they promised that dreams can come true
She has taken a liking to Loess. There was much of the world she did not yet know, and even much of Loess that she does not yet know, but she finds more comfort here than she ever did in the Cove. Perhaps it’s just a bit of Stockholm syndrome setting in, but then again, she left the Cove almost willingly, seeking something more. Perhaps Loess was enough, and perhaps not, but it was something and she found herself enjoying the rocky landscape and it’s strange and varied flora and fauna. She missed the black sand beaches of the Cove, but she missed little else.
Today, as she does many days, Ori curls up on the ground perched near one of the saltwater springs. She still gravitates toward the water here and she did in the Cove. Her mothers are with her, as they so often are, brought to life without a second thought. They come at go at will, as if they truly were alive and with her here. They graze nearby as she practices, drawing fish of rainbow colors into the water before her. The sunlight catches their scales and she imagines how the water around should glitter with those colors and with the thought, it becomes real.
She’s grinning at the fish below, too distracted by her own handiwork to notice the stallion that approaches until his voice breaks the silence. She looks up, startled, scrambling to her feet. The fish in the river disappear, though her mothers stay. They are second nature to her; they are the piece of her power that controls her and not the other way around. It is only once she’s on her feet that she notices the other horses with them now. They are real enough, but she can sense the difference, the illusion that lives within them and she finds herself staring at the illusions for a moment and then back at this stallion.
He looks nothing like her but for the antlers on his head, though antlers are common enough she can draw no parallel. Still, he had said my mothers and her mind is stuck on his use of my and the other horses that now populate the grassy area nearby. “Because they are my mothers too,” she answers, finally finding her voice and, despite everything, her voice is calm and cool as it always is. Ori is nothing if not both practical and childish all at once, though every day a bit of that childish-ness slips from her.
“I’m Oriash, or just Ori. Who are they?” She nods toward the other horses he has added to the herd, and she does not need to ask where they came from. They are not hers, and she simply knows they can only be his and the he is like her. The thought excites her, the realization that he might be willing to teach her. There’s some nibbling excitement at having family, but she cannot trust that, having been let down her the very family that should not have failed her so young. She could not dream of such a thing now, but she could dream of learning how to control her power.
Today, as she does many days, Ori curls up on the ground perched near one of the saltwater springs. She still gravitates toward the water here and she did in the Cove. Her mothers are with her, as they so often are, brought to life without a second thought. They come at go at will, as if they truly were alive and with her here. They graze nearby as she practices, drawing fish of rainbow colors into the water before her. The sunlight catches their scales and she imagines how the water around should glitter with those colors and with the thought, it becomes real.
She’s grinning at the fish below, too distracted by her own handiwork to notice the stallion that approaches until his voice breaks the silence. She looks up, startled, scrambling to her feet. The fish in the river disappear, though her mothers stay. They are second nature to her; they are the piece of her power that controls her and not the other way around. It is only once she’s on her feet that she notices the other horses with them now. They are real enough, but she can sense the difference, the illusion that lives within them and she finds herself staring at the illusions for a moment and then back at this stallion.
He looks nothing like her but for the antlers on his head, though antlers are common enough she can draw no parallel. Still, he had said my mothers and her mind is stuck on his use of my and the other horses that now populate the grassy area nearby. “Because they are my mothers too,” she answers, finally finding her voice and, despite everything, her voice is calm and cool as it always is. Ori is nothing if not both practical and childish all at once, though every day a bit of that childish-ness slips from her.
“I’m Oriash, or just Ori. Who are they?” She nods toward the other horses he has added to the herd, and she does not need to ask where they came from. They are not hers, and she simply knows they can only be his and the he is like her. The thought excites her, the realization that he might be willing to teach her. There’s some nibbling excitement at having family, but she cannot trust that, having been let down her the very family that should not have failed her so young. She could not dream of such a thing now, but she could dream of learning how to control her power.
Oriash
but they forgot that nightmares are dreams too
@[aegean] - no need to change, I love it <3