(no subject)
"Aimee Lucille Evans, please come to Mummy," Susan Pevensie Evans sighs, as she enters her daughter's bedroom. This was Lucy's room, and her sister's favorite colors are still in place, brightened by fresh coats of paint.
Aimee's taken to hiding when called, something the two-year-old girl thinks is a terribly funny game. It's not funny to Susan, who is seven months gone with her second child and in a tearing rush to meet her sister-in-law for tea. She glances at the small bed Clive set up especially for their little girl and rolls her eyes in exasperation. Getting down on one's hands and knees is not easy for her these days. Getting up is even harder.
She heads for the closet instead, hoping for an easy game of hide and go seek today. Pulling the door open, she calls, "Aimee Lucille, are you-"
Then she freezes, eyes wide. Inside the closet is a place she's not seen in over three years.
It's funny how quickly time can go by, especially with marriage and children and life flowing past you. It seems like it was yesterday since she last stepped foot in Milliways; it seems like a lifetime ago.
"Mummy?" Aimee is standing behind her, arms stretched up. She is staring through the closet door, and Susan sees Lucy - brave, mischievous Lucy - in her daughter's eyes. She picks her up and faces the doorway again, hesitating a moment. But the memories of those dear to her - Lucy, her brothers, Amy, her kinsmen and women, her hosts in the House of Arch - compel her to step inside, for one last visit.
In her heart of hearts, she knows this is the last visit, just as she knew through the years, when she had time to think of it, that she'd come here again one day.
Blinking away the tears, she smiles at her daughter. "Mummy has a treat for you, Aimee. I'm so glad you came out to see."
ooc: This is Susan's last post, and it might not be the best of times for her to meet new people. However, if it's something you'd really like, ping me at vivien529 and we'll work something out. ;-)
Aimee's taken to hiding when called, something the two-year-old girl thinks is a terribly funny game. It's not funny to Susan, who is seven months gone with her second child and in a tearing rush to meet her sister-in-law for tea. She glances at the small bed Clive set up especially for their little girl and rolls her eyes in exasperation. Getting down on one's hands and knees is not easy for her these days. Getting up is even harder.
She heads for the closet instead, hoping for an easy game of hide and go seek today. Pulling the door open, she calls, "Aimee Lucille, are you-"
Then she freezes, eyes wide. Inside the closet is a place she's not seen in over three years.
It's funny how quickly time can go by, especially with marriage and children and life flowing past you. It seems like it was yesterday since she last stepped foot in Milliways; it seems like a lifetime ago.
"Mummy?" Aimee is standing behind her, arms stretched up. She is staring through the closet door, and Susan sees Lucy - brave, mischievous Lucy - in her daughter's eyes. She picks her up and faces the doorway again, hesitating a moment. But the memories of those dear to her - Lucy, her brothers, Amy, her kinsmen and women, her hosts in the House of Arch - compel her to step inside, for one last visit.
In her heart of hearts, she knows this is the last visit, just as she knew through the years, when she had time to think of it, that she'd come here again one day.
Blinking away the tears, she smiles at her daughter. "Mummy has a treat for you, Aimee. I'm so glad you came out to see."
ooc: This is Susan's last post, and it might not be the best of times for her to meet new people. However, if it's something you'd really like, ping me at vivien529 and we'll work something out. ;-)