(no subject)

Two weeks of civil war, with the town slowly collapsing inwards as the “easy battle” does not cease. Her students grow nastier with each passing day—either trying to shield themselves from the rest of the town’s pain, or taking advantage of it. She can no longer tell. Cora can feel her heart hurting. She does not have the strength necessary to endure war.

 

When she finds herself in the woods, that afternoon, she begs whoever she is listening to just let it stop. That someone wins—Caspian, her sensible side reminds her, you want Caspian to win—but ever more she doesn’t care who does. Just that the death will stop; even if her people win it will be a reprieve.

 

As long as the war is finished.

 

(no subject)

There’s music outside the window.

 

It’s loud, and clamorous, and joyful, and Cora—in the middle of writing an equation on the blackboard—can’t help but set down her chalk and look out, curious and wistful and somewhat nettled (how are the students supposed to concentrate with the ruckus, after all?).

 

There are revelers coming, and there’s not better word for it—dancing, and glad, and at the front of them…a lion?

 

She has to grasp the frame of the window to stay standing, heart painful with confused hope.

 

He stops right under the window, and he looks up at her, and her head starts shaking back and forth before she can even speak. “Oh,” she says, unhappily, “don’t, don’t. I’d love to. But I mustn’t, I must stick to my work. And…the children would be frightened, if they saw you.”

 

"Frightened?" comes Linus’s voice, sneering, from behind. Cora bites her lip, but she can’t look away from the Lion’s eyes. “Who’s she talking to out of the window? Let’s tell the inspector she talks to people out of the window when she ought to be teaching us.”

 

They boys come crowding, and push her out of the way—but there’s a ululating cry, and Cora isn’t quite sure what’s happening as the boys shriek and flee and she’s left there staring down at him.

 

“Now, Dear Heart,” says the lion (Aslan, her mind tells her, still not utterly believing), and she leaps down to join them.