( It has been a lifetime since Edmund last held her like this — even in Narnia, it had been Peter's hands that soothed while Edmund's words did the rest. But, with his cheek pressed to her temple and the entirety of his body swept up in a gray torrent of emptiness, it's hard to remember why he'd kept his distance. Narnia had quartered each of their souls and distributed the pieces into one another; now half of Edmund has been taken away from him — but there's this, and there's now and there's the quietude of tears seeping down his cheeks. For now, it's all that he can do. )
Pax, sister. ( It's murmured, whispered through his gritted teeth, barely denting the silence around them. And that's all that he can allow himself to think about — peace, and Susan, and the sticky feel of crushed Turkish Delight beneath his heel. )
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Pax, sister. ( It's murmured, whispered through his gritted teeth, barely denting the silence around them. And that's all that he can allow himself to think about — peace, and Susan, and the sticky feel of crushed Turkish Delight beneath his heel. )