[The feed opens on a little clearing in a rain forest. It's late at night, only silvery moon lighting the scene, filtering in through a canopy and mist. Circled up between the opening of a cavern and a line of tree trunks, a little family is huddled.
Well, maybe not so little. There's a man with blue hair and green skin, sitting in front of the cave, holding a wooden flute. Surrounding him on either side are twenty children. They can't be more than five or six years old, all of them with enormous gray eyes. Their hair is pastel--some blue, some pink, some purple, some yellow--and they all have mint-green skin. Sitting near the trees is a sinewy woman with pink hair and a wary gaze, sharpening a broken tree branch with long, black talons.
All of them--every single one--has enormous black wings, tucked neatly against their backs.
It's not hard to pick out Ariadne in the group. She's curled up tight against her father's side, staring at him with the same sort of wonder Ariadne looks at anything fascinating. He strokes her hair absently, though he speaks to all of them.]
When our island sank, our people were scattered to the four corners of existence. Great packs with even greater leaders thrived, in spite of everything against us.
[A little boy with blue hair pipes up.]
Like what?
[The father chuckles.]
Jagged red rocks. Sun hot enough to bleach bone. A world without softness. An unforgiving world.
[The mother speaks up at this.]
And Humans. Don't forget them.
[He shakes his head.]
Some Humans, yes.
[The tiny Ariadne tilts her head.]
But not all of them, right?
No, not all.
[The mother narrows her eyes. It seems she has some opinions on the subjet, but the father is quick to continue.]
Despite everything against us. We survived. And now, we continue to survive. And because of you--each and every one of you--we will always survive. That's what's important. And why? Because you are our pack. We're strong because we're together. We'll always look out for each other. Yes? Do you all promise to protect one another?
[The children nod their heads solemnly. This pleases the father, who smiles, reaching out to cup the chins of those within reach.]
As long as at least one of us is alive, we all live forever. Through our memories. Through our stories. One day, one of you will replace me as the storyteller. And one of your children will replace you. And the line will never be broken.
[Tiny Ariadne hugs her father's knee.]
I want to be storyteller!
[He laughs.]
And you might well be, Ariadne.
[But the memory fades there. Ironically as Ariadne's dreams of once being the pack storyteller had to fade. But Omnis surely don't know about irony, right?]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ninetydegrees
[ACCIDENTAL VIDEO] UN: [username not set]
Well, maybe not so little. There's a man with blue hair and green skin, sitting in front of the cave, holding a wooden flute. Surrounding him on either side are twenty children. They can't be more than five or six years old, all of them with enormous gray eyes. Their hair is pastel--some blue, some pink, some purple, some yellow--and they all have mint-green skin. Sitting near the trees is a sinewy woman with pink hair and a wary gaze, sharpening a broken tree branch with long, black talons.
All of them--every single one--has enormous black wings, tucked neatly against their backs.
It's not hard to pick out Ariadne in the group. She's curled up tight against her father's side, staring at him with the same sort of wonder Ariadne looks at anything fascinating. He strokes her hair absently, though he speaks to all of them.]
When our island sank, our people were scattered to the four corners of existence. Great packs with even greater leaders thrived, in spite of everything against us.
[A little boy with blue hair pipes up.]
Like what?
[The father chuckles.]
Jagged red rocks. Sun hot enough to bleach bone. A world without softness. An unforgiving world.
[The mother speaks up at this.]
And Humans. Don't forget them.
[He shakes his head.]
Some Humans, yes.
[The tiny Ariadne tilts her head.]
But not all of them, right?
No, not all.
[The mother narrows her eyes. It seems she has some opinions on the subjet, but the father is quick to continue.]
Despite everything against us. We survived. And now, we continue to survive. And because of you--each and every one of you--we will always survive. That's what's important. And why? Because you are our pack. We're strong because we're together. We'll always look out for each other. Yes? Do you all promise to protect one another?
[The children nod their heads solemnly. This pleases the father, who smiles, reaching out to cup the chins of those within reach.]
As long as at least one of us is alive, we all live forever. Through our memories. Through our stories. One day, one of you will replace me as the storyteller. And one of your children will replace you. And the line will never be broken.
[Tiny Ariadne hugs her father's knee.]
I want to be storyteller!
[He laughs.]
And you might well be, Ariadne.
[But the memory fades there. Ironically as Ariadne's dreams of once being the pack storyteller had to fade. But Omnis surely don't know about irony, right?]