LUCY/SUSAN - KILL ME SOFTLY
Title: Kill Me Softly
Fandom/Pairing: NARNIA; Lucy Pevensie/Susan Pevensie
Summary: Susan doesn’t believe anymore and it’s breaking Lucy’s heart.
Lucy is not tugging at the edges of her skirt like she would normally if she was nervous. She is not looking at the floor like she would if she was unsure of herself. She is not fidgeting or fluttering, neither moving nor smiling. She has her fingers clenched, her body rigid, posture defiant and Lucy is burning eyes at her older sister’s back, refusing to let the subject die.
“Susan.” Lucy’s tone is not that of a child’s. She is a Queen, even in a body so slight and young. She commands authority. She deserves to be heard. It is the least Susan owes her. “What happened?”
Susan does not look up from powdering her nose, is too busy with the mirror, fixing her make-up like it is all that matters. Lucy supposes it is all that matters to her now.
“Nothing, Lucy,” Susan’s tone is gentle.
Lucy is reminded of her title, Susan the Gentle. But it is no longer the same anymore. She is no longer the same Susan Pevensie as before. No longer Queen of the radiant Southern Sun, the Gentle. Susan has stopped believing, after years of living together in unsurpassed bliss in Narnia during the age of Gold. Susan has lost her faith, and she has forgotten. Forgotten about Narnia, her brothers, forgotten about Lucy, and that is the knife that digs deep in Lucy’s heart.
Lucy is rushing, urgency the flitting in her step. They need to leave soon. Time passes differently in this world than it does Narnia. They need Susan. That is why Lucy is here, here to convince Susan to come with them, to ask her as a sister, for her help. It has not belittled to pleading just yet.
“No,” Lucy corrects. “I mean, what happened to you?”
Lucy’s gaze is soft and bold, fond reminiscence and despair mixed altogether. Watching Susan do such frivolous acts; fix her reflection, brushing painted lipstick on her full lips causes Lucy’s heart to squeeze, her eyes to nearly falter to the ground.
Where was her sister?
“Nothing, Lucy!” Susan tosses her a look over her shoulder, pauses her application of red paint. The look she throws Lucy is one Lucy recognizes. It is all ridiculous hushing and disbelieving and unconcern. It is a look that says that Lucy is needless and unimportant, merely trivial, worthless of Susan’s time.
Lucy’s heart is hurting more than she will admit.
She is getting impatient, something that does little to ease the sting inside. Lucy’s cheeks are red, beginning to burn.
Lucy cries, voice sharp, “Susan!”
“What, Lucy?” Susan looks at her, all surprised and confused, doesn’t get what is wrong.
“Come with us!” Lucy has moved to pleading now, lowered to begging. Her tone is rising, and she fights to keep herself steady in front of her older sister whose earlier expression of indifference has yet to waver. “We need you in Narnia!”
“Please Susan!”
Susan’s looking at Lucy like she doesn’t know her, doesn’t see pass what is right in front of her.
It twists the knife deeper in Lucy’s heart.
Susan’s looking at Lucy like she doesn’t understand why she should disturb her perfect, grown-up life for something she doesn’t, no longer, believe in. Why should she bother?
Susan patronizes Lucy, much to Lucy’s anger.
“Oh, you don’t need me,” Susan is saying like it doesn’t even matter, is beginning to put her things together, shuffling it off the dresser.
“Yes, we do! Otherwise I would not be here!” Lucy’s yelling now, her voice high, near-screech. She feels her eyes burn, her patience break. All she wants is for Susan to listen to her, to actually hear what she is saying. Lucy didn’t come here to be treated like a child. She came here to be heard. To be respected like the adult soul her body possesses.
Susan’s giving her nothing.
“Lucy!” Susan snaps, looking cross.
Lucy flinches, is put aback at Susan’s tone. Susan has never raised her voice at her, ever. Not like this. Lucy’s heart tightens. Her cheeks are flushed, she is sure.
Susan draws to a quiet, is staring at Lucy, thinking she has acted perhaps too recklessly. Susan breathes a sigh of mellow exasperation, steps forward from her dresser, places a hand on Lucy’s shoulder, voice placating, like it is enough, like it will do, “Look, I am sorry, Lucy. But you have Edmund and Peter with you, yes?”
“Yes, but-“
Susan silences Lucy’s protests. “Then no buts. You don’t need me. You have your brothers, so you can go play in your little Narnia now with nothing to worry about.”
Lucy feels like she’s been slapped. She swears she can’t breathe.
Her throat closes, constricts. She can’t get a word out. Her eyes are burning, prickling, irritating. Lucy refuses to cry, doesn’t want to look even more like a child in front of Susan.
“Oh, Lucy,” Susan sighs a tender sigh, takes her in her arms, is holding her sister like she means it, like she used to hold her before. “Oh, Lucy..”
Lucy’s not crying. She is not going to degrade herself any more than she has.
Lucy can’t see anything beyond the mist in her eyes, the salt in her sight, the blur in her vision. Susan’s all warmth and familiarity, but so cold and different and new all the same. Lucy’s gripping Susan’s dress tight, her hands bunching against the silk. Lucy doesn’t want to let go, is afraid, so, so, afraid of what will happen if she does.
Lucy feels like she will lose Susan forever if she lets her hands go.
Susan’s touch is a gentle caress, a circling rub of reassurance at Lucy’s spine. Lucy’s body tingles and she finds herself relaxing despite herself, still isn’t letting go, still too terrified too.
Susan is detaching first, let her hands drops, expecting Lucy to follow. It takes Lucy longer.
Lucy’s just standing still, her head buried against Susan’s bosom. Lucy lets go at Susan’s gentle insistence, memorising her voice because she thinks it is important. Lucy needs to remember this. She takes a breath, takes it all in.
Lucy lets go. She has her eyes on the floor, the unshed tears drying on its own. She doesn’t look up, can’t bear to look Susan in the eye. Knows she will shatter into nothingness if she does.
Lucy knows now.
She knows Susan doesn’t believe anymore and it is breaking Lucy’s heart to know.
Susan’s gathering her things, saying things that Lucy can’t hear anymore beyond the screaming and crying inside, is saying I love you, Lucy like she really does, is brushing a kiss on Lucy's forehead, stroking Lucy’s hair lovingly before she leaves.
Her heart is dying, Lucy feels numb all over.
Lucy can’t even remember if she ever hears the click of the door as she sags to the floor, her valiant spirit breaking into nothing.
Susan walks out. She doesn’t even look back.
NOTE: Written with the help of lassiterfics & elendraug in this Susan/Lucy thread. Thank you for all the info & inspiration! ♥
Fandom/Pairing: NARNIA; Lucy Pevensie/Susan Pevensie
Summary: Susan doesn’t believe anymore and it’s breaking Lucy’s heart.
Lucy is not tugging at the edges of her skirt like she would normally if she was nervous. She is not looking at the floor like she would if she was unsure of herself. She is not fidgeting or fluttering, neither moving nor smiling. She has her fingers clenched, her body rigid, posture defiant and Lucy is burning eyes at her older sister’s back, refusing to let the subject die.
“Susan.” Lucy’s tone is not that of a child’s. She is a Queen, even in a body so slight and young. She commands authority. She deserves to be heard. It is the least Susan owes her. “What happened?”
Susan does not look up from powdering her nose, is too busy with the mirror, fixing her make-up like it is all that matters. Lucy supposes it is all that matters to her now.
“Nothing, Lucy,” Susan’s tone is gentle.
Lucy is reminded of her title, Susan the Gentle. But it is no longer the same anymore. She is no longer the same Susan Pevensie as before. No longer Queen of the radiant Southern Sun, the Gentle. Susan has stopped believing, after years of living together in unsurpassed bliss in Narnia during the age of Gold. Susan has lost her faith, and she has forgotten. Forgotten about Narnia, her brothers, forgotten about Lucy, and that is the knife that digs deep in Lucy’s heart.
Lucy is rushing, urgency the flitting in her step. They need to leave soon. Time passes differently in this world than it does Narnia. They need Susan. That is why Lucy is here, here to convince Susan to come with them, to ask her as a sister, for her help. It has not belittled to pleading just yet.
“No,” Lucy corrects. “I mean, what happened to you?”
Lucy’s gaze is soft and bold, fond reminiscence and despair mixed altogether. Watching Susan do such frivolous acts; fix her reflection, brushing painted lipstick on her full lips causes Lucy’s heart to squeeze, her eyes to nearly falter to the ground.
Where was her sister?
“Nothing, Lucy!” Susan tosses her a look over her shoulder, pauses her application of red paint. The look she throws Lucy is one Lucy recognizes. It is all ridiculous hushing and disbelieving and unconcern. It is a look that says that Lucy is needless and unimportant, merely trivial, worthless of Susan’s time.
Lucy’s heart is hurting more than she will admit.
She is getting impatient, something that does little to ease the sting inside. Lucy’s cheeks are red, beginning to burn.
Lucy cries, voice sharp, “Susan!”
“What, Lucy?” Susan looks at her, all surprised and confused, doesn’t get what is wrong.
“Come with us!” Lucy has moved to pleading now, lowered to begging. Her tone is rising, and she fights to keep herself steady in front of her older sister whose earlier expression of indifference has yet to waver. “We need you in Narnia!”
“Please Susan!”
Susan’s looking at Lucy like she doesn’t know her, doesn’t see pass what is right in front of her.
It twists the knife deeper in Lucy’s heart.
Susan’s looking at Lucy like she doesn’t understand why she should disturb her perfect, grown-up life for something she doesn’t, no longer, believe in. Why should she bother?
Susan patronizes Lucy, much to Lucy’s anger.
“Oh, you don’t need me,” Susan is saying like it doesn’t even matter, is beginning to put her things together, shuffling it off the dresser.
“Yes, we do! Otherwise I would not be here!” Lucy’s yelling now, her voice high, near-screech. She feels her eyes burn, her patience break. All she wants is for Susan to listen to her, to actually hear what she is saying. Lucy didn’t come here to be treated like a child. She came here to be heard. To be respected like the adult soul her body possesses.
Susan’s giving her nothing.
“Lucy!” Susan snaps, looking cross.
Lucy flinches, is put aback at Susan’s tone. Susan has never raised her voice at her, ever. Not like this. Lucy’s heart tightens. Her cheeks are flushed, she is sure.
Susan draws to a quiet, is staring at Lucy, thinking she has acted perhaps too recklessly. Susan breathes a sigh of mellow exasperation, steps forward from her dresser, places a hand on Lucy’s shoulder, voice placating, like it is enough, like it will do, “Look, I am sorry, Lucy. But you have Edmund and Peter with you, yes?”
“Yes, but-“
Susan silences Lucy’s protests. “Then no buts. You don’t need me. You have your brothers, so you can go play in your little Narnia now with nothing to worry about.”
Lucy feels like she’s been slapped. She swears she can’t breathe.
Her throat closes, constricts. She can’t get a word out. Her eyes are burning, prickling, irritating. Lucy refuses to cry, doesn’t want to look even more like a child in front of Susan.
“Oh, Lucy,” Susan sighs a tender sigh, takes her in her arms, is holding her sister like she means it, like she used to hold her before. “Oh, Lucy..”
Lucy’s not crying. She is not going to degrade herself any more than she has.
Lucy can’t see anything beyond the mist in her eyes, the salt in her sight, the blur in her vision. Susan’s all warmth and familiarity, but so cold and different and new all the same. Lucy’s gripping Susan’s dress tight, her hands bunching against the silk. Lucy doesn’t want to let go, is afraid, so, so, afraid of what will happen if she does.
Lucy feels like she will lose Susan forever if she lets her hands go.
Susan’s touch is a gentle caress, a circling rub of reassurance at Lucy’s spine. Lucy’s body tingles and she finds herself relaxing despite herself, still isn’t letting go, still too terrified too.
Susan is detaching first, let her hands drops, expecting Lucy to follow. It takes Lucy longer.
Lucy’s just standing still, her head buried against Susan’s bosom. Lucy lets go at Susan’s gentle insistence, memorising her voice because she thinks it is important. Lucy needs to remember this. She takes a breath, takes it all in.
Lucy lets go. She has her eyes on the floor, the unshed tears drying on its own. She doesn’t look up, can’t bear to look Susan in the eye. Knows she will shatter into nothingness if she does.
Lucy knows now.
She knows Susan doesn’t believe anymore and it is breaking Lucy’s heart to know.
Susan’s gathering her things, saying things that Lucy can’t hear anymore beyond the screaming and crying inside, is saying I love you, Lucy like she really does, is brushing a kiss on Lucy's forehead, stroking Lucy’s hair lovingly before she leaves.
Her heart is dying, Lucy feels numb all over.
Lucy can’t even remember if she ever hears the click of the door as she sags to the floor, her valiant spirit breaking into nothing.
Susan walks out. She doesn’t even look back.
NOTE: Written with the help of lassiterfics & elendraug in this Susan/Lucy thread. Thank you for all the info & inspiration! ♥