.., again [interlude]
Jul. 6th, 2025 09:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
quote_gentle_unquoteA letter, folded at the bottom of her middle desk drawer.
Dearest Edmund,
You told me once that I needed to set aside my unrelenting drive to insist that I know what's best for everyone without holding their perspective in mind. It was during one of those endless fights about Narnia, before I started to suspect that you might also have homosexual inclinations, when I was telling you to set aside the childish games or else no girl your age would want to give you the time of day. I'd forgot about that argument - and your righteous fury - until a recent fight with a lover struck a similar chord. I suppose I am that sort of busybody. I see a path with clarity, and even for all of my careful attention and planning and note-taking, I suppose I do let anything else fall away.
I'm not given to tremendous amounts of time spent in fantasy, save for the sort I shan't be telling my little brother about, even if he is dead and this is a letter he shall never have the opportunity to read. Sometimes, though, I do envision what I'd most like if I had one chance to see anyone from the family again. I believe I must be in a good place with Lucy, after her visit. Anything else that might improve upon our relationship, such as it is, would necessarily be longer - what's broken between us now can't be resolved in a single day. And I suppose there's a good deal that Peter and I ought to have out, since our relationship has always been the most fraught. But mostly what I imagine is you here, and not just for a visit. I told you once that I'd hate to rip you from Heaven, but I do believe that was a lie. You don't belong there, and I mean that with the greatest respect imaginable. (I do acknowledge that this is my tunnel vision yet again, but here it's harmless, I think, as it hasn't got any chance of success.) You ought to be a living, breathing man with mortal interests and the opportunity to grow into yourself.
I imagine you here often. In conversation with Bacchus, perhaps, sorting out how he's different to the one we knew in Narnia. There's a library here that would make you weep with joy, and all sorts of people with whom to discuss your readings. For example, whilst you know from my letters that I find Enjolras tediously chauvinistic in a variety of ways, I do expect that he'd engage in political debate with you, since you're a man and an expert in the field. Or my scientific partner, Galahad. (Yes, that Galahad.) I think you'd like him very much. There are myriad wasy in which he reminds me of you. You're both tremendously thoughtful and observant, slow to speak but always, always assessing the situation. He's unafraid to ask questions in a way I think you might find delightful. You'd like his husband, too - Claudius is a diplomat and a scholar of people. And there are some girls here, too, who I expect you'd get on with. They're all from such terribly different worlds, with such unique perspectives, and you'd delight in all the vagaries to understand. Do you remember your excitement when you learned you were exactly the same age as the discovery of Pluto? One of the girls is from a future where she grew up there! You'd flourish here, is what I'm saying.
The fight I mentioned, with my lover - it made me realize that I haven't truly got any home but this one. I needn't have your graves to grieve you. The bodies inside are just fragments, anyway. Here I've got my box of letters and an unsettling growing assortment of chess-pieces from our old board from Cair Paravel. Claudius is helping me grow a toffee-fruit tree and fensey from fruits I've acquired through magical means, and pavenders have spawned in the ocean, not just the ice-box. Impossibilities in England, and impossibilities in what Narnia has become, as well. I do miss Ingrid, but very little else of London. When I miss Narnia - which isn't consistent - I expect it's because I miss the innocence of childhood and the possibility of having any sort of clarity of faith. Don't get me wrong. I loved Narnia very much at the time. But Aslan was correct when He chose not to kill me off with the rest of you and take me to his land. Thank you for being my one occasional defender until that point, but I truly have outgrown it.
Instead, I'm building my life here, and I'm happy to do so. I believe I've made friends with a man I oughtn't have had an assignation with when I first arrived. It took a great deal of work on both our parts, and initially I believe we were both making the effort for the sake of the man I love, but I believe that we've stopped talking across each other and have started to understand each other. We're nearly done with a gift for a friend who was murdered and then restored to a different body. The friend is tremendously homosexual; the gift is a calendar of naked men with their manhoods barely obscured. - Oh, I can imagine the look you would be giving me, if I were to tell you this in person, so please, Ed, do imagine me blithely ignoring it and continuing on as if this is a normal thing to hear. But this place, it seems, is thoroughly and on almost every level better-suited to my interests than what I was able to build in London. I've got an assortment of lovers who all know of each other and haven't got an issue with the fact of each other.
As you will have gleaned from my letters, Lancelot does stand head and shoulders above the rest. I love him in a way that sometimes frightens me. I've never known a person (besides you three, of course, and of course that's obviously different) who has made me feel utterly willing to set my own interests aside if it should happen to improve his life. When I'm with him I start contemplating things I discarded long ago as sources of dread, mantles I might only don for the sake of my family. The difference is now that dread seems to have vanished. I wonder, sometimes, if you would be more inclined to find this good or bad. Perhaps that's one of the many selfish reasons I would like for you to be here: so I could discuss it with you, at length, and hear the fullness of your thoughts on the matter.
Of course I don't get on with everyone, but then that's never been my particular proclivity; it's Lucy's. You know how stubborn I can be. You're the one who told me of my troubles with considering others' perspectives. You know I'm not particularly bothered so long as I've got respect. You wouldn't get on with everyone, either, but you'd have friends. It needn't just be me. You could find lovers of your own, if you liked. At the very least you could find likeminded companions.
This is pointless. You shall never read it. I love you. I miss you. I long to fight with you again. I'm afraid of the vagaries of my own memory, that I may be crafting an understanding of you (and the others) that is increasingly inconsistent with reality with each passing day. I haven't got you to set my perspective straight any more. Am I turning you into a caricature of the Edmund that was? Shall I be able to blame Aslan for this, too?
Love,
Yours in the fading halls of our own history,
your bullheaded sister,
Susan
Dearest Edmund,
You told me once that I needed to set aside my unrelenting drive to insist that I know what's best for everyone without holding their perspective in mind. It was during one of those endless fights about Narnia, before I started to suspect that you might also have homosexual inclinations, when I was telling you to set aside the childish games or else no girl your age would want to give you the time of day. I'd forgot about that argument - and your righteous fury - until a recent fight with a lover struck a similar chord. I suppose I am that sort of busybody. I see a path with clarity, and even for all of my careful attention and planning and note-taking, I suppose I do let anything else fall away.
I'm not given to tremendous amounts of time spent in fantasy, save for the sort I shan't be telling my little brother about, even if he is dead and this is a letter he shall never have the opportunity to read. Sometimes, though, I do envision what I'd most like if I had one chance to see anyone from the family again. I believe I must be in a good place with Lucy, after her visit. Anything else that might improve upon our relationship, such as it is, would necessarily be longer - what's broken between us now can't be resolved in a single day. And I suppose there's a good deal that Peter and I ought to have out, since our relationship has always been the most fraught. But mostly what I imagine is you here, and not just for a visit. I told you once that I'd hate to rip you from Heaven, but I do believe that was a lie. You don't belong there, and I mean that with the greatest respect imaginable. (I do acknowledge that this is my tunnel vision yet again, but here it's harmless, I think, as it hasn't got any chance of success.) You ought to be a living, breathing man with mortal interests and the opportunity to grow into yourself.
I imagine you here often. In conversation with Bacchus, perhaps, sorting out how he's different to the one we knew in Narnia. There's a library here that would make you weep with joy, and all sorts of people with whom to discuss your readings. For example, whilst you know from my letters that I find Enjolras tediously chauvinistic in a variety of ways, I do expect that he'd engage in political debate with you, since you're a man and an expert in the field. Or my scientific partner, Galahad. (Yes, that Galahad.) I think you'd like him very much. There are myriad wasy in which he reminds me of you. You're both tremendously thoughtful and observant, slow to speak but always, always assessing the situation. He's unafraid to ask questions in a way I think you might find delightful. You'd like his husband, too - Claudius is a diplomat and a scholar of people. And there are some girls here, too, who I expect you'd get on with. They're all from such terribly different worlds, with such unique perspectives, and you'd delight in all the vagaries to understand. Do you remember your excitement when you learned you were exactly the same age as the discovery of Pluto? One of the girls is from a future where she grew up there! You'd flourish here, is what I'm saying.
The fight I mentioned, with my lover - it made me realize that I haven't truly got any home but this one. I needn't have your graves to grieve you. The bodies inside are just fragments, anyway. Here I've got my box of letters and a
Instead, I'm building my life here, and I'm happy to do so. I believe I've made friends with a man I oughtn't have had an assignation with when I first arrived. It took a great deal of work on both our parts, and initially I believe we were both making the effort for the sake of the man I love, but I believe that we've stopped talking across each other and have started to understand each other. We're nearly done with a gift for a friend who was murdered and then restored to a different body. The friend is tremendously homosexual; the gift is a calendar of naked men with their manhoods barely obscured. - Oh, I can imagine the look you would be giving me, if I were to tell you this in person, so please, Ed, do imagine me blithely ignoring it and continuing on as if this is a normal thing to hear. But this place, it seems, is thoroughly and on almost every level better-suited to my interests than what I was able to build in London. I've got an assortment of lovers who all know of each other and haven't got an issue with the fact of each other.
As you will have gleaned from my letters, Lancelot does stand head and shoulders above the rest. I love him in a way that sometimes frightens me. I've never known a person (besides you three, of course, and of course that's obviously different) who has made me feel utterly willing to set my own interests aside if it should happen to improve his life. When I'm with him I start contemplating things I discarded long ago as sources of dread, mantles I might only don for the sake of my family. The difference is now that dread seems to have vanished. I wonder, sometimes, if you would be more inclined to find this good or bad. Perhaps that's one of the many selfish reasons I would like for you to be here: so I could discuss it with you, at length, and hear the fullness of your thoughts on the matter.
Of course I don't get on with everyone, but then that's never been my particular proclivity; it's Lucy's. You know how stubborn I can be. You're the one who told me of my troubles with considering others' perspectives. You know I'm not particularly bothered so long as I've got respect. You wouldn't get on with everyone, either, but you'd have friends. It needn't just be me. You could find lovers of your own, if you liked. At the very least you could find likeminded companions.
Love,
Yours in the fading halls of our own history,
your bullheaded sister,
Susan
Open: In a shout of joy at the only shrine where you come benighted and leave benign
Jul. 4th, 2025 01:23 pmvineleavesDark has come and gone again, which means it’s time to party.
In some ways the party is very similar to last year’s - same large banquet room in the mansion, a similarly large abundance of food and drink, and the promise of a night full of letting loose for everyone in attendance. It’s far from a direct clone of the previous party though. For starters, Dionysus has had Claudius help him in all of the planning (sometimes a god’s blessings come in the form of enrichment for one’s enclosure). They’ve gotten several of the mansion’s residents to agree to play live music during the night, and Dionysus was able to find some, ah, more widely appreciated CDs to play during the breaks between performers.
The room has been decorated to the nines again, but where last year he had green vines draping on the walls diffusing the glow from the twinkling fairy lights, this year he has strung up swooping vines of silver, glittering almost like tinsel. The large food tables have an almost ridiculous amount of things to munch on; there should be something for everyone there.
It should go without saying that the beverage tables are well-stocked, considering the host.
The festivities are starting a little earlier this year than last, out of respect for those who may or may not have earlier bedtimes. Come dressed in your finest, it’s a yearly tradition now!
Just as there was last year, there is to be an ‘after party’. If your character is part of the standard Orgy Invite Crew, they will have received another invitation to that half of the evening as well. Just like last year, this part of the event is to be handwaved, for obvious reasons.
In some ways the party is very similar to last year’s - same large banquet room in the mansion, a similarly large abundance of food and drink, and the promise of a night full of letting loose for everyone in attendance. It’s far from a direct clone of the previous party though. For starters, Dionysus has had Claudius help him in all of the planning (sometimes a god’s blessings come in the form of enrichment for one’s enclosure). They’ve gotten several of the mansion’s residents to agree to play live music during the night, and Dionysus was able to find some, ah, more widely appreciated CDs to play during the breaks between performers.
The room has been decorated to the nines again, but where last year he had green vines draping on the walls diffusing the glow from the twinkling fairy lights, this year he has strung up swooping vines of silver, glittering almost like tinsel. The large food tables have an almost ridiculous amount of things to munch on; there should be something for everyone there.
It should go without saying that the beverage tables are well-stocked, considering the host.
The festivities are starting a little earlier this year than last, out of respect for those who may or may not have earlier bedtimes. Come dressed in your finest, it’s a yearly tradition now!
Just as there was last year, there is to be an ‘after party’. If your character is part of the standard Orgy Invite Crew, they will have received another invitation to that half of the evening as well. Just like last year, this part of the event is to be handwaved, for obvious reasons.