Thursday, October 11, 2012

Collaborative Storyweaving!

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.
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.”

...To be continued...

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