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THE MOTHERFUCKING TEST DRIVE MEME RIDES AGAIN.

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[ Aslan best of all bears knowledge of how vast a world may be. Worlds, interlaced, parallel and weaved. But this was a place too strange - foreign and even disorienting.

The massive lion pads through the hall, steps slow and deliberate and gaze heavy and thoughtful; not the gaze of a mindless beast, but measured. Level yet tense because from the glances he's already caught, his presence has unsettled.

Perhaps he was much more a beast in some eyes; after all, this was not Narnia. ]

[He turns the corner cheerfully, but when he sees the lion, he goes very still. Nothing changes but his expression, as he evaluates the lion.

It's larger than him. Much larger.

He wonders what Jaime would make of it.]

[ If a lion's expression can ever be described as bemused, this is certainly it, as ears tip forwards. He stops too, as he stares back at the smaller man. One who bares some subtle familiarity to a dwarf he's known. But this was not Trumpkin; the Lion always recognizes his allies.

After a moment, he's snorting - sighing - to break the silence; he could have simply gone around the other, but that would be rude. ] Greetings, then.

[He is quite amused by this, acutally

Little brother, whatever will you do now.]

[ frodo baggins knows of great beasts. has heard tales of the great eagles and the lord of all birds who leads them. he does not know yet that they will carry him from his final obstacle, for that is not yet part of the tale.

for now he hears snippets of stories from here and there, tells a few stories of his own. he's of a mind to head to the gardens when a large shadow passes over him. befuddled, he begins to speak as he raises his gaze ]

Pardon me --

[ and stops abruptly at the sight. he has seen death, felt death in the form of a morgul blade but not this. heart stuttering in his throat, he finds himself unable to move, fingers twitching at his side. if ever there were a time to use that it would be now. ]

[ the Lion stops before the boy can turn into him, though the tall shadow is still cast over the other. He is lowering his great head with a ruffle of his mane.

His eyes soften - an odd thing, for a beast's eyes to do - as he can easy sense the rising tension. The tension that tells him that this one is not from Narnia. ]

Be at ease, little one. [ Though the rumble of his tone commands, he does his best to soothe as well. There is the subtlest scrutiny - what world do you come from? - though perhaps it will go unnoticed. ]

[ there's a mind moving behind that lion's eyes. a talking beast -- perhaps someone who even knew gandalf. who can say? swallowing hard the hobbit tries to find any measure of voice but words fail him. for the lion is terrible but he is also lovely -- something about him, the sort of terrible that gandalf is when truly angered, but something deeper and wiser.

why does he think of gandalf now?

frodo dips his curly head in a short little bow; raising tired eyes to the lion's face. he has seen many terrible things, at this point he feels that if it were truly terrible he would not have even given him words before eating him. ]

You..-- who are you?

[ In turn, the Lion studies the boy - not human, no, but neither of a king he has yet seen. The boy carries some unspoken burden to his shoulders, and the tired gaze seems to say as much. Just as he bears good; just as there is courage and strength. And that is especially why he had little to fear from him. The Lion simply sees, as that is his way.

Aslan dips his head - a greeting in turn. His lithe muscles relax entirely, in hopes of easing whatever initial tension this one bared in turn. He does not move forwards or back either, the distance kept. His tale moves idly back and forth. ]

I am Aslan, of Narnia. [ That tells little, perhaps, but it is an introduction. His head tilts. ] And who are you, little one?

[ there is no one, in all the world he thinks, that could ever be quite like aslan. and for that same reason, it is impossible to mistake him for anyone else. edmund sees him, at the far end of the hall, and for one dizzying moment he wonders if this is what it's like for lucy. when he thinks he must be seeing things, that he's almost afraid to believe, but then- then he couldn't just not. not when that warmth fills up his chest.

his heart.

edmund may not bear his armor here, or his sword and shield, but he answers the call all the same. ]

-Aslan?

[ aslan had no destination to head on this ship - a vessel that was a world outside all worlds, it seemed, yet able to weave through time and place. as fascinating as it was, naturally, unnerving. especially when his own ways seemed to no longer be enough to return him back.

with the flick of his tail, he pads on until he hears steps behind him - he slows, turns his massive lithe frame when he hears the voice.

of course, whatever tension aslan may feel towards the complexities of this place, his purred and level tone hints nothing to that. he's smiling actually; if you squint. ] Edmund Pevensie.

[ he's moving forwards now, towards the boy. ] I see you've been taken here as well.

[Oh, he has never seen a beast like it. He heard tell, rumors in his youth of great maned cats dwelling in the lands of the Southrons, though he had had little contact with Men back then and their stories had only been carried by scouts returning from the lands of the Golodhrim. But he had not heard they were this gigantic or magnificent. The great cats of his own land don't compare at all.

But its gaze makes him think of the great eagles, of creatures sentient and intelligent who remain untouched by the cares of those on two legs. It is wild, perhaps, but in the same sense as those great lords of the wind. This is perhaps one of the lords of the land, as he can see in the depths of its eyes.

And so when the lion approaches, the Elvenking bows to him.]

[ Aslan possesses an omnipotence that may seem a times a great burden; though not to him - that is simply how it is; he knows nothing different. His way is an old way; he sees and knows. He sees the good, the well-intentioned and the irredeemable.

Though with all his knowledge, he still had to adjust to this ship. He could almost feel the ring of different worlds intertwined together in this one plane. How small this metal object was, to house so many worlds all at once.

He stops his steady pace when he sees the Elvenking; he does not know him, not as he would know one of Narnia, but as with many things, he sees. He sees age and wisdom and magic. Maybe he even sees a head that would wear a crown and a world other than the one he's closely known.

And yet, the other bows to him. An honorable recognition, and Aslan lowers his great head in turn, before lifting his gaze back to the otehr. There's a smile to his rumbling voice. ] Let us both rise, noble one.

[Ianto turns the corner -- minding his own business, thank you very much -- and it's just his luck, really, that he'd come face to mane with a huge lion. Naturally, Ianto freezes and very carefully does not turn around and head quickly in the other direction. Lions chase you if you run, right? Or is that wolves? Either way, Ianto's hand twitches in want of his gun, which he only hesitates to pull because things are never what they seem here. Or anywhere, in his experience.]

Right. Please tell me you're either a sentient lion or someone's pet, and not a wild lion the damn ship decided to drag here for shits and giggles.

[ Most lions would chase you, wouldn't they? Aslan, however, wasn't most lions. He watches the man with care; his loud sigh is calm. ]

Sentient would seem appropriate. [ Not only that, but does he sound mildly amused? He continues: ]

I am to understand, then, that the whims of this ship are unpredictable. [ If they were unpredictable even to him, that was saying something. ]

[ When one encounters a lion, the normal reaction would be to tense out of pure fear, and use every ounce of adrenaline they had to dart as quickly as they could in the opposite direction. Peter's first reaction generally follows that. He freezes at the other end of the hall, unsure of what to do. His sword is strapped to his hip, but even that seems like a foolhardy action to even think of.

Instead, he ducks around the corner, wondering if this would be like one of the few moments against the wolves and he could hide his way out. ]

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