my brother just came into my room and heard that i was listening to @thatsthat24 and @welcome-to-the-joangle’s song and immediately compared it to steven universe and if that isn’t a compliment i don’t know what is
The Day of Story and Song was the day the world nearly ended. It was the day that everyone in the world simultaneously remembered wars of years passed and loved ones long lost and forgotten. Even for those who never knew these people or lived through these wars, they learned everything about them. They heard countless beautiful songs, saw so many incredible works of art, and heard stories beyond their imaginations.
They also learned of a group of seven researchers and explorers and–as they’re known now–heroes who traveled through time and space to a hundred impossible worlds. They were lands inhabited by huge animals, living robots, mushroom monsters. Endless beaches, forests, deserts. Worlds filled with prosperous life to worlds devoid of any. But more important than these worlds were the ones who traveled between them.
The twins, the lover, the protector, the peacemaker, the lonely journal keeper, and the wordless one. The people learned everything about them but their names. How they lived, and loved, and died, and lived and died again and again for a hundred years while they struggled to run from the horrible entity that pursued them.
This entity the people learned of, too. The Hunger. How it hunted and killed these heroes over and over in its mad chase for the light of creation, devouring every world in its path on the way. They learned what it was, how it worked, and they learned of the man in charge: John.
Even with all of this knowledge though, what could the people do but fend the foes they could now see off? The people would only be able to persist for so long against these worlds’ worth of assailants. They had no choice but to put their faith and life into the hands of these seven heroes they now knew as well as if they had known them their whole lives and then some. They put their faith into the heroes and held off their coming deaths for as long as they had to until the heroes came through.
And in the years to pass, the story of these heroes, of this day, of the art, and music, and countless impossible worlds they learned all about is passed on between generations so that everyone who wasn’t there that day to remember would learn.
And of all the things they remembered and learned, the last and maybe most peculiar was the image of a small, crudely but lovingly carved wooden duck.