☼ TWENTY 7☼ [audio]

[suncolors]

Oh...

That's odd.

[ a small hmmm and the sound of twigs and whatever else snapping or brushing away under tiny feet ]

Perhaps, a dream.

I wonder if I'll see my mum this time. That would be nice

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there's a wide white roar, drop a bell down the stairs, hear it fall forevermore

[nevertame]

Well young lady with the golden hair and moon's milk on her skin, the woods may be quiet and perhaps some of the creatures there do fear approaching your curious wayward ways, but this lion holds no such reservations. He walks between the trees as if he too has a purpose in this forest that may not have anything to do with hers, but eventually their paths will cross because she is stepping this way and he is pawing that way.

there's a wide white roar, drop a bell down the stairs, hear it fall forevermore

[suncolors]

With a wayward way indeed, though less fettered by the intricacies of remaining obtuse without trying, still bare but tinier feet pad over twigs and leaves and roots, an equally tiny arm curled around a basket, flowerless as of yet, though her intent was to fill it when going out. Treading now through unfamiliar woods, her hold on the basket isn't any tighter, her heart not beating any faster, but her eyes are wide and unlike the great cat, she lacks purpose almost entirely.

That boy said it wasn't a dream, but what then?

He also said she could still, possibly, see her mum though, and that's a little odd, even for Luna. She would have to admit she doesn't understand, but she pauses near the stream, crouching down to run pale fingertips across the moving surface, basket set to one side.

there's a wide white roar, drop a bell down the stairs, hear it fall forevermore

[nevertame]

Her calm manner in his presence doesn't pique his curiosity because he already knows who he is watching. They have met before on some occasions, some more obvious than others. The great lion walks to the water's edge and leans down to drink, ever aware of her, even laying his fiery amber eyes on her, but not saying a word. Instead a low purr rumbles from his throat, after he lifts his chin from the cool surface, drops reflecting light on the tips of his fur. Where the light comes from would be hard to explain, there are many shadows in this wood but none of them can touch him without permission, no light will be excluded unless it is his will. Aslan sits now, his size so much greater than hers even when he is at ease...though this is not the same as saying he is safe at the moment. The lion gives all creatures reason to fear but only to those with their ears shut and their hearts closed. She is not one of those creatures.

there's a wide white roar, drop a bell down the stairs, hear it fall forevermore

[suncolors]

Truth be told, Luna probably couldn't close her ears or heart any more than she could live without breath--even at this age, or maybe particularly, as is often the case, a soul more willing to take root in the otherwise unimaginable. Summer's nearness makes the water seem cool rather than cold, and when the warm being sits not far, she glances up through the darkness. Moonlight plays on her, turning her star-white, but the lion still seems somehow gold, silver edged perhaps. Strange yet fitting.

Old and new.

"Hello," she bows her head a little, not knowing why, white fingers curling in black earth, dirt getting under her fingernails. Well, at least they match her toes now.

there's a wide white roar, drop a bell down the stairs, hear it fall forevermore

[nevertame]

"Hello," says the warm voice tinged with a great cat's purr.

He hardly expects her to be surprised by the sound of a Talking Lion, and he is so much more than that. But for now a Talking Lion will do. Already the widening of pupils tells him she recognizes a glow about his silhouette, something that is always there. It's only a matter of who has eyes and a mind clear enough to recognize it.

"What are you collecting," he asks, nodding to her basket.

there's a wide white roar, drop a bell down the stairs, hear it fall forevermore

[suncolors]

Turning, some children are graceful, but Luna never has been particularly so, and never really will be, so when she pushes herself to standing again it is not a smooth ascent, but she does scoop up her basket at the same time, despite that. As if it is self explanatory, she tilts it toward the formidable feline, taking a few steps closer, not nearly as tentative as she ought to be or as others might be automatically.

"It was supposed to be flowers," she answers, voice with a tinge of what will, in not so many years, become that vaguely dreaming and sing-song tone she more often carries, but for now it's just soft, a whisper amid whispers. What she doesn't add is for my mum, but her eyes do avert to earth covered toes wriggling in the soil beneath.

When she looks up again, it is to take another step forward, lower lip caught between white teeth,

there's a wide white roar, drop a bell down the stairs, hear it fall forevermore

[nevertame]

"What kind of flowers do you seek," Aslan asks, ever mild and gentle in manner but not one to be underestimated. His majesty and grace lie in how he knows when and when not to sheathe his claws, when and when not to bare his teeth. But anyone with any sense regarding those who cannot be tamed would know the teeth and claws are always there.

"Would you enjoy help on your way," he adds thoughtfully, mane shaking the same way a breeze makes the blades of grass bow.

there's a wide white roar, drop a bell down the stairs, hear it fall forevermore

[suncolors]

"Any," she smiles, a little closer to an expression she might where now, though she doesn't know it. Near enough to find some comfort in his presence, in the warmth and the odd familiarity, she lifts a hand the slightest bit only to drop it again. More child than anything else at the moment, she can't help if, though unafraid, that creeping feeling lately of being somewhat alone steals up on her like her own shadow, blending in under cover of night,but still there when clouds roll past

there's a wide white roar, drop a bell down the stairs, hear it fall forevermore

[nevertame]

"It's always all right with me, dear one," the lion nods before picking himself up off his haunches. On all four he stands with enough grandeur to light the night, but Aslan has no need of obstructing the natural order of things for the sake of his own grace. It's recognizable to those with eyes wide open well enough, and her expression is no exception.

"Do you wish to walk or climb on my back," he asks while massive paws pad till he stands beside her. It's no small favor to ride on a lion's back, but tonight, Aslan feels it would help her more than simply please her.

there's a wide white roar, drop a bell down the stairs, hear it fall forevermore

[suncolors]

Rather than answer him with words--even if he is a Talking Lion, obviously--the tiny blond reaches out a hand to first pet, as one might a house cat, and then hold onto, though not too tight, leaning her face toward him as well. She thinks he has the smell of daylight and wide blue skies, and it makes her want to cry just a little, but she refrains for the moment, able to focus still on how nice he is being, and how she isn't very brave in his presence but that he isn't very frightening either, equalizing circumstances perhaps

there's a wide white roar, drop a bell down the stairs, hear it fall forevermore

[nevertame]

Ever hair is like a ray of spring and the scent is indeed of daylight, of northern skies, southern suns, western woods, and eastern seas. All of these things remain a part of him and one cannot exist without the other. It's the smell of creation, death, and rebirth. As for holding onto his mane well obviously the lion doesn't mind. For being such a wild beast his fur is soft and smooth, like the plushest velvet woven with silk.

"No. Not at all," Aslan shakes his head, just enough to make a solid gesture but not enough to tug tufts from her hands.

"On my back. We'll fill your basket together with all the flowers you wish to find. Perhaps you'll keep them for yourself, perhaps you'll give them to your friends."

there's a wide white roar, drop a bell down the stairs, hear it fall forevermore

[suncolors]

"Perhaps," she supposes, quiet upon quiet, clambering a little awkwardly onto his back, but once there, situated quite comfortably, tiny, tapered fingers curled kindly into the soft fur that is warm and inviting, a place she could fall asleep, embarrassing as that might be. She doesn't, of course, basket slung under her arm before, now tucked carefully there again.

"Perhaps both," she restates and smiles lightly, pressing her face against him again like the closeness will make her feel as though everything will be okay, outside of her own machinations of optimism, no less genuine, but still young and very flawed. Absently, she wonders how the great lion feels about flowerets threaded into his mane---too girlish? Hmm. Something to consider, and it is such an amusing thought that if, in feeling so comforted, warmth pricks wide blue eyes, she still maintains her mild smile, as if reminder herself things not only will be okay, but they don't have to be always.

It's something she'll tell others, and often, in later years.

there's a wide white roar, drop a bell down the stairs, hear it fall forevermore

[nevertame]

"Then let's waste no time, and do not drop your basket," he smiles.

Never too girlish. In fact he'll encourage the adornments because what else are flowers good for besides growing and celebrating things like happiness shared? And he is a comfortable mount which should come as no surprise to any young lady, queen or not. Without saddle or bridle he is still very safe but those beneath his feet should be wary of his weight despite how the lion moves like a wind through the leaves. Of course Aslan doesn't run through the woods too quickly. How else would Luna manage to appreciate the scenery? They are not riding together to reach a destination in the shortest amount of time, they are riding together for the sake of riding, for the sake of appreciating the gifts of the wood, for the sake of flowers and maybe a smile. He will know when to slow down if she sees something worth investigating, he will know when to keep moving if she sees something that when stared at for too long only reminds her of sadness.

there's a wide white roar, drop a bell down the stairs, hear it fall forevermore

[suncolors]

She doesn't drop her basket, doesn't drop anything, from the tangible to the not, and she breaks the silence only once or twice, one of those times being to ask if a boy named Harry might come and find them. Night has never been a bad time for Luna, if her name is any measure to take note by, only in that she can find, usually, even at this age, something good or true about any hour. Still, there is something particularly more comforting about how this lion seems to embody sunlight, a reminder that the night is technically lit by that self same entity, if through a reflection, and in that, perhaps, it is just a way of letting someone or something else shine as well, all always in one sky. Her mum liked all kinds of flowers, truthfully, and maybe it's more that flowers will make her father feel better too---because a smiling reminder of the recently departed is better than none

there's a wide white roar, drop a bell down the stairs, hear it fall forevermore

[nevertame]

And all this time, like the sun itself, the lion with lips black and muzzle tawny furred still manages to express a smile like any Son of Adam or Daughter of Eve would. It's brightness reaches out to warm the others, children, flora, and fauna alike in this forest, on this dark night. To see them walking along the woods, flowers entwined into hair, one might not think it's night at all. To see a lion entertaining--not the same as indulging--the company of children is another wisp of summer's breath. For Aslan, although he knows them to be very different, he is still reminded of two children with green and yellow rings, a touch of sadness, a yearning to have friends, and the wonderment of seeing he whose very song brings a world to life. All of this considered, the great cat would say it has been a good night, and it can continue to be that. The flowers in his mane will not wither until he believes it's their time.

"Your thanks is my pleasure," he replies, coming to a stop where moss pads the soles of the feet, or paws in his

there's a wide white roar, drop a bell down the stairs, hear it fall forevermore

[wholivedagain]

The mention of the friendly lion would have been enough for Harry to leave Luna alone if it were different, if she were not so young and alone, if he weren't so familiar with her situation. He knows the feeling of having lost a parent, of vying for them in a dream world beneath a flash of green light and nothing else; he knows the fallacies and the truthfulness of it, and regrets telling her that maybe, maybe she could find her mother there in the City. But saying otherwise seemed wrong, being harsh and blunt had never served him, and he wished to be gentle toward the girl with the familiar voice