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THE ART OF STORY TELLING:
Jessenia
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"Gather. Gather." The voice echoed through the woods like a soft whisper of wind. This was the call of the story teller, Amatsu. The ancient kitsune teller who was older than life itself and told the greatest stories in all the Makai. Children, mothers, fathers, grandparents, murderers, kings, thieves, everyone would gather as equals around the enchanting being to hear the latest tale of long ago.
But tonight, hearing his calls, few came. Few were left alive, or out of hiding, and almost none had time to hear the old youko speak, so involved were they in the disasters which they had caused and the destruction which they were forcing upon the three worlds.
Of the few who came, there were two young youkai, one, a girl with short red hair and dazzling blue/green eyes, the other, her companion, a boy, short brown hair and green eyes. They sat in the glen, putting their weapons aside and waiting for the tale to begin. There were only four other people in the glen with the old teller. The talk hushed and then stopped as Amatsu began.
"My children. Tonight my story is more of a test than a tale. I shall begin with the breath that I inhale, and cast a spell upon you all, using my words
to take us to a place where dreams of ningen, beast and youkai dwell, and our nightmares patiently await our return in the night. Now I shall present
to you a story, happening now, at this very moment, in a place that you refuse to know. I present to you a tale that will tell itself ..."
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standard disclaimers apply.