Ryden Oneshots

Ryan Walks Into A Wardrobe

Summary: Ryan was just trying to find his old suit. He certainly wasn't expecting to end up in a snow-covered forest, being propositioned by a goat-like fairytale creature. (Narnia AU)

Ryan looked around at the white landscape, bemused. He wasn't sure how he'd managed to end up where he was—or for that matter, where that where actually was. It looked a bit like Jon's place.

OK, it didn't actually look anything like Jon's place. But it was covered in snow, and as a Las Vegas boy born and bred with very little experience of travelling, the only place Ryan had previously seen covered in snow was Jon's house in Chicago.

On the other hand, Jon's neighbourhood contained houses. This place only had acres and acres of uninhabited wood. And—a lamp-post.

There was a noise behind him, and he turned quickly.

His first thought was That's not even possible. Then,

“Why are you screaming?”

The person—creature—being in front of him waved a hand apologetically. “Sorry,” it said. “Sorry, but dude, you scared the shit out of me! We don't get visitors here since... yeah, probably not ever. Sorry. Wait.” The creature breathed in and out deeply a couple of times, then started to rifle through its shoulder bag frantically. “Had it here a moment ago,” it muttered distractedly.

While it swore over sixteen fucking pockets, why did I think that was a good idea?, Ryan took the opportunity to give it a closer look. It looked human enough from the waist up—quite good-looking, even, if rather hairier than anyone Ryan had ever met before. (The horns were a bit of an oddity, too.) From the waist down, however...

“So,” Ryan said in a carefully neutral voice, “goats, huh? Rural, your family?”

“Just a second,” the creature said; it was now apparently trying to fit its entire arm in one of the bag's pockets. Its face lit up in triumph as it finally managed to locate what it had been searching for, and it pulled its hand back out clutching a scrap of paper. “Finally, you fucker! Ahem.” It glanced at Ryan, embarrassed, then peered closely at the note, moving its lips and frowning.

“Greetings, stranger to this land,” it read out loud, rather haltingly. “I am Brendon, a faun of Narnia. Are you a son of Adam or possibly a daughter of Eve?”

“What?” Ryan stared at the self-proclaimed faun. “No. My mom's name is Jennifer. I'm pretty sure Dad wasn't called Adam, either.”

The faun stared back at him. There was a moment's pause, while incomprehension reigned on both sides of the conversation. The faun eventually seemed to come out of it, though, shaking its head briefly.

“Are you human?” it—or he, rather; Ryan felt that it was probably rude to keep referring to Brendon as an “it” after he had actually gone through the trouble of introducing himself—asked.

“Um,” said Ryan. “Yes. Of course.”

“Oh, yeah, thank you.” Brendon rolled his eyes. “Of course, because being human is what's normal and all those creepy fauns and centaurs and dryads and whatever can just go hide in the woods. You're really no better, are you? I thought your side of the doorway was supposed to be about free choice and an individualistic society where everyone could stand tall—well, fine, the dwarves would probably still have trouble with that part, but a lot of them seem pretty well off on this side anyway, despite the whole oppression thing. Assholes.”

“What the fuck are you?” Ryan asked.

Brendon gave him an odd look. “I'm a faun,” he said, speaking slowly and with great emphasis on the last word. Ryan shrugged at him, non-plussed. “Don't tell me you've never seen a faun before. What? You haven't? What kind of place is your side?”