Oriash
they promised that dreams can come true
She doesn’t long for power, but she does long for something. For more, for some intangible thing that cannot be shaped into thoughts. She longs too simply to live outside the shadow of her mother. Those cravings have yet to manifest into true action, but perhaps she would seek power in her quest for more. Power was the obvious choice, whether it be political power or magical power or strength or the ability to create fear. Well…she could already create fear. Quiet literally.
It’s not something she’s been able to practice much, but the concept seems almost easier than painting worlds. If her power is over the mind, then why shouldn’t she be able to create something that belongs so securely in the mind itself, something created and shaped and nurtured there. The hardest part was finding the fear to pick on. She could make it from scratch, of course, but what she would need is the power to find it in order to be truly effective.
She has never sought that power because, as of yet, she does not know if that is who she wants to be. Empathy perhaps could give her the ability to create fear or joy, to give her the ability to swing between one thing and the next as she so often does. Ori is a changeable, malleable thing, unable to find one shape and stay within it. She is clay that fits into the mold she is given and never set into a kiln. One day she’d wear up and dry out from overuse, perhaps, but she was far too young to concern herself with that.
His request comes as something of a shock, and she laughs a bit. Not at him, but simply at the surprise of it. The truth is Ori has absolutely no idea what the moon looks like, but she figures he likely does not either and it seems safe enough to make something up. It is not hard to make an educated guess.
The forest disappears again, and instead she paints the ground beneath them dusty gray, pockmarked with craters large and small. Around them, the sky turns black and far in the distance she paints what she images the world might look like from so far away. It is light, blue and white with some obvious patches of land mixed it. Ori has no concept of gravity or air, and so these things don’t change. It is imperfect, but it is something.
“Or so I imagine, she says, offering him the truth. There is no reason to lie, to pretend that she knows what the moon looks like. How could she? She is made only of illusions, of falsehoods, rather than reality and truths. “I’m Ori,” she offers, leaving them on the moon. She moves a hoof and dust floats up from around where she places it back down, playing a bit with the world she has created. If they walked, she would not be able to keep up those small details, but at least for a moment she can pretend.
but they forgot that nightmares are dreams too.
@[Darkling]
Use of mild power playing is allowed; no injuries without permission