Jun 20, 2007 23:19
Some days Lucy can't deal with her husband.
It's not a fault on either of their parts, and it's not to imply that she's angry with him, because she's certainly not.
There are just certain times when she doesn't want to be with Caspian because she doesn't know how to voice what's bothering her. Where she aches and wants to cry and doesn't want to explain to him, because Caspian's life and worries and fears and pains aren't quite hers in some ways.
And sometimes it's worth explaining because of that, and sometimes she can't bring herself to try to make sense of the mess of things she feels and translate them into words for her husband who she loves and doesn't always understand herself.
After talking with Archibald Craven, it became one of those days.
She has to go home, of course. She knows that, and that he'll be in their room, and that it will be better when she curls up next to him simple because she is next to him, and she also knows she's not quite ready to yet.
So she curls up in the corner of one of the living rooms, teacup held tightly, and keeps the lights mostly off.
It makes it a good place to be alone, and right now, as she's trying not to cry
(If she cares for you, and you are leaving, you shall.)
and let herself be lost in her thoughts.