milliways_bar | (no subject)

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The train was actually on time, for once, remarkably enough.

Despite that, they'd been waiting for the better part of an hour, Peter currently standing beside him with the four rings carefully kept wrapped up in the earth-stained bag at his feet.

All week, he had been almost nervous with anticipation. Something was going to happen, he knew that much, but what? He did not anticipate he'd be able to return, of course, nor would Lucy, but perhaps at least Eustace and Jill would manage it.

At the same time, in the back of his mind, he couldn't help but wonder why it was that the others thought it sensible to attempt to find their way back again with the rings. The Professor had told them of the adventure he'd had in his childhood, before the rings were buried in the first place, and it simply hadn't seemed right that they would so easily use the same route again. After all, the Wardrobe had not held the door after their return, either.

The train was on time, and in the back of his mind, beside his wonder and his worry, he knew that not only were Eustace, Jill, and Lucy on the train, but also the Professor, Aunt Polly, and his parents.

The train was on time, for once, but it's coming around the corner too quickly now and then there's nothing but a bright flash of light, as he throws up his hand in front of his eyes -

It doesn't hurt, though, which is a bit of a surprise. He lowers his arm, opens his eyes, and looks around.

This is not London.

This is not Narnia.

This place also does not match the description he'd heard of the Wood between the Worlds, although perhaps it's closer to that than to either of the others, although he does not yet know this.

Edmund Pevensie looks around Milliways, rather confused.

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She thinks. "Well, both magic and techonology are responsible for me being sent into various worlds, or times, or planets, true. And they're both good for healing and fighting and most things, really, if you know how to use them the right way. However, technology is my friend. Technology provides me with hours of amusement, for one, and ways to someday actually get a job in the real world, which I swear I one day will. Magic, on the other hand, does things like rip out my skeleton, or my soul, and thus is not my friend." Obviously, this is a distinction that means a great deal.

"Welcome to the madness, then. And it's fine. I've got coffee." Grinning at her mug. "Would you like something?"

He smiles. "I'll most likely get some more tea later, but I think I'm fine for now. But thank you."

He looks at her curiously.

"Has magic done such things to you?"

"If you're sure." She makes a face. "Unfortunately, yes. I'm not fond of it, given that. With technology, you just get shot at, or electrocuted, or something simple. It's really very digusting to see your skeleton waving at you."

He considers, and discards, several different answers before settling on "... you're lucky to have survived that, I'd think."

"I guess. I mean, he didn't want to kill me. Just. Torture and cause great harm to and possibly break, a bit."

"... He?"

"Belasco. Demon lord. Wanted to unleash a bunch of nasty demon gods on earth. Not a nice guy."

He blinks again.

"Apparently not. You... did you survive the encounter, then?"

It occurs to him that he needs to ask, as Reg had mentioned that there were some here who are dead.

"Oh, yes. And then we met him--well, several times again, really." Silent, then, "I really don't like him."

He thinks a moment, then offers "Are swords effective against him?"

She snorts, as if at a private joke, then, "Only sometimes."

"Pity."

He shrugs.

"I mean, I don't suppose I'd be much of any help against him, but he sounds more than a little unpleasant, whereas you seem quite nice. And I've been rather good with swords on occasion."

Faint smile. "Well, you've only just met me, you know. And have you been?" An interested look.

A faint smile in return.

"I know that. But you've been kind enough to explain that contraption, or at least try to do so, to someone who really doesn't understand it at all. And generally people with the type of enemies who remove one's spine or turn one to stone are the ones who are worth aiding, or at least I hope so."

Another faint smile.

"And yes, I have. I used to have one, but that was a long time ago, really."

"That...sounds like a rather sensible way of viewing things."

"Were you really much good with it?" Not dibelieving, simply interested.

Another smile.

"I try to be sensible about most things, really. It saves a lot of trouble. It's my sister Lucy who's the dreamer, more, although it's my older sister Susan who was the sensible one, more than me."

He shrugs.

"And as for being good with it... I managed to destroy the White Witch's wand, and then keep myself alive enough that I only needed a little bit of magic to survive."

Another other faint smile.

"Most of the magic I've had actually used on me has been of the good sort."

"You're very lucky, then." Headtilt. "Why don't you use one any longer?"

"Well, it's a bit harder to explain to one's parents why when one was ten or eleven years old, one suddenly developed proficiency with a sword while away for the summer, you see."

"Yes, well, it's not much easier even when one's 14, really. So I gather they didn't--don't?--know about your adventure, then?"

"Well... considering that after the first time I went, when Lucy'd been twice..."

He stops, interrupting himself.

"Look, keep in mind I was an utter beast when I was ten, right? But I was terribly mean to her, the first time, and told our older brother and sister that I'd just been playing pretend. They thought for a time she was mad, really."

He bites his lip, with an awkward smile.

"Of course, then we all ended up living there for fifteen years... when we came back, it occurred to us there was really no way any of us could explain it to anyone who hadn't been without sounding just as mad. But this place seems a bit different."

After a pause, "Everyone's rotten at some point in their lives, you know. I'm fairly certain it's almost a required part of growing up."

"Yes, well. This place is very different." Wry smile.

He shrugs.

"I don't know. Lu's always been better to me than I deserve, at least, and whatever Peter might have done... well, most of it I think was just how I saw it, more than what he did."

"Well, that's the lovely thing about people who care about you, isn't it? It's not about what you deserve."

Edmund smiles.

"If I'd gotten what I deserved, then I would have been dead nine years ago or twenty-four, depending on how you choose to count it."

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