"It's fine, you're fine," Susan says, almost out of habit--it's what she used to say to Lucy when she would fall and scrape her knees. But this is far worse than a scrape knee--Susan doesn't have to be a doctor to know that the spear piercing the nymph's abdomen is bad and that Lucy is woefully far off with her cordial. "You'll be fine. Just--just breathe with me-"
The nymph, Sinope, gasps a breath but her eyes do not see Susan. It's not fair--the fighting was over, the battle won. The hag that speared Sinope like a needle through a bug fell to Susan's arrow with no ceremony, but now Susan can only brush the nymph's hair from her face. Sinope, lovely and kind Sinope, who'd braided Susan's hair yesterday after her bath to help keep it out of the way, who'd sang her and Lucy to sleep with a lullaby the first night in the camp when the noises kept them too keyed up to sleep. Susan had asked her if she'd be a lady in waiting for her and she'd blushed with pleasure.
It's not fair, Susan thinks as she stutters out a reminder to Sinope to take a breath--where the hell is Lucy?--and then, the nymph is gone. Delicate pink blossoms flutter to the ground and the spear falls into the grass with a dull thump.
Susan blinks, but there is no magic cordial to save her, no Old Magic to turn back this travesty and make it right. There is only a gruesome spear and pile of blossoms in her lap.
"You... you didn't breathe, Sinope," she mutters, but only the wind hears.
Narnia, Susan+OC
The nymph, Sinope, gasps a breath but her eyes do not see Susan. It's not fair--the fighting was over, the battle won. The hag that speared Sinope like a needle through a bug fell to Susan's arrow with no ceremony, but now Susan can only brush the nymph's hair from her face. Sinope, lovely and kind Sinope, who'd braided Susan's hair yesterday after her bath to help keep it out of the way, who'd sang her and Lucy to sleep with a lullaby the first night in the camp when the noises kept them too keyed up to sleep. Susan had asked her if she'd be a lady in waiting for her and she'd blushed with pleasure.
It's not fair, Susan thinks as she stutters out a reminder to Sinope to take a breath--where the hell is Lucy?--and then, the nymph is gone. Delicate pink blossoms flutter to the ground and the spear falls into the grass with a dull thump.
Susan blinks, but there is no magic cordial to save her, no Old Magic to turn back this travesty and make it right. There is only a gruesome spear and pile of blossoms in her lap.
"You... you didn't breathe, Sinope," she mutters, but only the wind hears.