☼ 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]

The boy named Harry arrives, not too sudden and not slowly either, just right, one might say, just as he must or should or is meant to. This is the impression Luna has, wide eyes taking him in from atop the kingly lion, descending now, basket carefully in tow. She doesn't, as of yet, leave the great cat's side, one hand still curled into his fur, a soft hold. Something about the dark haired boy is familiar, something about the eyes and the way he carries himself, something about sadness that helps to mark happiness, and something about a fragile sanity that only some people understand. None of this is even that literally or figuratively clear in her head, but the feeling is all there, the notion of familiarity and the comfort in thinking I can trust this person, all over in the soft flicker of a glance

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

[nevertame]

He feels eyes upon him before he even sees the young man though one can say Aslan had known when Harry would arrive before he actually did, but he will never share the truth or intuition of this

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

[wholivedagain]

Had his life gone differently, this would be a scene from a story book. The wooded area with the girl riding the lion, flowers overflowing her basket, as she shows off the fruit of her labor. Harry notes, too, that he doesn't recognize some of the flowers, but this can easily be written off due to his lack of knowledge or care (there were always flowers outside the house where he grew up, but he recognized them better by the bush where they grew and whether they brushed against his face as he hid from his cousin and his friends). But the image is not one from a book, instead making Harry wonder what an animagus would be like if he were a lion, and if Dumbledore himself could ever achieve such a transformation. And if he could, would he be like this creature

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

[suncolors]

Sometimes the only comfort to be had is that of the confession that maybe it is out of reach, for a while, that nothing will necessarily make one feel better or replace that which has been lost. This perspective could be called depressing as soon as it could be called honest, and more obviously so, but children are empathetic creatures, more often than not, if sometimes under the veil of that youthful petulance in joy or temper. Similarly here, the blond finds herself gravitating to the boy with eyes like his mother's, eyes she thinks she recognizes. Perhaps he has been a part of her life after all, and Luna is more given over to believing whims or fanciful thoughts than most others, at this age and older. As it happens, she gets that from her mother, though it could easily perceived as coming from her father, who, when compared, is less the optimist and more of the dreamer, because you can certainly be one and not the other

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

[wholivedagain]

There are indeed many flowers that Harry does not know the name of or only recognizes by their passing familiarity-once again, those days of hiding in the bushes before his aunt and uncle's house-but this is not one of them; its name is one that isn't lost on him, because of the fact that it is rather important. Little he knew about his mother and father growing up, it was impossible to forget that his mother, the woman who died for him, to protect him, who ensured his safety even after death, shared a name with a specific flower. Her sister was the same, after all. Only the difference was in the fact that Petunia never quite lived up to that given name, he thought. Lily always had. Harry's sure of it

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

[suncolors]

As sometimes is the case, a stronger smile from one side elicits a stronger one from the other, and while the great lion has gone, his presence seems somehow still with them, and even that is cause for the way small, milk-white hand folds gracefully into one she has held before, even if she doesn't know it right now. The City is a strange place, and unpredictable at its most consistent. Whether or not she'll remember this, no one can say for certain, but often feelings can remain where distinct memory blurs into dreams, and more than that, sometimes it is enough. Beside the lion she was even smaller looking than she really is, which is very, but even next to Harry she feels tiny, not quite a child looking up to an adult, but a foreigner taking her first steps through the land that makes her that way

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

[wholivedagain]

Many questions come to him that he realizes he should ask. Has she eaten, how long had she been wandering before he and the lion found her, does she feel safe? The last would be the most important, but she is trusting and calm, the very image of her older self without the immediate whimsicality that Harry's grown used to. The others, however, can wait until they reached the cabin where they all lived. It wasn't far on foot, but far enough that Apparation would almost be a necessity in a moment of moving quickly

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

[suncolors]

Any girl would be able to understand that a home revealing itself in the distance is probably where they are headed, but in this case, the minuscule blond girl has no association of home with that place coming up in front of them like just another well intended puzzle piece in a gripping dream. Despite being told it isn't one, it maintains that dreamlike quality that so often enthralls her, at this age and any following, and this is fine because that sort of actuality is the type that she best is able to wrap her heart around, letting whispers sit on her tongue for a very long time while mild smiles fade in and out like sun filtering down through tree leaves

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

[wholivedagain]

As much as he's paying attention to his surroundings and the younger version of the girl herself, the small turn of the hand is unnoticed. It's not that it's impossible, but some things merely slip under Harry's attention. There are others who may be called heroes because they pick up on every detail, because they swallow this information whole and use it to their advantage, but this is not him. Average as he appears, he doesn't have these gifts, these talents-he simply has the strength to carry on, the surprising ability to hold those burdens. The weight itself makes his steps against the sticks covering the ground no heavier, no louder, than that of someone who hasn't experienced those circumstances, and that's perhaps where he shows that strength the most. If given the choice, the opportunity, he would not mind the lack of sound. But the situation would be depending on certain matters. It's unlikely that if there was a lack of peace, that he would be able to sit back. That was a natural part of who he was