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Aug. 6th, 2007 10:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
queenofmayShe'd put it off.
Through one trip home.
And a mission into The Net.
It hadn't changed the fact it sat there waiting. A pile which she glanced at before she poured herself into her bread. A pile she regarded with weighted resignation after she'd started readying for her day. It was easier to contend with the 'not-end' of a friendship in the silent companionship of rocking waves. Where one wave rode out others crashed in making it impossible to see an absence without a matching beginning to fill the wake.
When she returned from The Net, still in her green skinned sprite form (worried about Bob and Dot more than her own skin), she decided she was tired of the yoke waiting presented.
Marian used her dagger to slice open the letter.
Her eyes scanned it once. Then again. Before she let it settle on to her lap, while she looked out the window.
Good, and God, was a hard thing to believe in. Especially on the lips of a friend now passed beyond the veil.
(Even with 'We'll meet again'.)
Leaving the letter to lay on her lap she turned to the two objects. Her hand rubbed her temple as she looked at the ring, her eyes darting to her own engagement ring.She had a lacking fondness for all rings. Reaching out, she picked it up. Shifting it to one hand and using the tip of a finger to trace the lion.
It reminded her of the times she'd seen it before she'd known and the day he'd spoken so highly of his love for Lucy. She thought about how that conversation had started with her announcement of her own engagement, how she'd had her own ring on a chain.
How that now she bore it on her finger, it still had her chained.
How the whispered conversation of that day, of his first wife's marriage and then Milliways blessing of his Lucy, only caused her to ache over her marriage to Guy still coming and the recent arrival of Robin in Milliways.
Keeping it tucked insider her palm she picked up the tome, admiring the reddened leather and design of the lion on the cover. Turning the first page, she noted the title ("Being a Record of the Journey of Caspian the Seafarer to the East") and the hand writing, as she turned more of then just glancing. It was filled with a beautiful penmanship, neat and small, that was not Caspian's own. She knew that from the singular time they'd exchanged missives over her horse in her early arrival.
Marian read for a long time.
The light rose across the floor. The light came brighter.
The light dwindled. The light left and was replaced by a candle.
There was laughter and love and the scent of lilies, which absorbed all mistakes within the sweet breath and brilliance of a golden lion.
The same, she could not help but connect, as had befit their faces and their leaving.
And as she missed him, in her laughter and her clouded eyes, she missed the passed chance to understand a realm and a life better, she missed the deeper camaraderie time would have given her, even as she hugged the book to her on close, thanking Aslan that he'd been gifted to her upon Milliways.
Thankful she had the time, even it if was short, to have someone who was her bright mirror.
Thankful that in his passing she'd met his Lucy, in her warm words where she'd lapsed in ability before.
"I won't forget," she whispered, softly, tucking the letter into the book and the book between the book ends at the back of her desk, where it kept the company of books given to her by Bar. She had questions she would ask Cora of later; about Aslan and the daughters of eve and the sons of Adam and the sea and lilies and the boy who would be king who had been her friend.
But that, and her embroidery, and the sea, could wait.
Because Marian was done waiting.
She would be brave instead.
She would live today.
Through one trip home.
And a mission into The Net.
It hadn't changed the fact it sat there waiting. A pile which she glanced at before she poured herself into her bread. A pile she regarded with weighted resignation after she'd started readying for her day. It was easier to contend with the 'not-end' of a friendship in the silent companionship of rocking waves. Where one wave rode out others crashed in making it impossible to see an absence without a matching beginning to fill the wake.
When she returned from The Net, still in her green skinned sprite form (worried about Bob and Dot more than her own skin), she decided she was tired of the yoke waiting presented.
Marian used her dagger to slice open the letter.
Her eyes scanned it once. Then again. Before she let it settle on to her lap, while she looked out the window.
Good, and God, was a hard thing to believe in. Especially on the lips of a friend now passed beyond the veil.
(Even with 'We'll meet again'.)
Leaving the letter to lay on her lap she turned to the two objects. Her hand rubbed her temple as she looked at the ring, her eyes darting to her own engagement ring.
It reminded her of the times she'd seen it before she'd known and the day he'd spoken so highly of his love for Lucy. She thought about how that conversation had started with her announcement of her own engagement, how she'd had her own ring on a chain.
How that now she bore it on her finger, it still had her chained.
How the whispered conversation of that day, of his first wife's marriage and then Milliways blessing of his Lucy, only caused her to ache over her marriage to Guy still coming and the recent arrival of Robin in Milliways.
Keeping it tucked insider her palm she picked up the tome, admiring the reddened leather and design of the lion on the cover. Turning the first page, she noted the title ("Being a Record of the Journey of Caspian the Seafarer to the East") and the hand writing, as she turned more of then just glancing. It was filled with a beautiful penmanship, neat and small, that was not Caspian's own. She knew that from the singular time they'd exchanged missives over her horse in her early arrival.
Marian read for a long time.
The light rose across the floor. The light came brighter.
The light dwindled. The light left and was replaced by a candle.
There was laughter and love and the scent of lilies, which absorbed all mistakes within the sweet breath and brilliance of a golden lion.
The same, she could not help but connect, as had befit their faces and their leaving.
And as she missed him, in her laughter and her clouded eyes, she missed the passed chance to understand a realm and a life better, she missed the deeper camaraderie time would have given her, even as she hugged the book to her on close, thanking Aslan that he'd been gifted to her upon Milliways.
Thankful she had the time, even it if was short, to have someone who was her bright mirror.
Thankful that in his passing she'd met his Lucy, in her warm words where she'd lapsed in ability before.
"I won't forget," she whispered, softly, tucking the letter into the book and the book between the book ends at the back of her desk, where it kept the company of books given to her by Bar. She had questions she would ask Cora of later; about Aslan and the daughters of eve and the sons of Adam and the sea and lilies and the boy who would be king who had been her friend.
But that, and her embroidery, and the sea, could wait.
Because Marian was done waiting.
She would be brave instead.
She would live today.