(Untitled)

[queenofmay]

[OOC: You know when your life sucks.

Sometimes to remind you just how much your life sucks, they throw in a festival.

But instead of getting a nifty, neat episodic conclusion, Marian found The Door. Which meant returning to work in the House of Arch for Little Lady Ingress. Which ended of course, naturally and normally. But almost produced a

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[kitchen_maid]

There's a very small blonde girl who comes toddling over.

"Hey-o," she says, smiling.

Chances are good her mother is around somewhere.

One hopes.

[queenofmay]

Little children, no matter the world or time, have extraordinarily amazing powers.

Like the one that is seemingly innocent, and terribly insidious, such as their cute little half-learned speech, which moves tiny fluffy almost pillowy cheeks.

And causing people to smile, who'd thought minutes ago they might not.

"Hi, there," Marian said, leaning down from the seat. "Aren't you a little young for having the run of a bar?"

[kitchen_maid]

"Susan," she says, which doesn't actually answer the question. But possibly supplies useful information.

"Tea?" she adds, hopefully.

[queenofmay]

"Well, that would solve a very many questions."

Marian laughed, even though she felt it impossible as it happened.

"I do have tea, if you would like some," she offered, holding out her arms to help the girl get closer to the table. "And would I be correct in assuming, you must be the ever much older little Susan belonging to miss Amy, then?"

[kitchen_maid]

Susan climbs up cheerfully.

"Pease," she says. "Tea."

She doesn't know the word Amy, unfortunately. Just Mama.

[queenofmay]

Marian helped her up and then gathered another cup, which she poured her tea into. Putting the cup very close to her, but not letting go of it yet, she asked.

"Do you need help or can you drink it by yourself?"

[kitchen_maid]

"Tea," says Susan, happily.

She needs help. Amy usually lets her drink out of a spoon.

"Oh, Marian, thank God you found her," says Amy, arriving.

"Susan, you are not supposed to wander off."

[queenofmay]

"Yes, she's been convincing me to give her tea," Marian offered with a weary, but still present, smile. "She seems to be a daughter very much after your own heart."

[kitchen_maid]

"Very much so," says Amy. "And she's very good at talking people out of their tea. Thank you, Marian."

"Teeeeaaaaaaa," says Susan, happily.

"How are you this evening?"

[queenofmay]

She couldn't help smiling at the little girls word, nor the thought that held her gaze settled on the girl even as Amy spoke. That, if she did marry Guy, given her society and a very short amount of time, she might have children.

Small, dark haired, possible tea drinking, possible rough and tumble, or sweet intelligent...children.

Blinking, as she looked up, she answer, honestly if a little evasively. "It's been a very, very long day."

[kitchen_maid]

"Oh, dear," says Amy.

"Is it . . . is it anything you'd like to talk about?"

Merry is asleep in his basket, Susan is happy with her tea, and Amy is completely at Marian's disposal, if she'd like.

[queenofmay]

It wasn't that she didn't like the thought of children either. Which was more problematic. In her society she was classified almost into being an old maid, except for the love everyone had of her.

This had not stopped her wanting children. Absently. One day. In the future. When she married.

....but it had never quite settled as a possibility of the now in her life until that moment.

Marian sighed, partly, looking at Amy for a moment.

"It's really rather a large everything."

Then, a moment later--because it was Amy. Which was in some ways different because of some of things they had in common.

"A large everything that I just put back to quiet together after it fell apart on Tom about, even."

[kitchen_maid]

"Marian, dear," says Amy, "I'm . . . not quite following you. If I can help, I'm happy to, and if you talk about your rather large everything or anything else, I'm happy to."

[queenofmay]

Marian looked thoughtfully at the woman's rather concerned expression.

Tried to find words.

For John being chained and for Guy at her bedside reading while she was ill and for the all people who might die very very soon.

But she looked down, and was distracted not entirely surprisingly by someone tiny and shiny and simple.

"What's it like to have children? I mean more than what it just looks like to watch people who do have them?"

[kitchen_maid]

Amy thinks about how to word this for a long time.

"It's . . . it's the most wonderful and terrifying thing in my life. It's knowing a piece of you is completely out of your control, and yet having the opportunity and the blessing to love and to guide and to matter so deeply to these sweet, dear little souls. It's such utter joy, it's awesome and frightening and there is nothing you could do or say or offer me or threaten me with that would matter more Susan and Merry. They're the center of my life. And such pure love."

[queenofmay]

"I was always slightly afraid of having one, I think." Marian admitted, with a nod. "Even discounting the medical standards of time period being so far off of this place, it's this small person I'd have to devote everything to."

Beat.

Without the realization of changed tense on her part.

"And what if I don't do it right? I didn't have a mother for a great part of my life."