Just a little bit
Title: Ace
Author/Artist: Colline (mcollinknight)
Fandom: Chronicles of Narnia
Pairing: Tumnus/Lucy
Disclaimer: It's official: I own nothing.
Author’s Notes: This is just a tide-me-over until my Biology Hag deigns to give me enough time to let me write something more substantial and/or my computer decides to not be a spaz.
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Lucy yawns, stretching out like a cat, arms above her head. She’s content to lie still for the moment, relaxing in the warmth of the blankets and the delicious feeling beneath her stomach.
“Did you sleep well?”
Lucy turns her head, looking over her shoulder at Tumnus, who advances slowly. The corners of her mouth turns upwards. “No,” she replies impishly. “I hardly got a wink at all.”
“I wonder why that could be.”
“You snore something dreadful,” she replies, and then shrieks, raising her arm to deflect the pillow. “You don’t want to be starting that. I’m ace at pillow fights,” Lucy warns, turning around fully to face him.
“I do not snore!”
“Do too.” Tumnus grabs another pillow as Lucy raises her own, cackling in a most un-Lucylike way.
After a few obligatory misses and weak hits, Lucy whollops Tumnus across the neck. Mouth popping open, she begins to apologise, but is silenced by a hit to the nose. Tumnus’ cave lies silent around them, the morning opening up outside as feathers fly, landing in Tumnus’ hair to make it look as though a flock of small birds has decided to roost among his horns. Lucy struggles to keep her balance among the blankets as the pane of glass in the window behind her rattles threateningly in the wind.
Thinking fast, Lucy grabs the end of his pillow and pulls hard. Tumnus stumbles forward, tripping on a fallen pillow and tumbling onto the bed over Lucy’s legs. She throws her head back and laughs, whooping as Tumnus yanks on her ankle, laying her level as well.
The laughter slowly falls out of the air as their eyes connect. Tumnus has a tiny white feather on the end of his nose, and Lucy can count the freckles underneath it. She can feel the heat of his arm on her leg, the heat of his eyes on her face. Outside, the cold spring rain battles with the wind, whipping the fallen warriors against Tumnus’ window.
The beating of Lucy’s heart provided the beat for the staccato music of the raindrops, creating a soundtrack for a Sunday morning. Time froze, and the long journey of their heads coming together seemed to take over an hour. When things finally happen, though, when the bass beats are right beside eachother; when the heads and lips and hearts come together; when Lucy’s fingers entwine themselves in Tumnus’ hair among the little white feathers, time ceases to exist as the camera fades into the morning rain and puddles on the ground, until the cave is only a place in the forest, window filled with golden light, which finally, suddenly, goes off.
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Plucking the Rushes
Green rushes with red shoots,
Long leaves bending to the wind -
You and I in the same boat
Plucking rushes at the Five Lakes.
We started at dawn from the orchid-island:
We rested under the elms till noon.
You and I plucking rushes
Had not plucked a handful when night came!
An anonymous Chinese poem translated
by ARTHUR WALEY
Auguries of Innocence
To see a world in a grain of sand,
And a heaven in a wild flower;
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,
And eternity in an hour. WILLIAM BLAKE