driftfleet | .01 where have you gone my feather-light heart?

Entry tags:

.01 where have you gone my feather-light heart?

Who: Susan Pevensie
Broadcast: Video
Action: Marsiva
When: March 25th

Action/Accidental broadcast
[Susan wakes up, and that is the first thing that's wrong. She isn't supposed to be waking up; she's supposed to be stepping through space and time and returning to the place where she now knows she belongs. Her brothers and sister are supposed to have come with her, and that is the second thing which is wrong: a quick glance to either side of her under the strange light (the third thing which is wrong) shows that though there are other beds, she is quite alone. She quickly sits up, feet swinging to the floor with a swish of long skirts (a forth thing that is wrong), and glances around her. Her voice is tart, anger and irritation (something has gone very, very wrong) disguising a gnawing fear.] What is going on here?

Susan glances around for any clue, but this place is foreign; far more so than Narnia had been. The sterility reminds her of a hospital in better days, the days before the War, and there is a strange, canned smell to the air. There's strength in her step as she strides to the window, strength more than Susan from London and she realizes that the Narnian air hasn't left her completely, and it is a very good thing indeed as standing at the window she suddenly finds it very hard to breathe. Hesitating, she places a hand flat on the cool glass as she stares and stares into a night sky.

She is in a night sky. Impossible was a meaningless word, but it was still the first thing she thought. Since impossible was a meaningless word, and Susan was, at her heart, a very practical person, the first thing she did was turn away from the window. The second thing she did was take a deep breath, gaze darting everywhere for any sign of her family, any hint of a weapon (she'd left her bow back in Narnia, given her horn to Caspian - Caspian - and there was no hint anywhere of the sunshine which followed Lucy, the warmth that was Peter, or the perception that was Edmund, making a joyous raucous in such a sterile, sterile place. She would look for them anyway. Surely she wouldn't have been the one sent off on an adventure on her own. They had to be here.)

After finding someone on the ship to help her, the video purposefully flickers on. The camera is initially too close, and picks up part of a conversation--]

[Deliberate Video]
--like this? [A muffled answer, a shot of light, intent eyes, and then the camera pulls back to frame only Susan's face. She is doing what she can to not reveal the dress.]

I've been given to understand that this device communicates with those assembled here against their will. I am sure this is not an unusual request, but any further information about the nature of this place or how we all came to be here [Is it Magic? It doesn't feel like Magic.] would be greatly appreciated.

...and if anyone has heard of my brothers, Peter and Edmund, or my sister Lucy, I would appreciate you contacting me. [She adds, as if this was not a driving force behind her finding out how to make such a post in the first place.] Thank you.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

No. I doubt he'd ever let me.

[ That's a funny thought though. Leto is not Aslan's biggest fan, mostly due to what Susan has told him and it's probably bad for two god-like creatures to interact so closely. ]

I know it because you told me. Another version of you, from a different time, a different place. With . . . different choices taken.

[ It's a little bittersweet, seeing her again. They never promised each other anything save this one resolve - that they'd always tell each other the truth. He never kept anything from her. She never doubted him. ]

[Another version. Differences in time was nothing new, being in different worlds was not so very foreign, but a different version, an entire other self. She felt a little dizzy with the thought, distinctly uncomfortable and oddly exposed.]

What - [She paused for a moment, trying to get a corner on this thought even to phrase her question. She couldn't think of a way to say it without exposing how vulnerable and lost she felt, and Susan did not want to do that.

But if she - if any version of herself trusted this stranger with the blue, blue eyes - then maybe it didn't matter so very much.

And even if it did, she knew she had to take the risk anyway.] - what does that mean?

To you? Or to myself?

[ It was a change in fate, but Leto cannot force it on her or encourage the same choices. ]

To the Susan I knew, it meant letting go of the guilt and moving forward with her family.

[ That's why Leto and Susan worked so well together. Nothing meant more than their families. ]

[...guilt? Moving forward with her family? What did that mean? She swallowed.

Focus. One thing at a time.

Breathe. Steady. Don't waste your shot.]

I meant - another version of myself. I'm not... sure what that means, exactly. Or how such a thing could be possible.

[Although 'possible' was also a meaningless word.]

We were in a place called Aather, a place of magic. Where wishes could be granted if you worked for it. We saved that land from itself as we learned of ourselves. Our memories had been taken and we started anew.

[Oh, magic. That explains... a lot. It didn't really explain doubles, but it explained... a lot.

The memories bit - she'd heard that before. (Part of her selfishly wondered what it was like to have that chance - to start over. To have to fight and earn your memories, to have so much of an ability to choose. It is terrifying in the same way that so many things are.)]

...do you know someone named Nova?

We hail from the same place. She is Nova. I was once . . . Dune.

[ Not a name he uses anymore. Only a select few know of it now. ]

[And that was the second question she'd almost asked. She wanted to know his name.

I was once...

She knew a bit about being one thing once, another thing at another time. She knew a bit about how it - lingered, left echoes and stains in everything she did.]

Did you like - [no, that wasn't the right word] - was it good? To start anew? Did it help?

[That was, she realized, probably too personal a question. But then, he'd known who she really was. The entirety of her. So maybe it wasn't entirely too personal.]

Help can only be given to those who wish to be helped. It taught me much. It did not change my fate, but absolved my regrets towards it.

[ It is the best answer he can give her. The reason changes for everyone. ]

[That rings true for Susan. She thinks about her last goodbye to Narnia; for her a matter of hours. Aslan had said something about learning all they could in Narnia, and while she wasn't entirely sure what it was she had learned besides how to say goodbye, she knew that wasn't entirely fair or true. She'd learned about bravery, and loyalty, and sacrifice, and hope - even if right now it felt just like goodbye. At least, however, it was goodbye without regrets, leaving knowing she'd done all she could and that she could trust Caspian with her country.

In the end, though, she doesn't say any of this, even though she pauses for a moment, sorting through her memories and setting them aside. She tilts her head slightly to the side.] What is your name?

[ He bows lightly, to signify respect. ]

My name is Leto of the House Atreides. The name won't mean much, I'm afraid. It's a name, one of my many.

[Well, he's right about that. The House tells her something of nobility, but not of Narnia or Archenland or even Calormen, as he said so it didn't tell her much. It did tell her his name, however, and that was what she'd wanted to know. It wasn't all she wanted to know, but it was a very good start.

It's still a matter of habit to nod back. She's sitting so it's not a light curtsy, but it's acknowledgement.]

I'd introduce myself as well, but it seems a little late for that.

[And he already knew more than she'd probably initially say.]

You are welcome to.

[ After all, she is a different Susan, from a different time. She is not his starlight, the steel-forged warrior queen. ]

[There was certain amount of relief in that. Susan always felt a certain amount of pressure to live up to expectations, and to be welcomed to introduce herself meant, she thought, at least acceptance of the differences. That felt very important.]

Then my name is Susan.

[Not Susan of Finchley or Susan of Narnia - still she felt very much in between, was at a loss as to how to reconcile the two, but there was one part of her which she always was: Susan, sister of Peter, Edmund and Lucy:] Susan Pevensie.

[ His smile is genuine and soft. ]

Welcome to the Fleet, Susan of Pevensie.

[Oh. It's a little strange to hear it said like that - she's been 'of' many things before, but never 'of Pevensie'. It gives her a little thrill - it feels right. While her returning smile is tentative, it is no less genuine.]

Thank you, Leto of the House Atreides.

[She has the sudden, incongruous thought that Lucy would like him.]

Edited 2016-03-28 04:08 (UTC)

You are most welcome.

[ He wonders how she sees him and dismisses it immediately. Such idle thoughts would be counterproductive. And dangerous. ]

[This seems to be either the natural end of the conversation or something that calls for a transition. There is something almost - apart - about this conversation in a way that she can not quite put her finger on, but which she is astute enough to wish time to consider. She is hesitant to go where it may be dangerous to tread, but there is still more Susan needs to know.

She held his gaze and her smile for a moment longer before simply telling her head, letting her smile fall into focus.] I appreciate the welcome and the welcome, but I would like to know more about this 'fleet'. These are not any sort of ships I am familiar with, and fleet certainly implies a purpose...

Fleet does imply a war-like purpose, but it does not seem to be the case. It is just a group of ships with people much like yourself. Taken away from home and brought here by the Atroma to fulfill some kind of need for entertainment.

[ He doesn't believe it, but he recites it anyway. ]

I wasn't, though. [She would have stopped that impulse if he didn't already know.] I wasn't taken from home. Not quite.

[A fleet of entertainment? A purposeless place? ...why?]

Narnia was a home. I did not misspeak. You did grow up there, once upon a time.

Neither did I. [The response is a little hot.] That wasn't what I meant.

[She is not entirely sure she wants to tell him what she meant. He knows entirely too much about things that are as precious as they are painful, and while that means this is no longer a secret to him, Susan is aware that this is far from a private conversation.

And his knowledge doesn't give him the right to an opinion, there are very few she admits into the secret counsels of her heart. He doesn't get to speak of home, and all the songs Narnia has left inside her that she has not yet decided to mute or not (if she even ever could make it silent).]

[ He doesn't react in the face of her anger. Nothing about him wavers. It's not stubborness, simply that he is placid, like a lake. You could not see the ripples underneath. ]

Only you would know what you meant, then.

It would probably help [her tone is far more controlled, and though the iron is still there it is not sharpened to cut] if you didn't assume you knew.

[They hadn't talked about Narnia in the year they'd been between, not really. Hadn't spoken of friends they'd left behind, responsibilities left undone. There had been no going back. At least, that was what she had thought; she'd been wrong. Now, though, she knew for certain.

It was that certainty, that she would never be going back, that she was supposed to be going home which had her continue to extend enough trust to try and sort this out with a stranger. A stranger who knew Narnia.] I was supposed to be going home. [She said instead, not the whole story but enough, she thought, to keep to the knot of the problem.] We all were.

[Where are they? If they're not here, did they make it home? Or are they in a place equally as strange and alone? Or - worse?]

[ Assuming is not the right word for it, but he'll let her decide what assumptions they are. She doesn't know his powers and that's best left for another day. Still . . . she is so young. It was hard to look at her. ]

Then we come to the crossroads. What do you know and what do you believe? I know, but is there a point if I cannot be believed?

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