Title: Nostalgia
Day/Theme: 17. Squeal
Series: Chronicles of Narnia
Character/Pairing: Susan Pevensie (a little Susan/Caspian)
Rating: PG13



Brakes squeal a sharp protesting note as she steps out into the street, head down, bag tucked against her side. Down the street, not an intersection problem, not connected to her; a dim, fuming shout rings out, an argument breaking out between two men. Susan doesn't bother to glance.

The wind plucks at her hair, and her shoulders, opening her coat out around her legs. It's starting to rain; the drops patter down on her hair and cheeks.

In a shop window, a faceless white mannequin stands in a studiously casual pose, one arm half extended. A crimson dress slides over her featureless molded body, draped over stiffly sculpted breasts and hard curved shoulders.

It's been years since she could wear a red dress without thinking it was the color of blood. Even in Narnia, it persisted; the one time she wore one after that very first battle and did not think of wounds was riding through the Telmarine city behind Caspian, knowing the dress--nearly the color of Reepicheep's proud feather--was one he thought beautiful on her.

The thought passes through her mind and gone in a second; she shifts the strap of her bag on her shoulder, makes it to the opposite sidewalk. Mist drifts between buildings, muffling sound.

The city is quiet, now. Not like London's never-ending cacophony of life and dissent. There is human detritus everywhere, but these streets, though empty, are too polished for their tastes.

And besides--though the memory is fleeting, and fleeing, and tattered, Susan is well aware that she can take care of herself. Eventually maybe all that will be left of High Queen Susan is her hauteur, but now--for now--she is dangerous, and she walks in the dead of the night with her ghosts and her grief unafraid.

Tags: susan pevensie, susan pevensie/prince caspian x