In a Land of Fabrication: The Forest

You take to the air with a few beats of your wings, alighting gently upon Akuuko, the Rewoven.

Brightly, you say to Akuuko, the Rewoven, "Good evening, Akuuko!"

You smile and say to Akuuko, the Rewoven, "It's been a little while since I told you a story! Mama and the Lord Scarlet Courtesan spoke a few months ago, near the new year, did you know? Mama made it clear that She wants us to be good to you while you're staying!"

You say to Akuuko, the Rewoven, "So I thought I should come and tell you more stories!"

You smile and say to Akuuko, the Rewoven, "That way, if you don't want to stay forever, at least you'll have a lot of stories to think about!"

You smile broadly and say to Akuuko, the Rewoven, "And if you do, then you'll get to hear all the new stories too!"

Wistfully, you say to Akuuko, the Rewoven, "Stories are important! Nobody should have to live without any stories or music...."

You have emoted: Tucking her tiny violin beneath her chin, Aleyah idly begins to tune it as she chatters from Akuuko, the Rewoven's shoulder. "The story I wanted to tell you today takes place in the land of Fabrication! Like the story about the two Fae Lords in a Basin without the Maeve."

Chirpily, you say to Akuuko, the Rewoven, "It starts with a song! One day, hopefully, the whole story will be a song, but I haven't written it yet."

You nod your head at yourself.

You have emoted: Tucking her tiny violin beneath her chin, Aleyah idly begins to tune it as she chatters from Akuuko, the Rewoven's shoulder. "The story I wanted to tell you today takes place in the land of Fabrication! Like the story about the two Fae Lords in a Basin without the Maeve."

Chirpily, you say to Akuuko, the Rewoven, "It starts with a song! One day, hopefully, the whole story will be a song, but I haven't written it yet."

Aleyah coaxes a soft and dream-like melody from it, the gentle, floating notes reminiscent of those that echo from a harp. "Far away, in a village, at the edge of a forest, at the age of becoming a man....." She sings, the tune itself oddly mournful, "They are sent to the woods with a white iv'ry dagger to explore - and survive, if they can...."

In the same mournfully dreamlike tune, you sing to Akuuko, the Rewoven, "One such child did approach their first trial of the forest, a thing that they have come to dread: they had seen, in their childhood three strong healthy sisters not return, to be presumed as dead......"

You have emoted: Humming softly, Aleyah focuses on the gentle tune coaxed forth from her violin for a time, eyes slipping closed and voice thrumming gently in time.

Softly, you sing to Akuuko, the Rewoven, "Oh they begged, oh they cried, see my sisters have died, why must I go and venture alone? But the town, it replied, it is part of our lives to go forth and to face the unknown...."

Softly, you sing to Akuuko, the Rewoven, "Far away in a village, at the end of a forest, lives a child, young, frightened and pale.... Now they go to the woods with their white iv'ry dagger, firm and sure that they're going to fail....."

You have emoted: Aleyah pauses, the music dwindling away. She emits a faint, pensive hum.

You say to Akuuko, the Rewoven, "The frightened child did not find death in those woods. Though scarce they could believe it, in lieu of forest dead set on tearing them to pieces, they found all the previous failures living together, building a life away from a village that would use such isolation as torment."

You say to Akuuko, the Rewoven, "Their sisters were there to welcome them! And they were sat down and told that the eldest among them had made the very intentional choice not to go back. Not everyone made that choice, of course - the village had plenty of adults who saw nothing wrong with this way of doing things, but those that stayed built in the forest a community dedicated to living and growing beyond the reach of such 'civilized' tyranny."

You say to Akuuko, the Rewoven, "I do not know yet, if the child opted to stay, or went home again to their parents, a 'victor' of the trials of loneliness.... But I like to think they found their family in the wood and decided to live again, away from those who could not sympathise with their own fears."

You say to Akuuko, the Rewoven, "Because while being frightened is quite an important part of growth.... so is having a welcoming community on the other side, and so is learning to grow without the overbearing impersonality of a city."

You tilt your head back and look up at the sky.
You smile and say, "I'd like to make it a song."

You say to Akuuko, the Rewoven, "...it's funny. I began writing this years and years ago, and now.... it's dropped back into my head! A lot of things are coming back to memory...."

You think to yourself: Is it about you, or.... about Gurashi? I cannot tell....

You think to yourself: It was about neither, before. Now it seems to be both.

You think to yourself: It's funny how stories do that.

You think to yourself: I am Her story-keeper.... I will be the best Story-Keeper. I promise.

You smile softly at Akuuko, the Rewoven.

You say to Akuuko, the Rewoven, "I hope.... you are happy here."
You say to Akuuko, the Rewoven, "I hope you are happy with us."

Softly, you say to Akuuko, the Rewoven, "I hope you stay. You've been ever such good company, and I hope we make you happy. I hope you come home."

You reach out to tenderly cup Akuuko, the Rewoven's cheek in your hand.
Taking to the air, you flutter within range to leave a soft, affectionate kiss upon the brow of Akuuko, the Rewoven.