The older viscet had a weathered face that came from years of experience and life. She looked upon the young viscetlings before her. There were three each one as fluffy as the last and all of them adorable with shining eyes brimming with anticipation, as they waited for another one of her stories. They were the few last of their kind and the old nan was happy and proud to raise them. She smiled ruefully at them as the fire crackled nearby to keep them warm during this frosty day. The three young ones shifted uncomfortably under her gaze while she continued to study them. Nan tried to look contemplative as she “decided” what story to tell them all while fighting back her amused smile from broadening any further.
Finally, the oldest one of the trio, Solstice whose fur was hues of blues like an ice lake but as soft and warm as the fire they used tonight puffed up in frustration. He let out a soft impatient whine no doubt holding back a reservoir of complaints. He wasn’t happy that things weren’t going the way he wanted but knew better than to sass Nan. As soon as he started to whine so did his brother, his little shadow, a brown scruffy boy that was a bit scrawny but had large paws that he often stumbled over. Nan knew that he would grow into them how big he’d grow she didn’t know but Seigby’s most startling feature was not his paws but his pretty golden eyes that sometimes released soft wisps of magic. Lastly, the darker of the trio shifted around again and again never seeming to be truly still. Her dark ashy gray fur with streaks of violet and white shifted with her movements in little bounces. Spineli was a little firecracker that warmed Nans heart. She had a frown and a frustrated look as she shifted once more for good measure because she was unhappy. Story time had not yet started but Spineli would rather bite off her tongue before whining like her brothers.
Nan held back a laugh letting out a cough instead at all of their faces as they twitched and shifted. It was hard not to because they were impatient as youth often were and she liked watching them squirm. Though she knew that it was good for them to learn how to wait as they wouldn’t always get what they wanted immediately. Nan knew that lessons were important at least that was the excuse she had today. The night sky twinkled above them basking the scenery in a soft night glow as the youth grew more and more restless.
She finally spoke. Her voice was soft and barely above a whisper so that the trio had to lean in and listen well to hear, “The story of the Duende took place centuries ago.” She paused, wondering if this was an appropriate story for them at their age but it was too late to change stories now. So she pushed forward, “It’s a tale of a young viscet who thought she could challenge death itself.” As Nan begins to unravel the tale she starts describing a large flourishing town while her little ones listen attentively to her every word.
The town was known as Lunsol. It was filled with some of the first viscets to make settlements. At the time it was growing every year slowly engulfing the once wild and untamed landscape. Tents and misshapen hovels thrown together slowly became solid housing and businesses. The dirt road became paved with smooth stones for wagons and passerbys. The town which had once been a small circle of settlers became a web of intricate businesses, homes, and cobbled streets. As they grew they began to boast that they created the very moon and sun as a gift to the world and gods. Villagers of Lunsol said their town was so old it lived to see the dinosaurs come and go. It was a proud thriving town.
This town is where the Duende grew up. She lived with two of her older sisters whose names were lost long ago as names often were during those times. The three of them lived well and happily with their parents who owned a clothing shop. The little shop quickly became popular and soon their parents had three shops in the town and had hoped to open some more in a town a days ride away. They had a good life that was destined to be blessed for all three girls.
The eldest of the siblings was graceful and known to have many viscets flocking for her attention. She basked in the limelight and charmed all who met her. She was a beautiful and elegant viscet that many young girls aspired to be like. The middle sister loved to create beautiful works of art from paintings, to sculptures, to detailed sketches. She loved to draw the beauty she found in life. Every day she would walk about the town looking for inspiration and beauty wherever she could find it. She was an intelligent and confident viscet that strived for her own independence. Both were a refined type of beauty that many envied and desired to be like. Both seemed to be delicate and alluring filled with poise and charm to those who came across them.
The youngest of the trio, the Duende herself, was also beautiful but she was a different kind of beauty. While their beauty was that of grace and refinement hers was of the wild and earth. While they only ever explored areas they found beautiful she scoured all parts of the city to see what life was like outside of her own part of town. To her looking beautiful didn’t mean so much as long as she felt it. So she would constantly seek what she called the beautiful feeling. She was not easily tempered and would constantly do whatever she wanted to do despite peoples warnings or disapproval. You could find her scouring the dark parts of town late at night or going deep into the forest for days at a time. But most unlike her sisters she found a love of life in the most dangerous of places because that was where she felt living could be found.
