Post by Aladdin "Ali" Ababwa on Jun 27, 2011 15:51:17 GMT -5
( January 3rd, Open to all )
Aladdin quietly meandered down the sidewalk, his hands dug into the pockets of his jeans. It was a frigid Saturday morning in Brooklyn, something he didn’t know if he’d ever get used to. He dressed warmly in a brown wool sweater along with a heavy coat and scarf. Over his head he wore a Yankees hat, and on his feet were thick brown work boots. To an observer he looked quite normal, as nothing about him was out of place. He seemed like an average Brooklynite on his way to a coffee shop. But compared to most people, nothing about him was average. The average New Yorker didn’t have a Genie and a Magic Carpet for best friends, nor was he from an apparently nonexistent city in the desert where he was married to a Princess. But over the past few months he’d made himself look normal at least.
It all began when he was flying on Carpet through the desert on a trip to Odiferous. Everything had started out peacefully enough until a sandstorm snuck up behind them. Carpet tried to outfly it but it soon overtook them, and Aladdin was thrown to the ground. That was the last thing he remembered before waking up in an alleyway here in Brooklyn. He’d been dressed in his blue and grey travelling clothes, so as soon as he stepped out onto the sidewalk he’d gotten funny looks. He’d found himself in quite literally a whole new world. He’d wandered the streets for a while, looking for any familiar faces but was only met with those of strangers. His mind had been ( and still was ) buzzing with several conclusions as to why he was here. Perhaps it was another scheme of Mirage or Mozenrath’s to dispose of him, or at least to keep him busy while Agrabah was attacked, or to get him away while Jasmine or one of his friends was kidnapped.
He’d asked people if they’d heard of Agrabah, but they simply answered that they hadn’t and looked at him like he was crazy. He’d learned to stop asking questions rather quickly, as it could earn him a trip to an asylum. Instead he’d bought new clothes, and secured himself a job as a high school history teacher. When he wasn’t teaching he was on archaeological digs—the only thing here that he was sure he was good at. He found an interest in history because it reminded him of his home in Agrabah. To this society, his own was obsolete. The technology here was sampling baffling and yet amazing. He understood some of it fairly well because of Genie’s usual shenanigans, but he was still taken aback at how advanced everything was. The skyscrapers and the cars and trains—they confused and yet intrigued him.
Regardless of how impressive this world was, he still very much wanted to see home again. He missed his friends, whom he considered his family, and his old life. But still…at least here there wasn’t the threat of some angry sorcerer attacking the city, and him having to fly to their rescue. He hadn’t minded the heroics, not one bit, but the thing he did mind was that his exploits put the ones he cared about in danger. The one thing he feared most was losing Jasmine because of some maniac’s harebrained scheme to use her as bait. And yet it wouldn’t be harebrained, because he knew it would work. He’d come running like the lovesick fool he was and always would be, always too quick to rush into danger when her life was on the line. When Arbitus had kidnapped her, he’d taken off on Carpet without a second thought. When he’d finally confronted the gardener, he’d found it difficult to keep his emotions in check, even as Jasmine had tried to explain to him that he wasn’t a monster as they’d previously thought.
That was his problem really—his impulsiveness. After all this time, he’d never learned how to keep it in check. Sure he’d grown up, he was more responsible, he took more time to think things over, but when it came down to it he tended to think with his heart first as opposed to his head. He’d always thought that way, even as a child. He supposed that was one of the differences between him and Jasmine. He had always been rash and spontaneous as a kid, having the freedom to do so, unlike her. He often let his feelings rule over his actions, whereas she was always looking out for the interests of the people before her own. She’d told him this when the king of Quarkistan came to take her back to his palace, and because the citizens of that country were suffering because of his anger, she agreed to stay with him. Everything had worked out in the end but it was the first time he’d ever been aware of the discrepancy between their mindsets. And yet regardless of this he was willing to do anything and everything in order to keep her safe. If he had an Achilles’ heel it was this—his love for Jasmine—as far as he knew his enemies hadn’t figured it out yet, which was ironic.
Still, he couldn’t help but wondering once more if one of his many foes was behind this. Maybe they were more clever than he’d initially thought. That’s not to say that his battles with them weren’t challenging, as they were, but each time they showed up he’d found devised some plan way to defeat them. If one of them had caused this they certainly weren’t flaunting it. Most of the time after an enemy’s scheme was hatched they’d come along and gloat about it to him soon after, but he hadn’t been paid a visit by anyone, friend or foe. If this was some sort of torture to get him to crack, it most certainly wasn’t working. He was fine—he’d always been resourceful and streetwise, so New York suited him just fine. It was similar to Agrabah in a way—the atmosphere was somewhat different, but it was still a huge trade city, though his hometown was dwarfed by New York’s sheer size. Of course he missed his home, but what he missed most were his wife and friends.
Stopping outside a small coffee shop, he pushed open the door and entered, taking off his hat and unzipping his coat. He ordered himself a latte and sat down next to the window, gazing out at the horizon past the snow piled up around the windowpane. He couldn’t stay here forever— he had to get home somehow.
Aladdin quietly meandered down the sidewalk, his hands dug into the pockets of his jeans. It was a frigid Saturday morning in Brooklyn, something he didn’t know if he’d ever get used to. He dressed warmly in a brown wool sweater along with a heavy coat and scarf. Over his head he wore a Yankees hat, and on his feet were thick brown work boots. To an observer he looked quite normal, as nothing about him was out of place. He seemed like an average Brooklynite on his way to a coffee shop. But compared to most people, nothing about him was average. The average New Yorker didn’t have a Genie and a Magic Carpet for best friends, nor was he from an apparently nonexistent city in the desert where he was married to a Princess. But over the past few months he’d made himself look normal at least.
It all began when he was flying on Carpet through the desert on a trip to Odiferous. Everything had started out peacefully enough until a sandstorm snuck up behind them. Carpet tried to outfly it but it soon overtook them, and Aladdin was thrown to the ground. That was the last thing he remembered before waking up in an alleyway here in Brooklyn. He’d been dressed in his blue and grey travelling clothes, so as soon as he stepped out onto the sidewalk he’d gotten funny looks. He’d found himself in quite literally a whole new world. He’d wandered the streets for a while, looking for any familiar faces but was only met with those of strangers. His mind had been ( and still was ) buzzing with several conclusions as to why he was here. Perhaps it was another scheme of Mirage or Mozenrath’s to dispose of him, or at least to keep him busy while Agrabah was attacked, or to get him away while Jasmine or one of his friends was kidnapped.
He’d asked people if they’d heard of Agrabah, but they simply answered that they hadn’t and looked at him like he was crazy. He’d learned to stop asking questions rather quickly, as it could earn him a trip to an asylum. Instead he’d bought new clothes, and secured himself a job as a high school history teacher. When he wasn’t teaching he was on archaeological digs—the only thing here that he was sure he was good at. He found an interest in history because it reminded him of his home in Agrabah. To this society, his own was obsolete. The technology here was sampling baffling and yet amazing. He understood some of it fairly well because of Genie’s usual shenanigans, but he was still taken aback at how advanced everything was. The skyscrapers and the cars and trains—they confused and yet intrigued him.
Regardless of how impressive this world was, he still very much wanted to see home again. He missed his friends, whom he considered his family, and his old life. But still…at least here there wasn’t the threat of some angry sorcerer attacking the city, and him having to fly to their rescue. He hadn’t minded the heroics, not one bit, but the thing he did mind was that his exploits put the ones he cared about in danger. The one thing he feared most was losing Jasmine because of some maniac’s harebrained scheme to use her as bait. And yet it wouldn’t be harebrained, because he knew it would work. He’d come running like the lovesick fool he was and always would be, always too quick to rush into danger when her life was on the line. When Arbitus had kidnapped her, he’d taken off on Carpet without a second thought. When he’d finally confronted the gardener, he’d found it difficult to keep his emotions in check, even as Jasmine had tried to explain to him that he wasn’t a monster as they’d previously thought.
That was his problem really—his impulsiveness. After all this time, he’d never learned how to keep it in check. Sure he’d grown up, he was more responsible, he took more time to think things over, but when it came down to it he tended to think with his heart first as opposed to his head. He’d always thought that way, even as a child. He supposed that was one of the differences between him and Jasmine. He had always been rash and spontaneous as a kid, having the freedom to do so, unlike her. He often let his feelings rule over his actions, whereas she was always looking out for the interests of the people before her own. She’d told him this when the king of Quarkistan came to take her back to his palace, and because the citizens of that country were suffering because of his anger, she agreed to stay with him. Everything had worked out in the end but it was the first time he’d ever been aware of the discrepancy between their mindsets. And yet regardless of this he was willing to do anything and everything in order to keep her safe. If he had an Achilles’ heel it was this—his love for Jasmine—as far as he knew his enemies hadn’t figured it out yet, which was ironic.
Still, he couldn’t help but wondering once more if one of his many foes was behind this. Maybe they were more clever than he’d initially thought. That’s not to say that his battles with them weren’t challenging, as they were, but each time they showed up he’d found devised some plan way to defeat them. If one of them had caused this they certainly weren’t flaunting it. Most of the time after an enemy’s scheme was hatched they’d come along and gloat about it to him soon after, but he hadn’t been paid a visit by anyone, friend or foe. If this was some sort of torture to get him to crack, it most certainly wasn’t working. He was fine—he’d always been resourceful and streetwise, so New York suited him just fine. It was similar to Agrabah in a way—the atmosphere was somewhat different, but it was still a huge trade city, though his hometown was dwarfed by New York’s sheer size. Of course he missed his home, but what he missed most were his wife and friends.
Stopping outside a small coffee shop, he pushed open the door and entered, taking off his hat and unzipping his coat. He ordered himself a latte and sat down next to the window, gazing out at the horizon past the snow piled up around the windowpane. He couldn’t stay here forever— he had to get home somehow.
