(no subject)
Lucy sat on the grass near the school. She'd finished a class, and had some tutoring by Susan as well. Now she was drawing. Feverishly drawing in a way, one of the compound cats who had wandered outside for a while.
Only it didn't look to be a cat she was drawing. It looked to be a lion. She hadn't meant it to turn into that, truly she hadn't. She was trying her best to not think on Aslan, on being here and not there. Of course she couldn't be there either, could she? He'd sent her back. Back home never to go back to the land she loved so again. And now she was here. Here with her sister, and her friends, and she did love it, in her way, but in others...
Lucy Pevensie was not the sort of child to stress and worry. When Anthony had handed her the books of their lives she'd thought nothing of it. She'd read about the founding of Narnia, about their first adventures there, and one about Shasta and Bree and the Calormens. She had another on the grass beside her. She'd been carrying it in her bag for days.
Prince Caspian by CS Lewis.
Part of her still thought the professor had written the books, that CS Lewis was a... Oh what was it called? A nom de plume. Part of her thought something else, something she didn't like to think on. So she rested with with what she was more comfortable with, even though it seemed awfully close to lying. Too close to make her entirely comfortable.
It wasn't that she was avoiding the book. Well, perhaps she was. It was just... So much had happened. They'd all doubted her and her faith in Aslan. Yet here she was doubting him herself. It worried her. So she'd put off opening it. She likely wasn't going to open it today either.
She was honest enough to admit that.
[[One young girl with a piece of her canon in plain sight. She's actually not in a horrible mood, she's just... growing really. It's good. LT & ST welcome]]
Only it didn't look to be a cat she was drawing. It looked to be a lion. She hadn't meant it to turn into that, truly she hadn't. She was trying her best to not think on Aslan, on being here and not there. Of course she couldn't be there either, could she? He'd sent her back. Back home never to go back to the land she loved so again. And now she was here. Here with her sister, and her friends, and she did love it, in her way, but in others...
Lucy Pevensie was not the sort of child to stress and worry. When Anthony had handed her the books of their lives she'd thought nothing of it. She'd read about the founding of Narnia, about their first adventures there, and one about Shasta and Bree and the Calormens. She had another on the grass beside her. She'd been carrying it in her bag for days.
Prince Caspian by CS Lewis.
Part of her still thought the professor had written the books, that CS Lewis was a... Oh what was it called? A nom de plume. Part of her thought something else, something she didn't like to think on. So she rested with with what she was more comfortable with, even though it seemed awfully close to lying. Too close to make her entirely comfortable.
It wasn't that she was avoiding the book. Well, perhaps she was. It was just... So much had happened. They'd all doubted her and her faith in Aslan. Yet here she was doubting him herself. It worried her. So she'd put off opening it. She likely wasn't going to open it today either.
She was honest enough to admit that.
[[One young girl with a piece of her canon in plain sight. She's actually not in a horrible mood, she's just... growing really. It's good. LT & ST welcome]]