Good Solstice, milliways_bar

[jack_inthegreen]

In the gray pre-dawn light, the man in green has been busy.

There are rows of trestle tables set up by the lake--far from the new grave as well as anything else that might be disturbed by such things--and on the central table he sets up the horn of plenty he carved the day before. Now he lays a hand on the wood and quietly asks the elements around it to fill the horn and assemble themselves, so that there will be plenty to eat and it will all be nourishing and tasty. When he has done this the horn begins to fill and soon food is spilling out: fruit and bottles of wine and loaves of bread and slabs of cold cooked meats and wheels of cheese and whatever else a patron might think to ask for.

At the end of the rows of tables there is a wooden platform, with a small raised stage for musicians and plenty of room for dancers. Jack has found no one to play pipes but no matter, there are still musicians aplenty should anyone wish to dance. And he hopes they will, for what's a celebration without dancing?

Beyond the tables there is a small course set up for races, just a starting- and finish-lines marked off. There is a large rope for tug-of-war, various props like sacks for sack races and spoons for an egg-and-spoon race, and a pitch for bowls and another for playing horsehoes. He thought about playing tossing the caber but decided that might be pushing things a bit, even here.

Farthest from the bar proper is the bonfire, currently unlit. He pauses there and asks the fire within the wood to do no harm to anyone, that there will be no stray sparks or wayward ash to burn.

There is a great deal of magic at Milliways for him to draw upon and soon the party preparations meet with his satisfaction. He blesses the area before he goes back inside for some more rest before the party begins: that no one will be hurt in play or eat themselves sick, that not even a dancer's ankle be turned.

When he is done the morning fog is just beginning to burn off. It's going to be a beautiful day.

Comments

[jack_inthegreen]

The red rose is blooming, a deep rich red with velvet petals.

There are other flowers growing nearby. Jack's beloved bluebells. Daisies and silkflowers in yellow and blue and forget-me-nots and violets.

[sai_delgado]

The sight of the rose brings the first true smile she's had today, and she bends to touch a petal lightly, as if in thanks.

Susan looks around at the other flowers with the smile still lingering-- for the little glade is growing well, say true. Her glance falls on the silkflowers, then, and she stares.

Delicate blue silkflowers-- ever her favorites on the Drop, and something she'd not seen since she died-- grow next to bright yellow ones, which she's never seen before.

(Mr. Arthur Heath says they have them in Gilead)

Susan kneels down beside them, and reaches out a trembling hand to touch the blossoms.

They're real, oh aye.

[jack_inthegreen]

They are real, and they grow because Jack asked for pretty flowers to please her.

[sai_delgado]

She's still for a moment, one hand lightly resting on the petals of one yellow flower as the gentle breeze stirs her hair-- and then Susan carefully picks a few of them, blue and yellow combined, and stands back up, cradling them in her hands.

Far more are left to grow than were taken, and her smile is bright and blinding, even as she blinks back tears.

[treading_dawn]

The golden Lion is wandering about, relishing the sounds of joy around him, and he passes by the flowers. He pauses to appreciate them.

consider the lilies of the field . . .

[sai_delgado]

She looks up from the flowers in her hands-- and sees him.

The Lion.

Susan Delgado's eyes widen abruptly, and she can do nothing but stare.

[treading_dawn]

He bows his head to her. "Daughter of Eve," he says in his soft rumbling voice.

[sai_delgado]

She curtseys very deeply and says, "Good day, sai Lion--"

Her voice is trembling a little, mayhap with wonder.

"--I don't-- I don't know how to greet ye, or to call ye, say true--"

[treading_dawn]

"I am called Aslan in my lands, son of the king over the sea."

[sai_delgado]

"Sai Aslan," she says, and oh but her smile is sudden and bright and awed as well.

"Thee helped Caspian-- are ye from Narnia, then?"

[treading_dawn]

"I am. He is a king in my lands."

[sai_delgado]

"He's a friend," she tells him softly. "But I didn't-- I didn't realize that ye-- ye were the Lion."

[treading_dawn]

"I have kept the forests when I come here," Aslan says quietly. "There is much for me to ponder here, at the end of all things."

[sai_delgado]

"I'd-- I'd imagine so, mayhap," she says -- a little nervously, say true.

"But the forest is nice-- I ride there, betimes."

Somewhere inside, she's vaguely grateful for having had practice in speaking with the Seven-- but this is a Lion, and although mayhap he's not of her world, Susan Delgado kens well the stories of the Guardians who keep the Beams.

[treading_dawn]

"The forest is a wild land and I am comfortable there," Aslan says. He pads closer to her. "Do not fear me, child. I mean you no harm."

[sai_delgado]

"I-- I don't mean to, sai Aslan, say true," Susan tells him. "I'd just-- thee are the Lion. A Lion."

There's something about the weight of the word that's -- more, somehow.

"Like-- like one of the Guardians, that we were taught about."

(the stories are true)

[treading_dawn]

"I am a Lion," he confirms gently. "My lands are wild lands, and a wild creature governs them."

[sai_delgado]

"We-- we're well-met, then, I hope."

He's very near to her, and although she's still awed and wondering, somehow she finds that she's not truly afraid-- and her smile is bright and shining.

[treading_dawn]

He nudges her lightly with his cool nose. He smells of meadows and summer and honey.

"We are well-met indeed."

[sai_delgado]

He is the Lion, and as he bows his head to nudge her, Susan Delgado raises a tentative hand to touch his mane.

His breath is warm on the air, and his very presence is a comfort-- and she is not afraid any longer.

A moment more she hesitates, and then she dares, oh, she dares-- and she reaches up with both arms to hug him, breathing in the scent of

(home)

his mane, which somehow reminds her of joyful days spent on the Drop.

[treading_dawn]

Aslan licks her cheek like a mother cat and purrs deep within. "No fear," he tells her softly.