[The memory is underground. Not even in a cave - it's a huge, vast cavern with the air of a cathedral, a holiness and beauty that bypasses any expectation of what a cave is supposed to be. Soft green moss covers every stone. Flowers bloom from the floor to the ceiling. Whole forests of evergreens grow in the underground world, through which a river runs with a rainbow of colors. There's a waterfall somewhere in the distance.
There is no darkness here. Instead, the warmest, kindest light shines, like sunlight through the leaves of a great green tree, on the most whimsical little world that was never seen by mortals.
There are rabbits everywhere. None is larger than a hare. Most, in fact, are smaller and daintier, cuter than wild rabbits with their big jewel-toned eyes and ornamentations of flowers and carved gems.
Despite their size, it's undeniable that they're people. Walking and talking in groups and pairs, carving stone and leaning on farming tools, painting with tiny brushes, clustered around flat stones cleared of moss with chalk in paw to share (and argue about) architectural designs, magical sigilry, mathematical formulas, lyrics of half-written songs, and on, and on.
The cavern, winding on into the earth in tunnels all illuminated with the light of dawn, is a society. There's nothing less than a city of prosperous, creative, happy little rabbits flourishing somewhere beneath the surface of the Earth.
The Easter Bunny towers over them all at his full 6 feet of height as he observes the memory from the outside, calm with the detachment of amnesia,.]
Huh. I don't remember this.
[He crouches down as a knee-high brown rabbit hops by, reaching into a messenger bag to pull out a working pocket watch.] 'Course I don't remember anything past 1920. Cute though, innit?
tw: for imminent animal death and fantasy genocide
There is no darkness here. Instead, the warmest, kindest light shines, like sunlight through the leaves of a great green tree, on the most whimsical little world that was never seen by mortals.
There are rabbits everywhere. None is larger than a hare. Most, in fact, are smaller and daintier, cuter than wild rabbits with their big jewel-toned eyes and ornamentations of flowers and carved gems.
Despite their size, it's undeniable that they're people. Walking and talking in groups and pairs, carving stone and leaning on farming tools, painting with tiny brushes, clustered around flat stones cleared of moss with chalk in paw to share (and argue about) architectural designs, magical sigilry, mathematical formulas, lyrics of half-written songs, and on, and on.
The cavern, winding on into the earth in tunnels all illuminated with the light of dawn, is a society. There's nothing less than a city of prosperous, creative, happy little rabbits flourishing somewhere beneath the surface of the Earth.
The Easter Bunny towers over them all at his full 6 feet of height as he observes the memory from the outside, calm with the detachment of amnesia,.]
Huh. I don't remember this.
[He crouches down as a knee-high brown rabbit hops by, reaching into a messenger bag to pull out a working pocket watch.] 'Course I don't remember anything past 1920. Cute though, innit?