(Untitled)

[night_hibiscus]

She really ought to be getting back to Spira, she knows; a quick dip in the lake to restore her bedraggled entrance state and out the door. But of course, she can't; if she leaves, there's no predicting when she'll return, and she promised Lucy--well

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[treading_dawn]

There is a flash of gold in the water, in the corner of Yuna's eye.

And then a voice, deep and rumbling and warm, speaks from over her shoulder.

"Daughter of Spira. We are well met here, this night."

The air, soft and a little chill as it is, is filled with the scent of violets.

[night_hibiscus]

It's cool, all right, but that doesn't explain the chills she feels at that voice.

It's a little like Kimahri's--surely more like Kimahri's than any human's--and a little, somehow, like the unearthly voices of the fayth. But really it's something entirely new to her experience.

She turns sharply, facing fully the blaze of gold. "Oh."

"You must be Aslan."

[treading_dawn]

Aslan, for indeed it is he, inclines his great head in a regal nod.

"I am, child."

There is something infinitely gentle in his eyes as he watches her, solemn and only a little sad.

"Fare you well, here at the end of all things?"

[night_hibiscus]

"I'm all right," she says, honestly. "I was just thinking about Lucy."