed her.

[quote_gentle_unquote]

Susan is still stroking Lancelot's neck with tiny, featherlight touches. She really does feel ever so much better now that they're together and touching again. "Have you got any other feelings about the situation?" she asks; she did, after all, say that she wants to hear every single one of them.

[lanselos_du_lac]

"No, I-- think that's all I have words for, at least. I am grateful to thee and to Thomas for thy understanding. I just needed to sort myself out, I suppose." His hand rubs gently at her back. "What of thee? Any news?"

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"Well, I'm myself again," Susan says, with a half-shrug.

[lanselos_du_lac]

"A very good thing, indeed." He gives her another quick, sweet kiss.

[quote_gentle_unquote]

Susan is quiet for a long moment, returning the kiss and then tucking her face against his, letting herself feel every inch of where their bodies are touching. Then she says, "I believe I told you, once, that I was taller before. In Narnia."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Aye," quietly, settling her against him. "Was it similar?"

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"Nothing like it, actually," she says, wry amusement coloring her words. "I'm afraid I can't remember what details I've told you now, but when we left Narnia, we emerged back in England the age we were when we left, barely a minute after we'd departed. So I was twelve again, not twenty-seven. And by the time I grew up again, I'd quite forgotten about Narnia and that I was ever any different." Mostly, at least. Sometimes things had felt wrong, but always in ways she never fully chased down. "Save for occasionally feeling, I suppose, superimposed upon myself - like I did not properly fit some mold I was meant to fill."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Hast spoken of it mainly when we speak of thy shooting," gently. "Go on."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"Anyway." Susan sounds businesslike again. "It felt rather like an overcorrection."

[lanselos_du_lac]

But by now he knows that the businesslike tone often covers something more. He brushes her hair back with his free hand, though there's nothing much out of place, and gives her space to say more if she'd like.

[quote_gentle_unquote]

Susan would not like! She's fairly certain he's waiting for her to say more, though, and gives him a pleading sort of look, trying not to immediately slot this all away. "It was... disconcerting."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"We need not speak on it, an thou dost not wish to," he says gently.

[quote_gentle_unquote]

Susan wants to take him gratefully up on his offer, which means - "No," she sighs. "I ought to. Only..."

[lanselos_du_lac]

Another gentle touch, "What, sweet?"

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"Come with me?" she asks, climbing reluctantly off his lap and extending a hand to him.

[lanselos_du_lac]

He takes her hand and rises, squeezing her fingers. "Anywhere."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

Oh! That warms Susan, and she pauses to kiss him appreciatively.

She only leads him across the room to the bed. Her shoes are already off, and she is (to her own surprise) not actively angling for sex, for once - though she would likely find it a relief if things turned in that direction sooner rather than later. So she climbs on top of the covers and lies down, gesturing for him to line up behind her and hold her like that, close and tight and warm. She's missed sleeping tangled up with him, and hopes that it'll be easier to talk when he's wrapped around her.

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot gladly climbs into bed, gathering her up, kissing her neck as his arm goes around her waist to pull her close.

[quote_gentle_unquote]

Susan presses back against him, relaxing in increments. She pulls her hair over her shoulder and then then covers his hand with hers. This, at least, feels right: she fits, nested against Lancelot. It doesn't matter how tall she is or how broad her shoulders are, because he is (once again) taller and broader than her. And lying like this, with him so close but not facing her directly, it's easier to speak of things she doesn't enjoy thinking about. She really is growing ever so comfortable with him. He's familiar, by now, and she - she -

In any event! She's focusing. She's focused. She can do this. 'It was rather like - being in Thomas's body was as if a funhouse mirror was being held up to that feeling I sometimes get."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Forgive me," he says quietly, giving her the smallest squeeze, "but I do not know what you mean-- funhouse mirror?"

[quote_gentle_unquote]

Oh, of course! "You know of mirrors, yes?"