oh, the golden age
Nov. 13th, 2008 03:21 pmMy
narniaexchange fic makes me ridiculously happy, even though it totally shouldn't.
Seriously, I forgot how friggin' awesome the Golden Age is. And all my myriad Golden Age OCs. OSUMARE SEAWORTH. BABY.
...you know, I wonder what the chances are I could bring back the dead in Dust? Because seriously, I don't know who I want to have back more, Caspian or Seaworth.
Hell, the Narnian forces are so outnumbered by the time Dust rolls around that the help of the dead would be sorely appreciated.
...Caspian meeting Seaworth. *considers* I think he'd realize where a lot of Peter's quirks came from. (Well, not a lot, but a few. A number of others Peter picked up from Mathin Terblanche, captain of the Red Company, and Ossian, one of Peter's friends from the Red Company.)
Seriously, kids, the goddamn Golden Age. It has to be pretty awesome to be remembered the way it is a thousand years later.
It kind of makes me want to go back to Old Timber, because Old Timber has lines like this
Seriously, I forgot how friggin' awesome the Golden Age is. And all my myriad Golden Age OCs. OSUMARE SEAWORTH. BABY.
...you know, I wonder what the chances are I could bring back the dead in Dust? Because seriously, I don't know who I want to have back more, Caspian or Seaworth.
Hell, the Narnian forces are so outnumbered by the time Dust rolls around that the help of the dead would be sorely appreciated.
...Caspian meeting Seaworth. *considers* I think he'd realize where a lot of Peter's quirks came from. (Well, not a lot, but a few. A number of others Peter picked up from Mathin Terblanche, captain of the Red Company, and Ossian, one of Peter's friends from the Red Company.)
Seriously, kids, the goddamn Golden Age. It has to be pretty awesome to be remembered the way it is a thousand years later.
It kind of makes me want to go back to Old Timber, because Old Timber has lines like this
A long time ago, when his mother had still been alive, Caspian had used to watch her spread her jewels out on a roll of thick green velvet for him to play with. He hasn’t thought of it in years, but his first impression, when he steps out into the sunlight, is of those jewels and green velvet. He blinks hard, trying to clear his vision, and gradually the landscape resolves itself into a wide, flat plain covered in rows of tents, all brilliantly colored. The High King’s campaign tent is on a little rise just high enough to afford a slight view, and Caspian turns his head to see the camp spread out around him in a circle with the High King’s tent dead-center. Amidst the camp, life bustles – dwarves working at smithies, a group of centaurs jousting in a practice field at the far edge of the ring, fauns and satyrs hurrying to and fro, dogs and great cats lounging in the sunlight. There are more Narnians here than he has ever seen at one time before, at least twice as many as gathered at Aslan’s How. There may be more Old Narnians here than there are in all of Telmarine Narnia.