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| It had been a long time since the Fae and Humans converged. |
"Every picture has a story," said Pixie. And thus it began: the free-form, interactive story. Come JOIN IN!
Don't Go In the Woods
My morning was misty as I
traveled along the stones to where we once met as council. It had been a long
time since the Fae and the Humans converged. It seemed the Humans stopped
believing.
Disbelief is a mould. It grows gradually, unnoticed, until its pervasive presence fills all the very
air, poisoning lungs and bodies. Some humans resisted though, and if it isn't
the purpose of the fantastical to ignite imagination and belief in the
extraordinary, what is it?
And so here we were, a covert meeting to determine
how our two people might work together to revitalize a dreary world, a world once brought
together by whimsical imagination, fairytale magic, and childlike beliefs.
Granted, it wasn't
always so whimsical. The Fae could be just as any other race. Wars, squabbles,
disputes; they were, at times, no better than the Humans that had forgotten
them. But, there is always a spark of something more.
I sat amongst the moss
covered stones. Silent as the earth itself, and waited. I could feel the forest breathing, the mist settling upon my skin, claiming me, pulling me into it's mystery. I nearly became lost in the silence,
the peace, forgetting the true purpose of this errand, the importance of my
mission, when a sound so slight broke my trance. My eyes narrowed searching for
the source.
Distorted by the
lingering fog, it could have just as easily been a tumbling acorn or a
foot-snapped twig. It was neither, we all realized concurrently, as the first
human stepped through the whorls. He was
buttoning his jacket against the elements as if he hadn’t ever set foot in the
woods. Eerily, given the state of the
world, that was too real a possibility.
He glanced around,
his expression one of fear mixed with disbelief. He knew what he had been told,
but did they really expect him to believe that he was to meet Fae? They were
the things of bed time tales, creatures that danced through the dreams of
slumbering children. Yet he had no choice, the situation was dire and if they
were real, Fae magic could be the deciding factor.
He stood there for
a moment, it felt like forever. We all stared at him, wondering what he might
do next. Just then he started to mutter something under his breathe. Eyebrows flew up,
postures stiffening amongst the Fae on their moss-padded rocks. The wind seemed to hold its breath along with
those in the circle.
"Welcome" she
said, hoping to ease the tension.
He smiled, then asked if
he could come and sit down. The Fae nodded and with a gesture from the young
man, a few more scruffy faces peeked out of the woods. The ragamuffin band all
surveyed the stone circle, wide-eyed, and wondered what the real reason was for
that sign they had passed on the way in.
While the Humans had
their raggle-taggle band, the Fae were not far from the same. Representatives
from several tribes - races of the fae, as it were - had moved into the clearing.
Tribal Pixies, High Fae, Elves, nymphs, dryads, and more. All were there in
hopes to bring back the old ways of living with Human interaction. But the feel
was a bit tense. Could this work again? Most looked to a solitary fae, waiting,
she was their speaker. And after the humans finally settled in, she spoke.
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| They wondered what the real reason was for that sign they had passed on the way in. |
Every adventure begins
with one foot moving in front of the other, they say. It's also the most difficult step
to be taken.
Some had come out of curiosity, always the bane and blessing of those
with open minds and hearts. Others had come for lack of more paramount
dealings. Still others, those few amongst few, who remembered something they
couldn't describe, something they never knew in their minds, in their hearts,
could never forget.
These beings, these strange creatures, all lit with a life
essence like their own, yet...alien. Frightening, yet kin. And as the spirits
within called for recognition of older times, simpler times, there was
anticipation amongst those humans gathered, the brave and anxious alike.
Mortal eyes followed
enchanted ones as the slender speaker stepped through the gathered fae, mindful
of the mushroom hats at her feet. Lowering her fleece hood, she was an unlikely
diplomat adorned not in flowering gowns or gossamer layers, but instead dressed
in her elvish-cut coat with its angular lines.
Her wheat-colored hair was streaked with bark-brown locks, making it
difficult to tell what its true color actually was.
Nevertheless, the high sigils embroidered on her sleeves indicated her
position and when she spoke, her voice removed all doubt.
The young man, first
drawn out by the allure, made efforts to quiet his comrades, bringing their
mutterings to an end, though wide-eyes gazing around remained. His efforts even
met with a cuff on the head of a younger fellow and a finger to his lips, shushing
the other.
What tensions there were before heightened. Afterall, who hadn't
heard rumors and legends of the voice, the very melodic sound itself, of such
a creature? Naturally, more than a few remembered other stories about such
incantations as was the voice of the fae, trapping one in a stupor forever. But
in the first to arrive, there was no fear - leastways, none that he would let
show.
Gifts they had brought to
give, to the fae and their fellow forest friends. Things like shiny trinkets,
sweets, and wine. In hopes that they could continue to commune in a friendly
and peaceful to state, with their other worldly offering.
It helped. No sooner had the humans gingerly placed their offerings in
the circle’s center, than a hiss of high and tiny whispers hushed over the
ground. For a moment, the forest floor swelled
like a blanket lifted by wind, as a surge of nigh invisible sprites, pin-elves
and bogarts raced for the treasure.
“Shaaaaare…” The
speaker’s voice carried gentle firmness. Even to human ears the slump of little
shoulders in unison was audible, causing the corner of Ry’llia’s mouth to
twinge. The slender woman turned to the young man who lead this human rabble, “The
olde guard would keep us from meeting – we can appreciate the risk you took in
coming. Le nathlam hí. Be welcome, Xan.”
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