upstairs_wardrobe | (no subject)

As a matter of fact, he did. Susan raised a brow at him, uncertain as to whether or not she heard him right.

"What did you say?"

"I think it's from some song." He blinks, not quite awake and alert even then. Chilly nights and small homes made for drowsy minds.

"Maybe you've heard of it, Su'."

She shrugged, absently mulling over a letter she's just read. Susan bit her lip, before unfolding the paper and reading it again. "Is it a new one?"

Edmund does his best to keep his eyes off of the letter- it wasn't any of his business what was in it. It honestly wasn't.

"Not really, though it says king now because of good ol' George. But I still think it ought to say Queen. Maybe getting an entire nation to plea would do the trick."

That got her to lift her eyes off the letter to look at him, amusement clearly written on her face. "And why is that?"

"Too many sweets'll turn her rotten." Did that make sense to Susan? Edmund didn't particularly mind, because now he's peering owlishly at the letter and with no ill intent significant in his features. So, looking like a curious little chimp, he'll pipe up "Let me see that."

Susan surrendered the letter quite easily. "It's just some invitation," she said with a light shrug. "For next week. They want me to go."

And surely, that's just what it was. Nothing wrong about it, really, and Edmund almost wishes he hadn't just wasted a minute of his life skimming over the contents. So Susan wasn't going to show up at the rugby game. That was all right. He hands the letter back. "Have fun." If he sounds like he's in a foul mood-- he'll say he's not.

Surely he noticed the date indicated there? "What about your rugby game?" She thought of not going - after all, surely there'd be other invitations, and this one wasn't quite particularly interesting.

...oh, but there'd be dancing and music and fun and-- "I mean, do you need me there?"

He thinks about asking what about it. It wasn't going to be anything big, really, just a friendly game to fill in a slow month and to keep the boys on the team from getting too antsy. And to help his mum so she doesn't keep from fretting over some blue on his skin.

Still... well, it's something they've done always. It'd be unnatural to not have someone or the other skip a game every now and then, though.

"I'm sure the chaps and I'll win either way."

The response is about as uninteresting as the invitation he had read. Whether it was Narnia having some belated effect on him, however, Edmund found it particularly hard to stomach the thought that Susan was wanting to slip away from the family, little by little. And perhaps this was a sort of test he was issuing, wrongly or not. Did his sister even notice herself sometimes?

It was Narnia, surely. Spending so much time with somebody working was a lot different than sitting around like this. And he had grown accustomed to everybody being more or less together this second going there. A few parties parties would-- he was making a mountain out of a molehill.

Susan smiled a bit at him, before folding the letter on her lap. She felt a bit guilty about missing the rugby game, but the ones before this had always consisted of the same thing and she only got a hoarse throat as consolation for attending. Oh, she enjoyed seeing Edmund play, but there would be others in the future (especially now that they wouldn't be returning to Narnia at all) and Susan was certain she'd be able to attend all those, anyway.

"I'm sure you'd play brilliantly. You always do." And she meant it, though it did sound like she was only saying the words to appease him, didn't it?

"Would you perhaps like it better if we lost a round?" Her tone was, in all probability, an echo of his own before. So this time Edmund ups a bit the volume, and there's an undercurrent there- no telling yet of what. Yes, though, he is bothered.

She looked at him with her brows drawn together. Did she just hear him right? "...why would I like that?" Besides, when did her preferences came into consideration for his rugby game? With a laugh she added, quite teasingly, "What an odd question, Ed."

"You're getting bored, aren't you? Just spectating." He didn't think it was such an odd suggestion. Would make things interesting for the other boys, too, if maybe he fumbled a ball twice.

"Pete said it'd be good strategy to let other teams think we're losing our touch before the tourney."

"Let them get comfortable and careless before launching the offensive?" She nodded as she thought that over. "It's a sound strategy. I'm not surprised Peter thought of it." Her brother had always been dependable in coming up with plans like this.

"Just make sure you still have time to catch up and win before it's over. And that your team knows that is how you're going to play."

She didn't answer his first question because it was such-- there was just no polite way of answering it without lying. And she didn't want to anyway.

"Would only be fair to let the others know. 's what a team does." He had been sitting a little straighter, and now he slumps down in the chair again. He wishes he had a paddle ball. "We've got until Saturday, even, to let people make up their minds."

"Mmm."

She gave him a look that she hoped conveyed her interest, but her mind was already half-elsewhere. What should she even wear to the party? Times like this, Susan wished she had half her gowns in Narnia here in this world. Not that they were terribly practical, but she did miss them so.

Susan had never truly said no to showing up, but Edmund thinks we gets the clue now. He continues to talk about Matthew and Thomas- kids his age and how they weren't doing all they could to keep a good formation during the practices. He talks more about rugby things, knowing Susan isn't paying any mind. "And I think we're getting a new captain- older bloke."

She nodded absently, faintly remembering boys Edmund's age who acted so much like children (which perhaps was how Ed himself would have acted had they not gone to Narnia - but that was so long ago she wasn't quite sure she could remember him acting his age). Susan watched her brother talk, and caught his last words fully and asked, "Well, why can't they just get you for a captain? I think you're qualified enough."

"Don't be silly, Su'. I'm not nearly big enough." Because that's all that mattered here in the men- bulk. Well-- in the boys, too, it seemed.

If Ed was going to brood all night, he might as well do it comfortably; Lucy was making them tea and walking through the doorway with a mug for each of them when she half-heard him speak.

"What anthem?"

"American." The answer rolled off his tongue to easily to be true, in the too-pensive, too-lethargic state he seems to be in. "I think I've got it memorized" comes a good minute later, after Edmund figures Lucy might ask what about it.

He straightens up in the recliner he's claimed, blinking at the tea. "Well, haven't you got any friends to be out with tonight?"

Ignoring the question, Lucy continued blithely on. "I didn't think the Americans had anything about queens in their anthem."

She handed him the tea and sat down on the sofa, shooting him a curious look.

"Then I must not have learned it as well as I thought." He takes the tea, and he doesn't feel quite as terrible as he should for lashing out at Lucy like that. It was difficult to do so if he's honest with himself, because of how quickly she recovered from them, if there had ever been any to do so in the first place.

"Chilly night, isn't it?"

For her own part, she didn't know she'd been slighted in the least, though there was something rather odd about his behavior that she couldn't put her finger on.

"I wish it would at least snow. Then things wouldn't be so dreary."

The dreariness is something that doesn't well suit the youngest of them, everyone knows, and Edmund feels at fault for it. He feels an urge to stand and flip on the wireless- anything for noise he seems to be having trouble getting from his own mouth. He takes a sip from the hot drink (a little too hot still, actually) and takes a second to fan his tongue and resolve to follow the lighter tone.

"Do you remember the Great Snow Dance? In Narnia?" Ed almost thought himself stupid for asking Lucy this question.

She smiled a little wistfully, forgetting the tea in remembrance of older, brighter days. It wasn't good, she knew, to overindulge in nostalgia, but times like these seemed made for the recounting of old lives. "How could I not?" Lucy says. "It was always the best of times."

She brightens as another thought strikes her. "Have you been in contact with Eustace lately?"

For some reason It was the best of times, it was the worst of times comes to his mind, and he has to even stifle a huff. He's looking at Lucy now, almost a bit too intently, his salvation from a spiral of gloom this evening. "Not in a month or so, no. Why, what happened?" He has a thought...

"Your mentioning the Great Snow Dance only reminded me that I'd forgotten to tell you that he made it into Narnia again, this time with a friend of his from school, Jill Pole." Lucy would never find it in herself to be jealous, but there was a note of longing in her voice that she couldn't quite quell.

"You'd forgotten?" There's a tinge of-- it's not despair, because that'd be downright silly and stupid but if stone-set Lucy had found the detail not worth remembrance-- well, that wasn't fair of him at all, was it?

His voice is colored with a childish wonder now. It's the best kind, you know. "That bally Experiment House of his? Just in time to save his skin from tests, too, I shouldn't think!"

In her defense, there'd been a number of things getting in the way, like how they so rarely saw Susan anymore. It wouldn't do to write things in a letter when it would be so much better in the telling.

But now, caught up in said telling, Lucy grinned at him. "I wouldn't know about that, but they were sent by Aslan on a quest."

Face falling for a moment, she added slowly, "They told me that Caspian--well, Caspian's gone."

Peter, who'd been flicking through the pages of the Sunday paper with only half of his attention engaged, looks over the edge of it. Edmund's murmur had barely been enough to disturb the dust motes in the air, but Peter had managed to catch the tail end of it.

When he breaks the silence, there's amused warmth in his voice. "What are you on about now, Ed?"

Of course Peter would take this as a joke, even when all indications point otherwise. Edmund pries his eyes off of the curtains and all their wondrous glory in favor of lolling his head against the back of the recliner, hopefully nonchalantly. There's a stiffness to it, though, that impedes the gesture from being what he wanted.

A lot of things impede what he wants. He supposes that's the way it is with everybody. "Don't you ever feel as if you should do something about it?"

(no subject)

post-PC?

Yep ^_^

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

holidays when they're older, perhaps?

yessum