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paixaorpg2006-05-07 01:14 am
kingsofthepast.livejournal.com) wrote in paixaorpg2006-05-07 01:14 am
Mufasa: Resurrected. [COMPLETED]
Character(s): Mufasa
Content: Mufasa awakens not too far from the Vanaheim gate.
Setting: Just outside Vanaheim.
Time: Late Sunday night, leading into very early Monday morning.
Warnings: None! Except, I guess, a naked anthro. But I won't get into that.
When Mufasa finally awoke, lying face-up in the dark grass, it was to a sea of stars.
It had been long since he had seen the stars from this perspective. Over the years, he had grown accustomed to gazing downward from the heavens amongst his brethren -- and yet now, they had turned their watchful eyes back upon him as he lay once more on the earth. How he arrived here, he did not know, but he was sure that the great swelling of emotion in his chest was one of purpose.
They had wanted him to wake up at night. So he would see the great kings staring down at him. So he would not be afraid.
No longer used to the feelings of weight and gravity, he slid his paw underneath him as a brace while he sat up. The other he brought in front of his face to examine, and what he saw before his eyes transcended shock.
It wasn't a paw anymore. Instead, it was a broad palm with five long, spindly appendages, something he had never seen before, in life nor death. As his vision came into focus, he realized the rest of his form had changed as well. His torso and legs had completely transformed, and the only semblance of feline that remained were a short, dense coat of golden fur, and dark brown claws which tipped the digits on all his limbs. He could only assume that his face and jaws had changed as well, and when he ran a hand across his countenance, felt features utterly alien.
Perhaps the most disturbing factor of all, however, was this element of... transparence. Upon looking through his stomach, he found he could see the grass laying underneath it. Part of him was still not totally whole, totally mortal. He was still being brought back from the spirit world.
What is this? Where am I? What have I become?
But most importantly:
Where is Simba?
It was an unsteady effort from ground to feet, but as he rose, he saw in the corner of his eye a glistening gate, illuminated with lights in the inky dark. It led into a civilization, the horizon of which was covered with what looked to be a glass dome. Clearly the only way into this place -- and into solving the mystery of how he got here, and what he was supposed to do -- was through that gate. Uncomfortable as he was in this new body, in this new land, he knew he must press onward.
He would head there now, and in the morning, he would search for his son.
Content: Mufasa awakens not too far from the Vanaheim gate.
Setting: Just outside Vanaheim.
Time: Late Sunday night, leading into very early Monday morning.
Warnings: None! Except, I guess, a naked anthro. But I won't get into that.
When Mufasa finally awoke, lying face-up in the dark grass, it was to a sea of stars.
It had been long since he had seen the stars from this perspective. Over the years, he had grown accustomed to gazing downward from the heavens amongst his brethren -- and yet now, they had turned their watchful eyes back upon him as he lay once more on the earth. How he arrived here, he did not know, but he was sure that the great swelling of emotion in his chest was one of purpose.
They had wanted him to wake up at night. So he would see the great kings staring down at him. So he would not be afraid.
No longer used to the feelings of weight and gravity, he slid his paw underneath him as a brace while he sat up. The other he brought in front of his face to examine, and what he saw before his eyes transcended shock.
It wasn't a paw anymore. Instead, it was a broad palm with five long, spindly appendages, something he had never seen before, in life nor death. As his vision came into focus, he realized the rest of his form had changed as well. His torso and legs had completely transformed, and the only semblance of feline that remained were a short, dense coat of golden fur, and dark brown claws which tipped the digits on all his limbs. He could only assume that his face and jaws had changed as well, and when he ran a hand across his countenance, felt features utterly alien.
Perhaps the most disturbing factor of all, however, was this element of... transparence. Upon looking through his stomach, he found he could see the grass laying underneath it. Part of him was still not totally whole, totally mortal. He was still being brought back from the spirit world.
What is this? Where am I? What have I become?
But most importantly:
Where is Simba?
It was an unsteady effort from ground to feet, but as he rose, he saw in the corner of his eye a glistening gate, illuminated with lights in the inky dark. It led into a civilization, the horizon of which was covered with what looked to be a glass dome. Clearly the only way into this place -- and into solving the mystery of how he got here, and what he was supposed to do -- was through that gate. Uncomfortable as he was in this new body, in this new land, he knew he must press onward.
He would head there now, and in the morning, he would search for his son.