(no subject)
Susan sat before her vanity, applying her cosmetics in the meticulous way she always did. Just so much powder, just so much rouge in just the right place to highlight her cheeks without looking painted, just enough mascara to fill out her already lush lashes.
She was going to Milliways. Lucy was busy with Caspian, Edmund was busy with Kitty, and Peter was busy with his thoughts. Susan intended to not be lonely one more evening in her room.
Ignoring the fact that she'd promised herself she'd return to London today to attend to her parent’s house - she liked to go there every now and again to dust and air out the rooms - she brushed her black hair and arrange it just so.
She also chose to ignore her tentative plans for returning to London more permanently for just a little while longer. She thought she might go back to live or work they are part of the time, but then she'd been ill and then she'd thought of more excuses to stay in the same place.
However, she'd felt a call of late, and she didn't like it. It reminded her too much of the call Alain had spoken of before he left for the Clearing. Hers was not a call to eternal peace. She felt the tug of life passing her by.
Pushing the troubling thoughts away, she rose to take her royal blue gown out of the wardrobe. It was a beautiful gown, identical to one of her favorite Narnian dresses. The blue would bring out her eyes and flatter her pale skin, and tonight she wanted to look as lovely as she could.
The King of the Enchanted Forest had turned her head, and Susan, ever the romantic, had rushed to the end of her own fairy story. She opened the doors of the wardrobe, her thoughts dancing in a swirl of hope and yearning.
Looking back at this night much later, Susan knew it was the wardrobe that did it. Or more specifically, the sound of her fist rapping the back of the wardrobe, something she always did without even thinking.
She drew back her hand from the back wall of the wardrobe. Staring at the beautiful gown, she was knocked out of her reverie. ‘What are you doing, Susan?’ she asked herself.
She was looking for Narnia, that’s what she was doing. She was always hopelessly searching for that which she had lost. It struck her then how very much she was hiding in this enchanted house.
Turning to face the mirror, she didn’t see Queen Susan the Gentle in her reflection. She didn’t see Susan, the cold, broken-hearted model she’d been before coming to Milliways. She saw Susan Elizabeth Pevensie, perhaps for the first time since she was a girl.
She couldn’t ignore the call. She couldn’t be a real Queen any longer. It was time to set aside enchantments and magic, and be practical, though the very thought broke her heart anew. She’d had a brief respite here, and she needn’t leave for good. Her family was still part of her life, after all, and she’d not turn her back on them ever again.
But Susan Elizabeth Pevensie knew she must go to London today. Kings, of Enchanted Forests or not, were not in her future.
Her throat tight, and her eyes prickling with tears, she reached to the far corner of the wardrobe to take out the Dior dress she’d worn when she arrived at Milliways. Time moved oddly in London - she didn’t think the dress would be too out of style yet.
She dug out the undergarments she’d need - the garter belt, the filmy hose, the stiff bustier, the stiff, scratchy crinoline - and girded herself in them as if going to war. The dress became silken armor as she pulled it over her head. As she slipped into her stiletto heels, she didn’t quite manage to stifle a sob. She was going to war, in a way, or at the very least, into a battle to be the person she had to be.
There had to be a reason she wasn’t on the train that day. Her life had been spared. Even though she’d be alone in that frightening world, it was where she belonged and there were things she must do.
If she cried her mascara would run, and that simply would not do. She held a handkerchief in her hand with a grip much like that of a knight's on the pommel of a sword, dabbing in an expert way at the tears every few moments. Susan was no stranger to not allowing her mascara to run. She placed an extra handkerchief in her purse, just in case.
She took one more look in the mirror. She thought of a porcelain doll she’d had once, that had shattered to pieces when dropped. For a moment she reconsidered. Maybe she didn’t have to do this. Maybe she could pretend she was as dead to the world as her family was. Then she thought of Aslan’s fur under her hands, and she knew. She knew what she must do and she knew she had the strength to do it.
With a shaky intake of breath, Susan stepped through her room’s painting, into the front gallery, and on to Milliways. She made straight for the front door, not looking to see if friends, new or old, were there.
When she walked through the door, she found herself in her parent’s parlor.
‘No,’ she thought. ‘In my parlor.’
She was home, and oh, it hurt so.
The partner was dim the curtains closed to the sunlight. White sheets covered the chairs, and she pulled the one from her mother’s favorite arm chair away. Sitting down heavily, she tilted back her head, stared up at the ceiling, and tried not to cry.
She was going to Milliways. Lucy was busy with Caspian, Edmund was busy with Kitty, and Peter was busy with his thoughts. Susan intended to not be lonely one more evening in her room.
Ignoring the fact that she'd promised herself she'd return to London today to attend to her parent’s house - she liked to go there every now and again to dust and air out the rooms - she brushed her black hair and arrange it just so.
She also chose to ignore her tentative plans for returning to London more permanently for just a little while longer. She thought she might go back to live or work they are part of the time, but then she'd been ill and then she'd thought of more excuses to stay in the same place.
However, she'd felt a call of late, and she didn't like it. It reminded her too much of the call Alain had spoken of before he left for the Clearing. Hers was not a call to eternal peace. She felt the tug of life passing her by.
Pushing the troubling thoughts away, she rose to take her royal blue gown out of the wardrobe. It was a beautiful gown, identical to one of her favorite Narnian dresses. The blue would bring out her eyes and flatter her pale skin, and tonight she wanted to look as lovely as she could.
The King of the Enchanted Forest had turned her head, and Susan, ever the romantic, had rushed to the end of her own fairy story. She opened the doors of the wardrobe, her thoughts dancing in a swirl of hope and yearning.
Looking back at this night much later, Susan knew it was the wardrobe that did it. Or more specifically, the sound of her fist rapping the back of the wardrobe, something she always did without even thinking.
She drew back her hand from the back wall of the wardrobe. Staring at the beautiful gown, she was knocked out of her reverie. ‘What are you doing, Susan?’ she asked herself.
She was looking for Narnia, that’s what she was doing. She was always hopelessly searching for that which she had lost. It struck her then how very much she was hiding in this enchanted house.
Turning to face the mirror, she didn’t see Queen Susan the Gentle in her reflection. She didn’t see Susan, the cold, broken-hearted model she’d been before coming to Milliways. She saw Susan Elizabeth Pevensie, perhaps for the first time since she was a girl.
She couldn’t ignore the call. She couldn’t be a real Queen any longer. It was time to set aside enchantments and magic, and be practical, though the very thought broke her heart anew. She’d had a brief respite here, and she needn’t leave for good. Her family was still part of her life, after all, and she’d not turn her back on them ever again.
But Susan Elizabeth Pevensie knew she must go to London today. Kings, of Enchanted Forests or not, were not in her future.
Her throat tight, and her eyes prickling with tears, she reached to the far corner of the wardrobe to take out the Dior dress she’d worn when she arrived at Milliways. Time moved oddly in London - she didn’t think the dress would be too out of style yet.
She dug out the undergarments she’d need - the garter belt, the filmy hose, the stiff bustier, the stiff, scratchy crinoline - and girded herself in them as if going to war. The dress became silken armor as she pulled it over her head. As she slipped into her stiletto heels, she didn’t quite manage to stifle a sob. She was going to war, in a way, or at the very least, into a battle to be the person she had to be.
There had to be a reason she wasn’t on the train that day. Her life had been spared. Even though she’d be alone in that frightening world, it was where she belonged and there were things she must do.
If she cried her mascara would run, and that simply would not do. She held a handkerchief in her hand with a grip much like that of a knight's on the pommel of a sword, dabbing in an expert way at the tears every few moments. Susan was no stranger to not allowing her mascara to run. She placed an extra handkerchief in her purse, just in case.
She took one more look in the mirror. She thought of a porcelain doll she’d had once, that had shattered to pieces when dropped. For a moment she reconsidered. Maybe she didn’t have to do this. Maybe she could pretend she was as dead to the world as her family was. Then she thought of Aslan’s fur under her hands, and she knew. She knew what she must do and she knew she had the strength to do it.
With a shaky intake of breath, Susan stepped through her room’s painting, into the front gallery, and on to Milliways. She made straight for the front door, not looking to see if friends, new or old, were there.
When she walked through the door, she found herself in her parent’s parlor.
‘No,’ she thought. ‘In my parlor.’
She was home, and oh, it hurt so.
The partner was dim the curtains closed to the sunlight. White sheets covered the chairs, and she pulled the one from her mother’s favorite arm chair away. Sitting down heavily, she tilted back her head, stared up at the ceiling, and tried not to cry.