"Tell us! Tell us!" The cacophony of young voices chimed at their elder, spurring the man on, demanding he tell the story they had been so far refused. The older man chuckled slightly, the skin around his mouth and eyes crinkling merrily as he allowed himself a small smile. A stiff and weathered hand mapped through his hair, disturbing the near ancient bird that made it's nest there. The bird took a moment to squawk angrily at the man before settling down again.
"Calm down, calm down." His voice beaten but commanding, a testament to the trials he had endured. That many had endured, and few had survived. The youths gathered in an imperfect circle in front of him quieted down immediately, eager to hear what the eldest of them all had to say, his word the law to their small group. The man licked his dry and cracked lips, petting the yellow bird resting in his hair out of nervous habit, the soft yellow down a comfort to him.
"I don't know if I should tell you. You're all still young. You have plenty of time to grow up and learn of all the atrocities committed through out our earth's short history." This statement earned him loud protest from the small group of eight, a vast difference from all that there used to be. The group fell quiet as the adult held up his creased and weathered hand to silence their protests. His eyes wandered the group, the eight rambunctious youths that had amazingly managed to hold on to at least some little shred of happiness after the tragedy that had stricken the world. Did they really need to know? Would telling them really make any difference, could it stop them from repeating histories mistakes?
"All right, I'll tell you, but I warn you now, it's not a pretty story. Not a fairy tale, and if your lucky, it might just leave your dreams alone. I'm only telling you out of concern for your futures." He paused, took a deep breath and once again began to pet the peacefully sleeping bird. "I only tell you because I don't want you to make the same mistakes. This story, it's bloody and not suited for children, but if you insist your so grown up, I'll tell you, even if it is completely against my better judgment." At his words a small white haired girl kneeling on the carpet in front of him whimpered. He leaned forward, picking her up and setting her on his lap, giving her a reassuring smile.
"Tell the story!" A dirty blond chimed, crossing his arms in a mock of irritation, smiling at the chuckle he received. The only adult in the room, shook his head, debating just what good it would do to reprimand the boy. Not much. No, he was too much like… no, he wasn't going to think about him. He wouldn't start crying, not in front of the kids. At such a crucial time, they needed him to be strong.
"It's not a story Aiden, and it's not to be taken lightly. This is history, and one of- no, the most devastating event to date. I want you to take it seriously. If you can't do that, I won't tell you." He threatened, watching, scrutinizing, as the boy's face fell and he apologized quickly. The little girl readjusted herself on his lap, and he turned his attention back to her. She was so young. Too young to have to bear the burdens of the world, but unfortunately that wasn't something he could help. He sighed, patting her head.
"Alright, listen well, this is the retelling of a tragedy, and I've no clue just how much I'll be able to tell accurately, but this is what happened eighty-four years ago. January thirteenth, twenty-twelve, several countries declared war. This was the beginning of a long and bloody half-century. The beginning of World War Three. The War of No Victories."