It is a quiet evening, the air still warm with the heat of the day despite the cool breeze blowing over the lake.

And into that quiet steps a tawny-furred figure, mane limned in gold by the fading sunlight.

The Lion is here.

He has always been here.

Some, however, will not be. And it is one such daughter of Eve that Aslan is waiting for now.

There is a tang of winter in the air, the trees are bare, the lake is icy cold--and yet there is still the faintest scent of violets down by the waterline, sweet and heavy.

And should an observer be alert enough, he might catch a flash of gold out of the corner of his eye.

The sunsets are always glorious, here. So, too, are the sunrises. And even in the middle of the day, with the sun high overhead and a cool breeze blowing, everything is almost too beautiful to be believed.

This includes the golden-haired girl (woman) standing out by the water, grass bowing softly around her as she looks toward the east, toward--

( Read more... )

The moon is bright this evening, starlight muffled by its light.

And out of the forest comes a matching light, softening as it emerges from the trees.

The Lion is out and about tonight, walking the boundaries of this place.

Walking, and watching, and waiting for someone very dear to him.

There are a great many to choose from.

It is a warm night, as far as these things go, though there is a breeze coming off the lake.

In the forest, deep among the trees, there is a flash of bright gold.

And then again.

The night is cool and clear, stars twinkling above, reflected cleanly in the lake below.

And in that soft light there is another light, brighter, if more contained.

The Lion is here, pacing out of the forest.

There is something solemn about him tonight.

Solemn, and perhaps a little sad.

1). He loves you.
2). This does not make him tame.

I know I am not where I am supposed to be, but I don't know where I am instead. However, changing where I am does not change who I am. I am still Aslan, and I am still King, somewhere.