called_lioness | (no subject)

Entry tags:

lucy pevensie,
yuna

(no subject)

She slept late--well, that's half true. She woke when Caspian did, because he tripped over Lavender getting out of bed and knocked half the nightstand over.

It involved a minor fire (his pants), a slight burn to the fingers (hers), and entirely too much excitement before tea was had (for either), in Lucy's opinion. And no chocolate at all, thank you. Which isn't something that she's going to stop thinking about in the next few days, Lucy thinks, and is vaguely irritated by this.

But she's the blessing of not needing to rise so early as he, so she'd taken the chance to go back to bed, after fires were put out and burns tended to.

And she's not precisely grumpy, but Lucy finds she could use some peaceful moments after a morning starting like that, and so she's found herself a mug of tea and gone out to walk by the lake. Corella will likely be taken for a ride, later, but for the moment it's nice to stretch her legs.

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"Centaurs are--well, half man, half horse. Dryads and nymphs are just--spirits, in a way. Of trees and rivers and lakes and such. But then, I don't know what Ronso or Guado or Hypello are. Nor Al Bhed, though you say they're human?"

Lucy finishes what remains of her tea before answering. "It's strange to live in a world with only one type of people, really. Or--I was born there, in London, and it wasn't strange until I saw there was anything else. And after living in Narnia--it was very strange indeed, to see only one race in the streets. I don't know that I ever grew entirely used to it again."

"Oh!" She covers her mouth with her hand. "How strange, and interesting."

"Al Bhed are human," she repeats, firmly. She turns her head when she says it, her hair slipping down over her right eye. "They just don't follow the teachings of Yevon, and they deal with forbidden machina."

"The Guado live the forests of Macalania. They're not very different from humans--they're shorter, and they have longer fingers, and funny hair colors. Patterns, on their skin."

"The Hypello are a little bit like frogs, and they live in the rivers and lakes. They raise shoopufs. And the Ronso--they're like cats," she says smiling. "They're very tall, and they have horns, in their foreheads." She touches her own. "My friend Kimhari is a Ronso."

"How lovely!" and she sounds delighted.

There's something oddly comforting in hearing of worlds with creatures other than humans. "But what are machina? And Yevon, for that matter? And oh, oh! A Ronso's like a lion and a unicorn, then!"

Yuna laughs; Lucy is full of questions. "Yevon is the church," she says simply. "Yevon teaches us how to deal with Sin. And machina are complicated machines. They attract Sin, but that's not why they're forbidden. It's--wicked, to use them. It's why Sin was sent to punish Spira."

"And I don't know what a unicorn is," she says, finally. "Ronso are like lions, yes, but they walk like humans."

She is indeed. Curiosity has ever been a trait of hers, really.

"Oh. I see." Lucy isn't quite sure how to respond to that one.

But she doesn't really think she's qualified to say anything about religion, especially one not her own, and so perhaps it's best to say nothing. For the only other option, really, is to ask more questions, and she's not sure it wouldn't be rude.

"It's--like a horse, with a horn on its forehead, but should you meet one...it feels a bit different," she concludes, "to meet a unicorn than it does a horse. Unicorns are more--I'm not sure if 'regal' is the word I want, but it's close."

"Oh dear, horses, again?" Yuna giggles. "There aren't any horses in Spira, you know. But it seems like they're very important to everyone else's world."

"No?" She looks almost--almost--horrified.

"I don't know--I suppose they're important to worlds, but I do love mine dearly. Is it strange that that is the first thing you've said that seems truly otherworldly to me?"

"I don't know," Yuna says politely. "It's strange to me to think about trees and streams having spirits."

"From what people have said about horses, it seems like we have chocobos to do most of the same things. They're big yellow birds with long legs."

"I suppose it would be," she murmurs and looks at the trees instead of the lake.

There's no dryads here, not that she's seen, but you can still see the shape of what the dryad would look like. If you know how, and what to look for.

Old man--little boy with long curls--middle-aged woman with green-grey skin and pale silver hair.

"Oh! Is that what that is? I think there's one or two in the stables. I'd no clue what they were." And she adds, a moment later, "Spira does truly sound lovely."

"Really?" Intriguing!

"They're really very sweet creatures. We have them in our boat now, driving the paddlewheels." She smiles at Lucy's words. "I've only read about so much of it, really. But I'm looking forward to all the places I'll see on the pilgrimage."

"Is Narnia an otherworld from London, then? Or just a different place?"

"That's brilliant, that you'll get to. And no," and she has to laugh. "A different world entirely. It's--I found it, when I was a child. By accident. And I lived there for several years, with my family before going back to London. But Narnia was ever home."

"Oh," she says. Thoughtful: "I have--a friend," she says, rushing over the last words, "from another world. At least, I think that's what it is. He can't get home. It seems like people here know a lot more about travelling between worlds than we do in Spira."

"Oh?" Lucy blinks, a little, and twists her mug in her hands.

"Aye, well, it's the nature of this place," she says finally, and a little wryly. "I'm...sorry he can't go home, though. It's hard. Though I think it must be better that he has a friend, at least, with him."

"He didn't get to Spira from here," she says. "At least--oh!"

"He never said so," she says slowly. "But that was before I knew he came here, too."

"I meant more--people here tend to get used to the idea of other worlds. Mayhap he came from here or not, but I don't think there are many here who would be surprised to hear such news."

She shrugs, a little. "Sometimes the door doesn't let people go home."

She nods. "When I first came here, I wasn't able to leave for a day."

"Are you able to come and go, then?"

"I...have different rules to follow than many," she says after a moment.

"I died a year ago. If someoen opens the door for me, I can go to their world. But if I open the door for myself, I can only go to Aslan's Country through it. And I can't ever go back to my own world."

"Oh," she says, a little still.

"Aslan's Country--is that like the Farplane?"

"I think it's like a lot of things," she answers.

"But mostly home and peace. If that's like the Farplane, then yes."

"It is," Yuna says quietly.

She's not sure how much she should tell Lucy, about who she is, or what she does; it doesn't seem like a happy topic.

"Who is Aslan?" she asks, instead.

"Oh, he's the Lion, Yuna," and there's something in the way she says it like that should be enough.

But she knows it isn't most the time, so she continues with a small smile. "He's the King. King over all others in Narnia. All other kings and queens must swear obedience to him. His father is the Emperor over the Sea, and he's--he's not tame, not at all, Yuna, and if you meet him it's the most terrifying and wonderful thing both at the same moment. He defeated the Witch and ended the Hundred Years Winter in Narnia, and he works the Deepest Magic from before the Dawn of Time, and--and he's the Lion," she repeats, softly, still smiling.

When Lucy thinks of Aslan, everything else fades away for the moment, like it barely matters.

"Oh," she says.

She smiles warmly. "He sounds--wonderful, but I think there's still a lot I don't understand."

She looks sheepish after a moment, and a little younger.

"I rambled. I'm sorry, Yuna."

"No," she says quickly, apologetically. "We just come from different worlds. Three worlds."

She picks the phrase that intrigued her the most: "A hundred years of winter?"

"The White Witch," and Lucy does not often spit names like they're something distasteful from her mouth, but for some there must be exceptions, "she cursed Narnia. For a hundred years. Always snow and ice and winter, and never holidays or warmth or spring. That was how I found it, when I was a little girl."