the high king

[octoberinspo]

SENTENCE STARTERS. Flirty/Suggestive/NSFW Edition.

[ardentbitch]

octoberinspo:

Feel free to add your own.

“You’re really hot.”

“Oh, don’t mind me. Just enjoying the view.”

“You know, those/that ______ of yours are/is pretty distracting.”

“Hot damn.”

“So, you come here often?”

“Well, well. My night just got better.”

“Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”

“You have got a great ass.”

“Hey, I’m open minded.”

“You enjoying the view over there?”

“Keep sweet-talking and this could go a whole new direction.”

“Don’t be bashful. You know you want to.”

“You can have me any way you’d like, baby.”

“You wanna move this conversation someplace more private?”

“I’m off in a few minutes, you know.”

“It’s been a long day. Why don’t we help each other unwind?”

“I think it’s about time we stop avoiding the obvious.”

“I’m gonna be honest with you. I’m really horny, and you’re really hot. Can we fuck? Like, now?”

“I wanna see you get naked.”

“You like how I bend over for you, huh?”

“You’re getting me all worked up.”

“What do we have here?”

“I see someone’s happy to see me.”

“Play your cards right, and I just might have to put you on speed dial.”

“You like that, don’t you?”

“How do you want me?”

“I’m sure we can put those lips to better use.”

“I want you. Right here. Right now.”

“God, you’re perfect.”

“I really like a man who’s good with his hands.”

“I’d be more than happy to show you a good time, if you’re looking for one.”

“I saw that. You just checked me out.”

“You look real good in that suit/dress/skirt/outfit.”

“You wanna help me out of this ___?” (Insert article clothing here.)

“Can I keep you?”

“You’re such a tease.”

“Oh my, looks like I/you dropped something.”

“I love it when you talk dirty.”

“I can’t stop thinking about your hands on me.”

“I think you’ll be happy to know that I’m not wearing any underwear.”

“I really want to take you home and get you out of all those clothes.”

“It’s like you want to ruin men/women for me.”

[aslanredacted]

“Stay.” ( aslan + katya )

he watches her for a moment.

a moment long enough to let the span of a single breath, a handful of heartbeats to pass through his body.  yes she does not breathe.  her heart does not beat.  and he wonders how painful it must be to exist within time and yet not be able to measure it in the way he does…  to be present and to exist but not to truly be – alive.

he doesn’t say anything.not a nod or a gesture to even indicate that he’d heard the softly spoken word.

but he does move - stepping to one side to pick up a blanket, before moving to sit close to her on the couch - his body warmer than hers by far.  and he drapes a broad arm across her shoulders and the blanket across her knee.

she may be cold.

but he has warmth enough to share.

@expuracordis

[aslanredacted]

“I just — I’m breathless, okay? Whenever I’m with you, it happens.” / from peter .

he can’t help but chuckle.  another of those booming sounds.  one very large hand clapping the young man on the shoulder and patting it in a friendly gesture.

❝ i’m still the same person you offered to buy a drink for in the marketplace, peter.  before you got… ❞ 

the same hand lifts and waves vaguely in the air - as though indicating something ephemeral.

❝ …starstruck by a name.  and that’s all it is - a name.  i’m just like anyone else… well… mostly. ❞ 

he corrects himself.  not too many shifters ventured into the lands of men.  mostly because they didn’t actually like them very much.  many of those encountered were harsh, brutal, cruel… but aslan likes them.  because they can be so much more than that… 

…it’s probably a good job that he hasn’t actually shifted in front of the king yet - as gleeful as it may be to the lost boy, he may get carried away, a giddying delight that would send him spinning into one of those chaotic tumults of boundless energy - always bubbling just beneath the surface, ready to explode outward -

- to fly - to fight - to crow.

he’s half tempted to though… just to hear the call of the boy king of neverland.  it must be quite the thing to behold.

❝ come now, i think it’s my turn to buy you a drink. ❞ 

[aslanredacted]

“You’ll always be safe with me.” (achilles)

he can see that there’s a will to do good.  that he so deeply desires to be the ‘hero’.  and that it’s… hard… sometimes to stay on the path.  but… after all… what is a true hero but someone who has to fight - not just others, but themselves - to be true to those virtues.  if it was - easy - then it wouldn’t be as precious, as valuable… wouldn’t make him as – worthy.

but there are a couple of things that can help…  

–when people take you at your word.  believe you without question ( and the lion would unless the other gave him explicit reason not to ).–when people not only believe, but trust - with something valuable… and if the other offered no harm with an expectation of naught in return, then that indeed was a precious gift.

❝ if you say as much, then i believe you. ❞

❝ thank you…  truly… thank you. ❞

[aslanredacted]

“Your heartbeat’s really loud.”

he’s not altogether sure whether she likes it when he smiles.

but the lion finds it far too difficult not to do so freely and often.  and he does again - bright and broad - but this time, it’s unlikely that she can see it… they’re pressed together… shoulder to shoulder - standing with their backs to the wall as guards march by - the heavy clump of boots on stone audible and echoing as they pass but feet away.

she could have him arrested. – tossed into some deep, dark dungeon with a sharp word or raised voice.  but she didn’t.  hadn’t even lifted one of those golden brows in surprise when she’d opened her door to the soft knocking of the narnian.  had - if anything - seemed mildly amused at his brazenness.

and he wonders, if she finds this as exhilarating as he does.  a rush to the blood, a little surge of adrenalin.  after all, he’s the one who snuck into the palace…  if she can go undercover as a commoner, then he figures he can return the favour and make the effort to come to her for their next conversation.  which did involve a little subterfuge and rather a lot of sneaking - made a little easier by having footfall as soft as a cat…

when was the last time she’d indulged in such simple fun?  – something childish and silly.  something free of responsibility and reason.  

perhaps if she can’t see the smile, she can hear it in the hushed words he offers in return – and while this may be the most inopportune moment to throw in a slice of humour… it doesn’t actually stop him.

❝ i have a very big… heart. ❞

[belladoesrpmeme]

𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 ♡

For the fluff and soft hearted, here is another lists of sentence starters that has the highest potentiality to turn into a soft scenarios. Feel free to change any pronouns / sentence structure according to your muse’s preference!     TRIGGER WARNING:   N/A.

“I never noticed your eyes were this [colour].”

“Your heartbeat’s really loud.”

“You asleep?”

“I like this, being so close to you.”

“Your hair keeps falling into your eyes, do you know that? Here, lemme just—”

“You’re so, so, so pretty.”

“I just — I’m breathless, okay? Whenever I’m with you, it happens.”

“You make my heart beat so quick.”

“You always know how to make me smile.”

“You’ll always be safe with me.”

[Kisses the other on the cheek]

“Always.”

“I can’t imagine being anywhere but here with you.”

“All my choices lead me to you.”

“I’ll never give you up.”

“I sleep better if you’re around.”

“You snore in your sleep. But… it’s adorable, okay?”

“I like this. A quiet breakfast with you.”

“There’re billions of people on this planet, and I love you. How incredible is that?”

“I trust you.”

[Holds the other’s hand when they think the other won’t notice]

“You keep staring at me instead of watching the film. What’s up?”

“Let’s push all of these stuff away. I wanna dance here right now with you.”

“Are we really doing this? Are we really slow-dancing?”

“When you laugh like that, it just — you’re so beautiful, you know that?”

“No, sorry, you laughed. I … I never saw it before. It’s — pretty.”

“You haven’t laughed in a long time, and I guess I was staring ‘cause I forgot how that looked like.”

[Puts head on the other’s shoulder]

“I will never let you go.”

“You’re the best thing to have ever happened to me.”

“You wrote me a song?”

“You’ve got a fever. Of course I’m not going anywhere.”

[Suddenly feels around the bed to search for the other’s hand / body when they’re sleeping]

[Extends a hand when they see the other was searching for it while they’re sleeping]

“I just feel calmer. When I’m with you.”

“You’re not in bed. I came looking for you.”

“What are you doing up? Come to bed.”

“It’s weird. I never thought I could feel like this, but you showed up. Now, it’s like I don’t wanna go on knowing I might lose the feeling.”

“I don’t mind sharing the blankets with you.”

“You’re cold. Come here.”

“You always do that. You always warm me up.”

“Stay.”

“It’s getting crowded. Here, hold my hand.”

[Hugs for a very long time]

[Puts feet on the other’s lap]

“I’m so proud of you, you know that?”

“I love you.”

[aslanredacted]

serabrus‌:

“You make it sound as if they have variety.” He made a face. 

Kindness was something meant for a few. If he was merciful to every dead person who tried to cheat death, there wouldn’t be anyone in the underworld. 

“Virtue.” He repeated the word feeling so foreign. “So if you have this virtue you don’t go to the bad place.” He shook his head. “How do you keep this virtue? That seems so difficult?” Cerby sat down with a scowl on his face. “Do I have virtue? To go to Aslan’s country” 

 The smile confused him even further. It was hard to understand these gestures without Hades. 

“I don’t need to be imaginative anyway.” Cerby sid with a pout. His immaturity shown was showing through. Cerby sighe with a shrug. “Couldn’t I steal the clothes from the two legs? They wear too many anyway?” 

❝ they do...  perhaps you’ve only been exposed thus far to a certain... type. ❞

when he speaks of virtue being difficult, the lion simply nods.  quite often the virtuous path was not the easy one...

❝ it can be difficult.  but not impossible...  it is - always - a choice. ❞

❝ not a clue -- i’m not the one who makes that decision. plus i’ve known you for all of.... about... 5 minutes. i very much doubt whether i would be a good judge of the sum of actions of your life when i don’t even know your name. ❞

truly, he isn’t - while it may be called aslan’s country - it’s truly a place beyond his current sphere of influence.  a misnomer maybe... that was just what the people of his kingdom called it - aslan aware that it may have other names in other tongues.

❝ you could - but, theft is a sin - not a virtue.  i would imagine that if you would like to uphold virtue, and circumstance desperately called for it - you could possibly ‘borrow’ something, with the intention to return it and perhaps make amends.  ❞

he shrugs again - 

❝ that’s a shame... imagination can be a truly wondrous thing.  ❞

[aslanredacted]

hera-shecomes‌:

I would wish to stand with. 

The corner of Hera’s mouth jumped, though she did not know which way it sought to sway. Amusement, with a slight hint of admiration for the man before her or down in disapproval? The goddess found herself, for the first time in centuries, unsure of what to make of the person before her. She did not delude herself into thinking she was an excellent judge of character, for time and time again it would see that she, like many, had been wrong. Enough so that she always remained cautious. But instinct was a powerful thing - and it would seem that that knowing pull seemed to have gone silent. 

It did not help that he hardly gave anything away. Then again, there was little sport to be hand with an easy partner. She was often used to those who let her win or were too eager to best her that they tried too hard. Painfully so. She studied the golden lion once more over the rim of her cheap little goblet, wondering how many lives he had lived. Did he play a new role each time, a different man with the same beating heart? Or was the one before her just another life, another role that would case and another begin after a certain lapse of time? 

A glimmer of a smile, enough to reveal the barest hint of while teeth beneath oddly rich, full lips. It drew her attention, just for a brief moment. Whatever cause he had found worthy was, it was one that still held true to his heart. There was no offer of further information and she did not push. 

“As did I,” A confession for a confession - a strange and unspoken law of drinking partners, even if just for the moment. It would see that everyone, at some point, believed in something, would have fought for it. 

She saw the faintest glimmer of curiosity, as if he would have liked to have known more, but not enough to ask. Hera had lent her favour to many sides of many wars, but had only truly fought one - and since then, she had been fighting in a different kind of way since. 

I don’t think I am the only one. 

Hera wondered if it was the goddess in her that had noticed him. That… otherness that existed within her, the very thing that made her what she was. She had never been mortal, had never known what it was like to fear the slow ebb of time, the passing of days, the countdown of life itself. She was born immortal and with the knowledge that she simply existed. Perhaps it was like calling to like, Hera did not know. Perhaps it was something far less complex - merely seeing a familiar figure in a crowd or even finding a companion that was considerably more appealing than the mortals who drank around them. 

“You do not live this long without being observant,” She conceded. “You do have a… unique way about you.” 

Benevolence, charity, magnanimous, chivalrous… Hera felt the corners of her lips had finally decided on which way they wished to turn. Frowning slightly, she tiled her head to observe him, brows pulling together. “The way you speak of power would make me think that you have never wielded it. Or, A brow arched. “If you have, it has not been for long.” She drained the last of her drink, long manicured nails slowly tapping an uneven beat against the hallow of the goblet. “I can assure you that prolonged exposure to anything - power, rule, love - will fester at any good intentions that were once there. Greatness is fleeting and usually the theme of ballads, of heroes long forgotten because the dead a glorified and the long living are not.” 

Hera stared down at her empty goblet in thought, almost as if she would will it to refill of its own accord when he spoke again. This time, his voice was thick with what could only be decided as the past. That ache of what could not be changed. She knew only for she had heard it in her own voice before - but to hear it on the tongue of another made her sink prickle with awareness. 

“You speak as if you wish to broker peace,” She commented, leaning back in her seat, one leg crossing over the other as she regarded her companion from beneath her hood. “Are you seeking a position as some kingdom’s emissary?” 

“I fight my own causes.” Hera had known that asking him once more had perhaps toed the line, she was surprised that he was not so quick to relent to her. Very few dared to deny her now. “No,” Hera shook her head. “But I am… curious. For a man who clearly despises the very notion of war, but has clearly fought,” Her gaze gave the briefest flicker to his weathered hands and away. “What would make you swap - whatever tool it is you use on a daily basis - for a sword?” She arched a brow, smirking. “What tool is it that you use anyway?”

As did I.

...did.  don’t think he doesn’t notice the past tense.  believed in... not believes in.  whatever had swayed the queens conviction had - perhaps - since... ebbed...  

...so - to wonder.  if something - or someone - had held the faith of one such as her so rapt and devoted and let it... slip... away... he can barely imagine.  what kind of betrayal could turn ‘do’ to ‘did’... who... or what... would ever dare?  and while she decides which glimmer to grace him with next - perhaps is the one thing that could turn his mind... send him careening from the certain path of his own thoughts and words - derails the train as it thunders onward, churning up dirt and spitting out steam in anger...

...because, he finds... it does... anger him.

( ...falter. ) just a slight tightening of fingers around his cup of mead. a furrow of brow deepening. but that red veil passes jus as quickly as it arrives.  it’s not his - right - to place his emotions onto her experience.

The way you speak of power would make me think that you have never wielded it. Or, If you have, it has not been for long.

and perhaps he should not... ...but there’s nothing that can stop the laugh... a rumble that begins from deep within his chest, blossoming into something infinitely louder than it reasonably should be from human lips. it is not - entirely - a ‘human’ sound.  and he’s not laughing at her - nor at her presumption.  after all, who could understand the kind of ‘power’ the high king held?  the choices he made?  those sacrifices?  he wonders if she’s ever heard the tales of his home land - of that far away kingdom of narnia?  where the kings and queens therein had all been chosen for their inherent, implicit virtue?  that he has reigned there - for... millennia or more... and still does... that he chooses to be - here - in a common guise - is another matter entirely.  

would she doubt his words if she knew?  would the title of ‘high king’ give them more weight?  it shouldn’t... honesty -- truth -- should be taken from the lips of any - be they commoner or king.

❝ and i can assure you that such good intentions can and do prevail.  especially -- love.  and i say this not as some notion of hopeful whimsy... but because i know it to be true... ❞

there’s not a flicker of doubt.  more conviction in those words than in any he has spoken so far.  

does she deny that it could be so because she had no notion of it? that nothing pure or good or sacred or virtuous could bear longevity because - even if she had known them, they had become absent from her existence?  easier then perhaps, to deny them, rather than grieve over what had been... lost...

( ...was anything ever truly lost?  was there still hope that she might believe in such things?  what scars of time had carved it’s way across her heart, had corrupted her mind that virtue seemed like such a fruitless endeavour?  )

❝ greatness is not - easy.  but it is not always fleeting.  and it matters not the length of a life - but how it is lived.  a span of mere years lived well is worth more than a thousand lived poorly.  and if you can uphold such virtue for more than a moment of time, then perhaps you are truly worthy of greatness... ❞

the talk of war turns to talk of peace. and like any ‘creature’ tends to do - he lives in the moment.  there are no more maudlin thoughts ( they’re present, but not apparent ) at the forefront of his mind.  peace is a far more worthy subject to devote his time.  and even as she utters the word, he seems to brighten.  the air in the tavern not so oppressive.  even in the gloom, and the dark of night, there is the feeling of sunlight and warmth...

❝ i do wish to broker peace... if it may save lives... then yes... but not at any cost... and... no... i have no desire to become an emissary, a voice for those who will not, or dare not speak for themselves.  there is a kingdom that i hold to my heart - it is... far away - but that does not stop me caring about the fate of others. ❞

I fight my own causes

❝ of that, m’lady - i have no doubt. ❞

perhaps now there is something of a wry turn to his words... still sincere, but he does wonder... does she fight for others?  or simply for herself?  his mind holds onto those words... he has not forgotten...

As did I.

...

❝ not - a sword. ❞

he confirms.    it’s not as though he hasn’t picked up a sword.  it’s just not his ‘go-to’.  rather easier to fight with the weapons of his true form... and so often his foes are not expecting a lion amidst their battle... 

❝ stablehand. ❞

he offers by way of clarity... motioning briefly to himself.  though most stablehands would not sup with a shrouded queen and lay out words such as his.  most would tremble in the presence of the mighty, a crowned goddess bringing them swiftly to their knees.  he neither trembles... nor bows.  he sits as her equal at this table.  neither royal nor common.  simply present.  

there’s a shrug - a shift of shoulders beneath that raw, cheap shirt... and something of a grin appears... 

❝ not a lot of swords in stables. ❞

❝ as for what might make me fight?  evil.  injustice.  harm to the innocent.  it’s a pretty long list - i won’t bore you with the nuances...  not so very long ago i had my taste of daemon blood at the fair. ❞

...and in that, he’s probably being a slight more literal than most.

[aslanredacted]

expuracordis‌:

—- * 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 .

           ❝   𝐲𝐨𝐮  𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭  𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 ?   ❞  the  vampire  held  the  glass  out  to  the  other  ,  wiggling  it  enticingly  before  them .  the  glass  was  half  full  of  wine  ,  laced  with  a  bit  of  her  own  blood .  a  treat  for  most  ;  disgusting  for  some  .   ❝   seems  like  it  takes  a  lot  to  get  a  party  started  these  days  .  ❞  with  all  the  tension  of  war  &  danger  ,  fun  seemed  to  be  the  last  thing  on  everyones  mind .  this  ,  of  course  ,  bothered  katya  immensely .  her  boredom  was  reaching  its  threshold  ,  which  is  exactly  when  she  begins  to  slowly  unravel  .   ❝  guess  we’ll  have  to  make  our  own  fun . ❞

he can - smell - the blood. taking a few steps forward and letting his senses soak in the scents lifting from the delicate goblet she offered. that taint of iron, the living and the dead, the dizzying half life between.  not living, not dead.  hovering there between two worlds, holding true death at bay with the sup of others lifeblood.

it’s not as though the lion is unfamiliar with the scorch of iron across his tongue.  not as though he hasn’t felt life falter within his maw, a beating heart stutter and stumble, finally realising that it stood no hope - beneath ferocious fangs that would cause even the vampire to draw a breath she had no need of.  

he wonders if she would be impressed or horrified...

eyes lift from the proffered glass, a hazy glint in the gloom and he smiles.   it’s hard to tell if it’s something polite, or more... feral...

❝ no, thank you.  ❞ 

❝ what did you have in mind? ❞ 

[aslanredacted]

[aslanredacted]

who do you most admire?

​❝ there is not – one… individual… ❞

in truth he admires many things about many people.  each one unique or special in their own way…  there’s not one thing that holds another ‘above’ all else in his eyes… not one thing that stands them aside as separate.  

…at least… not yet.

​❝ perhaps i am still waiting for a glimmer of ‘great’ among the good.  a flicker of something… more… a fools errand perhaps, but one i gladly follow… the most precious surprises are often the most unexpected. ❞

[aslanredacted]

I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.

Sarah Williams

[aslanredacted]

hera-shecomes‌:

“Those who fight decide a cause’s worth.” Hera frowned down into her goblet, seeing her own pensive gaze stare back up at her from the depths of the crimson liquid. “Could you send a man or woman to their dead, knowing they did not believe in what they were fighting for?” She glanced away from her watery reflection, turning back to her companion with a slight frown. “Have you never believed in something worth fighting for?”

She had. Hera tried to quell the rise of memories that came to her, unbidden. The wild and reckless smile, the promise of a better life. The passion and the drive from the god that would later rule with her as his queen. She had believed then, believed that she would walk across every battlefield, stripped of her armour, if it meant that his vision, his dream, of a better rule would become a reality. 

Hera allowed herself a moment to fully study him, openly and without intention to look away. His hands, holding the worn and slightly beaten tankard were large and callous, working hands. Perhaps it was the lighting, but she thought she spied the faint silver lines of scars veining his hands, a strange and stark contrast to the richness of his skin, a golden hue that was more human than her own. 

A sharp jaw lined with stubble, a strong nose. But the lines that faintly ran across his features were what held her attention. The furrow of a brow, the telltale sign of lips that were quick to frown but just as quick to smile. The smaller, more delicate creases around his eyes, perhaps crinkling from laughter, perhaps the strain of grief. It was interesting to observe - his face. It told a story that Hera did not know the premise to. She had yet to decide if such a tale could continue to hold her curiosity. 

“But you noticed,” It wasn’t a question as she tilted her head slightly. She placed her wine down on the frayed table between them, her hand steady. “What gave me away?” Not that it truly mattered - Hera, perhaps due to her immortal arrogance, feared very little. It mattered not if she was noticed, for what could a restless crowd of humans do to a goddess? Her thoughts strayed, just for a moment, to Persephone and how her sister-in-law had nearly lost the battle with a daemon. No, Hera thought. She wasn’t worried about mortals. 

If I may… Hera’s slight frown deepened at his words, though she did not know why. It was the appropriate way to address a queen, if one dared to address her at all. She demanded such respect, such reverence, even from those who were not of her kingdom. But perhaps, even here, in such a dark and dull little tavern far away from the palace, she would always be expected to be a queen. “Perhaps royalty is not something of blood, but is something within all the same.” Though she did not descend from a great and honourable line of monarchs, Hera had always known that there had been something inside of her which made her destined to rule. Her marriage to a king only ensured it. “And what, pray tell, is your definition of great?”

She noticed the faint, brief smile on his lips, drawing her attention towards them. She allowed her mind to dwell on his demeanor, the strange stillness of his body that made her think of restlessness contained. Hera took in the strong arms, corded with muscle, the large chest beneath worn cloth. Even now, when hidden away, looking for all the world as if he did not wish to draw attention to himself, Hera wondered just how many gazes he drew. While it had been the low glint of his mane of hair that had caught her eye at the bar, she could not help but wonder if it had been the silent yet strong power that had truly made her notice him from the rest. 

His next words made something akin to a smile glimmer across her lips as she noted his tone. It was a heady, grim topic to discuss but the golden queen found her grey eyes lighting at the challenge. There were no ‘if I mays’ when he spoke now of war, making Hera wonder if she might have found the warrior beneath the mild man. 

“I disagree,” She brought the rim of the goblet to her lips once more, this time relishing the taste of something she had not believed she would find in such a small and unsuspecting tavern - a challenge. “War is brutal. It is savage. But the strategy, the drive, the sound of the first battle cry…” She closed her eyes, recalling the last time she had heard such a sound, and though terrible… “It is art. Terrible, destructive art.” Perhaps it made her inhumane to think of it in such a way, for she knew the cost of war. Knew for his had been willing to pay the price herself with little to no intention of winning. 

She sipped on her wine as he denied sitting idle whilst others fought, once again taking in his form, wondering what he would look like in the heart of war, a sword swinging in his hand, his own roar of battle leaving his lips. “I have offended you,” She commented with the barest hint of delight. “By questioning your readiness to fight?” Amusement shone in her eyes. “Have you not found a cause worth fighting for?”

❝ i would not send anyone - if they wanted to stand up for something they truly believed in and take up arms for that cause, then i would welcome them... but an army made of those who see no virtue or value in the fight... is not an army i would wish to stand with. ❞

perhaps he’s clever too. he doesn’t say ‘an army i would wish to lead’. nor ‘an army i would wish to command’.   though in truth both of those duties had fallen to him as the high king many times before.  and he had done both.  but never, ever, had he forced a soul with the freedom of will to stand and fight when they chose not to.

Have you never believed in something worth fighting for?

at that, there’s a flicker of a smile.  another fleeting glimmer of gold.  another of those very plain, very direct answers... ( and why shouldn’t he answer in kind?  the question had been clear enough ).  

❝ yes. ❞

he wonders if she can say the same?  and if so, what was that thing?  was it a value?  a gain?  a person?  a promise?  but he doesn’t pry any further.  if she wished to tell him such things, then he’s sure those words would come about.  if not, then no kind of question would likely ease the answer from her lips.

But you noticed

again, the simple response...

❝ yes. ❞

...but this time he will not leave her wanting.  what gave her away?   likely nothing that would particularly draw attention of the everyman.  nothing that would strike the senses of those who knew nothing of gods and monsters, of kings and queens...  but he does. perhaps such things weren’t truly possibly to translate into the tongues of man...

...she’s the kiss of a butterfly wing before the chaos of a storm.  gentle and delicate, a breeze of such softness that you may be forgiven for thinking that it was simply imagined - but the tumult and strength to follow would shake you to your very core.

...she’s the smell of time.  of seasons changing.  the winter that bites at your fingertips, the summer which warms your face, the brisk sweetness of spring, the changing tides of autumn... so many over so long that she might see them passing as mortals would see a day turn to night.  

...she’s the weight of power.  of reputation and responsibility.  and she doesn’t carry that burden upon her shoulders - but in the air around her, ephemeral, ethereal, diaphanous, insubstantial but... there.  heady, potent... intoxicating.

❝ many things, and very little at all.  i think, perhaps i have a... certain capacity for observation...  but i don’t think i’m the only one. ❞

she had, after all... chosen this seat.

And what, pray tell, is your definition of great?

❝ for a king... or a queen... it’s what they do with that position that defines them.  power with benevolence, charity, magnanimous, chivalrous, an open hand, an open heart... i have seen those who squabble, squander, and are... apathetic.  who succumb to ennui... or are consumed only with the material wealth and forced reverence such position offers.  often those that call themselves - great - aren’t. ❞

I have offended you.  By questioning your readiness to fight?

offence is something for the prideful.  for those who rose easily to annoyance, anger, resentment.  the lion is -- too old... has lived too long to find such things hurtful.  to feel them as barbs or spears.  he has felt true hatred, true evil, when his mane was cut, a muzzle was placed about his face, kicked, jeered, taunted and beaten -- when such evil had rejoiced in it’s victory and danced about in torchlight and blood, when it plunged a knife into his chest and cut out his heart -- literally -- and even then... he did not spit ire.  

--and while he is - wild.  --and while he can be - wrathful.  --it is not her words, nor her questions which caused the serious note to his tone.  in fact, it’s nothing to do with her at all...  it’s his memories, his experience, his history... the lives he has seen lost.  the friends which fell beneath blades or arrows.  the grief in those left behind which carves at his heart... always, always, the thought of others -- first. even in this sombre moment of recollection.  

❝ no. ❞

❝ you do not offend... war itself does.  but i’m not so misguided by the notion of peace to think that sometimes it’s not an unfortunate inevitability.  nor so desirous of harmony that i would not, and have not, embraced such brutality when necessary. ❞

she asks him again if he has a cause... he’s already told her that there are things he believes are worth fighting for... so why ask again?  perhaps she desires more than a simple yes... and he imagines that there are very few men who would hesitate to give her exactly what she wanted... but... he’s not a man.  at least... not primarily.

❝ why?  is there one you would like to propose? ❞

[aslanredacted]

[aslanredacted]

serabrus‌:

“I never meant any good creatures where I’m from.” He admitted. “But if I meet one I will be merciful.” He relented. 

The Underworld wasn’t the host of the nicest people especially the ones the hound dealt with. 

“What’s a noble reason?” Cerebrus kept questioning. It was hard for him to understand how others could be kind-beyond the gods. 

Cerebrus pouted. 

“Where do you go if you’re noble?” He asked. There was a place for the good people, why hasn’t he seen it  

The hound sniffed the coat before slipping it on. 

“Can you teach me how to improvise?” He pouted. “I always wind up not wearing clothes.” 

❝ well, there are a lot here -- good, bad, a little bit of both... ❞

there is a quirk of brow -- it’s an odd comment from the shifter... ‘merciful’... he doesn’t quite understand why the other may find a need to show... mercy, simply through meeting someone... 

❝ ...it’s not always easy to tell.  there are ‘good deeds’ done with ultimately bad intent... things like manipulation, lies, deceit... you’ll have to be careful. ❞

a few steps and the lion leans against the tree the other had been lounging in, shoulder feeling the rough scratch of bark through flimsy shirt, but making himself comfortable none the less... the questions were - poignant - but not all quite so straightforward to answer...

❝ have you ever heard of virtue?  it’s pretty much the opposite of sin... uphold those values, instead of giving into the temptation of the other, and you’ll have some idea of what it means to be noble.  then, perhaps, you may find that, upon death, you go to that place of light and warmth and joy and comfort... rather than being condemned to an eternity of pain...  where i come from, they refer to is as ‘aslans country’. ❞

now he is a little amused... but the smile which graces his face isn’t at the others expense, he’s just finding a little humour in the slight irony of the words...

❝ that, i’m afraid, i cannot do... improvisation is something you can’t ‘teach’ - it’s what you have to do on the spur of the moment, with whatever may be at hand.  and there’s no lesson that would cover every eventuality that could possibly present itself.   -- improvise... be creative, imaginative. ❞

[plusfortquemoi]

Charlie Hunnam in Pacific Rim (2013)

[aslanredacted]

“Don’t go where I can’t follow.” [ from Morgana ]

he smiles at the gentle words.  something that reminds him of the ‘her’ he once knew.  the one which peeks out from behind that cold, hardened wall like the young princess when she’d sneak down to the stables instead of taking lessons.  he still sees her like that – no matter what the years may have done - they can change a persons behaviour - perhaps… but they can never change who they inherently – are.

she cannot follow her king.  

too much bad blood and bitterness ( not the fault of young arthur, but rather something conjured by ceremony and circumstance ).

she cannot follow her dreams.

she doesn’t believe in them any longer, broken shards of things that cut her heart, too painful to remember, too fragile to hold on to.

she cannot follow her heart.

because she no longer believes it to be true.  a tumult of chaos pressed down so that she can stand strong, no matter the hurt that lay within.  curling around the organ like barbed wire, digging and shearing until she could bear it no longer. 

…but she can follow him.

❝ for as long as i am here, for as long as it is within my power… i will not leave you behind. ❞