ASLAN
COURT Seelie
CURRENT RANK ✮ ✮ ✮
TITLE The Anointed (✮ ✮), The Word of Life (✮ ✮ ✮)
OCCUPATION World Maker
ABLE TO FAST-TRAVEL The ability to teleport anywhere within the lands of Glaschu.
RESIDENCE IN 2,701 A lion needs no bedchamber.
RESIDENCE IN 2,702 Still not tame.
MAJOR EVENTS
HIGHLIGHT
Description [ ✖ ]
HIGHLIGHT
Description [ ✖ ]
HIGHLIGHT
Description [ ✖ ]
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PLANS
Making contacts and learning more about the drabwurld itself. Aslan will also be making his way around the world map during the summer months and working to reverse the damage left in the Jabberwock's wake.
SUMMARY OF KNOWN DETAILS
During his first year in the drabwurld, Aslan will have traveled across a good portion of the world map, met and interacted with a number of people, and successfully tackled the rot problem left behind in the wake of the Jabberwhelp. He will spend all of June, July, and August trying to revitalize the land, especially the areas around Caer Glaem, the Cothromach, and the Station. He will be sending out a call sometime towards the end of May to ask people to join him in this endeavor. (Map of the Jabberwhelp's path.)
TIMELINE OF EVENTS
| SPRING IN 2,701 (Mar, Apr, May) |
- MARCH - Chatting it up with Waver Velvet! Discussions about Gilgamesh (that hooligan) and Jabberwhelp rot is very likely. Aslan will also meet Saber (Alter) and Rin Tohsaka for the first time later in the month!
- APRIL - A meeting with Aragorn early in the month! Also sayin hi to Diarmuid at the new training grounds at Caer Glaem!
- MAY - Towards the end of the month, Aslan sends out a call for those interested in healing the rot of the Jabberwhelp.
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| SUMMER IN 2,701 (Jun, Jul, Aug) |
- JUNE - Aslan's journey around the world map begins. Attempts to heal the land of the Jabberwhelp's rot begin in earnest, starting in Caer Glaem.
- JULY - Anti-shardbearer sentiments are acknowledged and ignored. Healing process continues.
- AUGUST - Aslan arrives at the Station in early August. Still working on the rot-affected areas, possible run-in with forest golems on the rampage! Towards the end of the month, he will toe the border of Dorchadas and cross over into Unseelie lands.
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| FALL IN 2,701 (Sept, Oct, Nov) |
- SEPTEMBER - Healing effort continues. A close call with patrols leads to a handy rescue by Wan, and Aslan's journey around the drabwurld ends. By the middle of September he will be back in Glaschu. Possibly attending the wreath festival in Treun.
- OCTOBER 25-30 - Aslan attends Samhain. Possibly in human form.
- NOVEMBER -
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| WINTER IN 2,701/2,702 (Dec, Jan, Feb) |
- DECEMBER - Description
- JANUARY - Description
- FEBRUARY - Description
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| SPRING IN 2,702 (Mar, Apr) |
- MARCH - Description
- APRIL - Description
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eachdraidh
April
Early April - Caer Glaem
He didn't bother taking a break, given he wasn't hungry or weary. Lancer simply trudged along without worry, whistling the whole time.]
no subject
As Lancer goes about his business, he may encounter a strange sight along the outskirts of the city - a rather large lion stretched out in the sun, apparently in the middle of an afternoon nap. One might almost think he was a house cat if not for his size.
What do you do? ]
no subject
It wasn't out of reverence or concern for himself. Lancer operated the same way a junior would keep out of the business of a senior, just for the sake of letting them rest.
At the end of the day, when everyone had headed home and he was left to his own devices, he took a few drinks from the local tavern and approached Aslan with them. He wasn't of the opinion that gods needed particular shapes--they just lounged in ones they found attractive. So, approaching him with a raw steak might not have appealed to him.
Ale, though--that was a universally preferred offering, he thought. So, he sat and waited for Aslan to wake up or to at least stop acting as if he were asleep. As a creature who no longer needed to do such a thing, himself, he wouldn't have been surprised if it were just him enjoying the quiet.]
no subject
In truth, Aslan barely sleeps -- he dozes, perhaps, but he is aware enough of his surroundings and those who pass him by. Some stare, but few seem willing to approach.
Either way, he has his fun in the sun. When Lancer returns, he only has a few minutes to wait before Aslan rolls over and...straightens somewhat. Not sitting, still stretched out on the ground, but apparently "awake".
A brief yawn happens, and then he's staring quite pointedly at Lancer...or perhaps more accurately, those drinks. Maybe, possibly, the sight of them tickles his sense of humor. Bacchus and Silenus, he is not, but it is a gesture well-meant. ]
Good evening.
no subject
Sure it was.]
Evenin'. Noticed you were conked out for quite a bit there, bro'.
no subject
Trust is rarely an issue with Aslan; he simply has a way of choosing his own timing.
The lion rumbles softly -- a sound that, coming from a lesser feline, might have been very like a purr. ]
I have traveled far over the last several months.
[ Certainly more than he usually does on foot. The challenges of getting from point A to point B were never such an issue in Narnia. Even so, it is good to exercise sometimes. ]
The sunshine is refreshing this time of year.
[ He tilts his head slightly. ]
And yourself? You have been working rather hard, have you not?
no subject
Guess you could say I'm not, really. For me, this kind of thing isn't at all difficult. So, I can't feel the same pride a carpenter or a farmer would feel at the end of a long day.
[It wasn't what he took pride in.]
It feels more accurate to say I've just been helpin' a bit.
no subject
He smiles. ]
It is a worthy cause. Protecting one's lands and people does not always involve the use of a sword or spear.
[ Sometimes, it's the little things that are most important.
A brief pauses follows, and Aslan blows quietly on the rune, making it all the brighter for the breadth of a few seconds. Sheer light before it turns back to flame. Then, tilting his head, he considers Lancer quietly. ]
I believe you know me.
[ Or at the very least, what he is. A being of light and beginnings. ]
no subject
Somewhat. Unfortunately, I was supposed to have met someone like you, before.
[On the verge of death, he remembered a beautiful man who briefly took the shape of a raven, saving him and whispering for him to sleep soundly while he took care of the battle. At that time, he was certain he met his father, the real god of light.
It was the only time they met, leaving a sore spot in his heart that he never addressed even once. Lancer was simply the type of man to busy those things as deep as they went.
Aslan's light seemed somewhat different than Lugh's, but that must have been because of the darkness in his heart from the wars he took part in. Lancer didn't feel as if Aslan was the type of creature to feel guilt like a man would.]
But, I'm not too sure. He was definitely as radiant as you are.
apologies for the lateness of this tag ;~;
Aslan listens to Lancer's words and, in answer, smiles faintly. ]
Those of us who live outside of time often occupy similar roles in the life and balance of our worlds.
[ More direct parallels are few and far between, but he knows of at least one.
Lancer is right, however, in assuming he is not the sort of creature to feel guilt like a man. He has never been one, and for all that his appearance can change, he will always be something more. ]
I cannot say we are the same, but we would know one another if we met.
Late April - Harp Event Narrative
It is something he is unused to, something that a creature of his stature has never found necessary before his arrival in the drabwurld. As the Creator of Narnia, its King and Overseer, Aslan has ever known the path he must take moving forward. From the foundation of the world, his vision was written into the very fabric of existence with authority and certainty. Now, separated from his children and rendered nearly blind, Aslan works with his shard – the one link he has to the place he truly belongs.
Having been shown the basics by Diarmuid, Aslan finds his task isn't exceptionally difficult – or at least not at the level he is currently trying to master. He managed to awaken his shard the first time, and thanks to Diarmuid's guidance, it is becoming easier to access. The green light that is becoming ever more familiar, has a soothing feeling to it, a warmth that calls to his own inner light.
It is this light that makes him sing.
The memory of his world, the Creation shaped by his own Word, a Song of Beginnings – the moment the stars first found their airy, tingling voices, the triumphant burst of light when the sun rose for the first time, when the trees began to dance, and waters became divine... Aslan thinks on these things as he brings forth the light of his shard, a soft, lilting note of sound rising in the air, a vibrant hum that might very well be tangible for all the space around him seems to shimmer. Were he closer to Caer Glaem, it's entirely possible he might have been noticed. A singing lion is a strange sight in most places, including the drabwurld, which is why he lingerscloser to the woodlands – trees that are still stripped and devoid of life...except they stir, upon hearing his song.
Intent upon his work as he is, Aslan almost doesn't notice the music that soon joins with his. It rises with his high notes, and falls too as a more earthy sort of rumble escapes him. Fur bristling a little, Aslan growls softly, instinctively as the sound persists. The pitch of it is strange, unnatural – something that doesn't quite belong even though he cannot pinpoint exactly why. Not at first.
Tail twitching in an agitated fashion, the sounds he makes deepen, lower, rougher, hinting at something wilder, more dangerous. His frustration over being separated from his own world is slowly being made manifest, and in time, his concentration and connection with the shard breaks. A rare fit of anger swelling inside him, Aslan rises to his feet and releases a terrifying roar.
Brittle, rotting trees crack behind him, a light tremor moves through the earth, and any animals within the immediate vicinity spook and flee. There are no words, only a thunderous expulsion of emotion he would normally never show or allow to rule his actions. He is better than this, patient and kind and forgiving. For now, though, a darker melody plays, and for about an hour, Aslan races through the countryside, all snarls and discontentment. He is doing things he should not have to, enduring inconveniences he should never should have been saddled with, and above all else, he seethes over being stolen away from his rightful place. He is the linchpin of his world, the one who was there before the Beginning, destined to reign even after the End. He should not be apart from it, and none of this is right...
Or so he tells himself until the melody that interfered with his falls silent.
Aslan stops abruptly, his fury suddenly fading as the lingering taste of foreign magic fades into the air. The day grows dim, the stars will soon be shining, and for a long moment, Aslan is...at a loss. He realizes how easily he was affected by the power of another, how his flesh burned and began to slough away during his encounter with the young Jabberwock), the reality of pain and mortality he has endured in times past, but usually at his own discretion.
Aslan looks around him, at the trail he has left in his wake – splintered trees fallen in his wake, a sort of silence that ought not be, even with the rot still so much in evidence. A twinge of guilt brushes his conscience, yet another sensation he is unused to, as he looks upon the mess. The lands that have been torn asunder and rendered lifeless already deserved no further ire from powers beyond the human scope.
Moved with regret, Aslan turns about and slowly re-traces his steps, singing softly once more in the cool of the evening. The reparations do not come instantaneously, and life does not spring forth immediately. It is a gradual mend, a bringing together of disrupted soil and trees that have fallen down. They move, straighten, and recover what has been lost in the wake of his rage...but still they do not yet bloom.
Aslan considers this too, for a long while, before his song rises once more, calling for life and an abundance thereof. Branches crack and stretch as old bark falls away, replaced by the new. This is his own power, not the power of the shard, and even as life comes forth from death, Aslan is still sober.
The stares have already begun their dance across the sky when Aslan is finally finished. A swatch of greenery now exists in a mostly barren land, and Aslan considers his work with a somber air. The power he wield, the deep magic meant to bring life to emptiness, light to a void; he does not know how far it is proper for him to stretch forth his (figurative) hand.
Glaschu requires a healing. He already knows this. There are other places too that made need the healing touch that he can bring.
He is still undecided, however. Still uncertain how much he ought to invest himself in a world that is not his own.
Balance in all things.
Aslan contemplates these things late into the night, and though he does not often sleep, he does dream. He walks through darkness, through the sharp, bitter cold of Nothing, towards an eerie sound that speaks of Endings without Beginnings.
It is a difficult path, his paws hurt and grow numb, but he continues. When he has gone far enough, it is a harp that appears before him, and he recognizes the same magic as before.
Face stern, Aslan stares at it a moment before drawing closer, the music pulsing with subtle violence across the landscape of his dream. He lets it play for one minute longer before he's had enough.
Aslan's maw opens, and a sound the likes of which very few have ever heard comes forth. It is a roar of triumph and of power, and echo of worlds crashing together, of the sun, moon, and stars suddenly crackling to life in a brilliant burst of light.
The harp shatters, and brilliance floods Aslan's dreamscape, illuminating the far corners of every mountain and valley, every sea and every nation, from the southern lands of Calormene, to Etinsmoor and beyond.
Narnia burns brightly in his mind's eye, a beacon of all that is good and right that has been wrought with his power. His judgment is no less sound or sure than it ever was, and a peace and contentment fills him as he stands at the edge of his own lands.
He smiles as he looks at it all and remembers.
The next morning, Aslan rises from his slumber refreshing and rejuvenated. He greets the morning with a roar and a easy romp through newly healed woodlands.
He is ready once more for adventure.