they promised that dreams can come true
Beauty is a weapon, is it not? When wielded properly it can both start and stop wars. When wielded properly, it is power without anyone realizing it, protection with only the bat of an eyelash. Beauty is a power Ori does not know how to wield, something that she is likely not capable of wielding. As herself, though pretty, she is nothing special. She is certainly not a walking flame, and she does not carry herself with any semblance of grace. It is a weapon she could so easily wield if only it were in her DNA to do so. After all, Ori is not limited by her true physical appearance, but can be anything to anyone, can twist and shape the perception of herself to others, can wear a new face.
This realization, like many others, has not yet crossed her mind. She has only begun to master sight and touch, dabbling in the other senses. So far she has only begun to imagine that she might be able to create pain or remove it, though she has yet to have the occasion to try and some part of her wonders what good it would do. Little can she imagine the illusion of pain may be as deadly as pain itself, but then again, Ori imagines little of the real world and vastly more of the worlds she paints around herself.
She cannot image the reasons behind the vengeful smile that creeps onto this strangers face. In fact, Ori remains entirely oblivious to it. That is how she finds herself most of the time, oblivious, with little purpose in this world other than to be a pawn. Perhaps one day she could care enough to change that – after all, she was vastly more powerful than any pawn, though she didn’t truly understand how powerful she could be, in time. Perhaps one day someone would come along and give her a reason to understand that she could be more than a pawn. After all, she has never been treated as more.
A mare the color of flame and with true flames dancing along her skin, approaches, snapping Ori from her own world. Her shadow slips back into place, becoming a regular shadow again, no longer animated by her power. The mare calls her beautiful, and Ori simply stares, finding that strange. The mare before her was, in fact, beautiful, and in comparison Ori was plain and ordinary. The second part of the comment throws her for a father loop. “ I wouldn’t know,” she says simply, though there’s no hurt or anger or any discernable emotion behind it, just the matter-of-fact way Ori views her life.
It is true, she wouldn’t know. She remembers Kagerus as a child remembers things, far more perfect than they truly were. She is sure that the spots are all wrong on the illusion she creates of her mother, that the color of their eyes has been lost to her memory entirely and changes periodically in her memory now. She knows only that the spots belong to Kagerus, and their color belongs to Solace, and that their existence marks her as their child and absolutely nothing more. Yet still, the idea to conceal them never crosses her mind, and even if it did, it is unlikely to do so. After all, what identity does she have but as the prisoner child of two ex-queens?
This realization, like many others, has not yet crossed her mind. She has only begun to master sight and touch, dabbling in the other senses. So far she has only begun to imagine that she might be able to create pain or remove it, though she has yet to have the occasion to try and some part of her wonders what good it would do. Little can she imagine the illusion of pain may be as deadly as pain itself, but then again, Ori imagines little of the real world and vastly more of the worlds she paints around herself.
She cannot image the reasons behind the vengeful smile that creeps onto this strangers face. In fact, Ori remains entirely oblivious to it. That is how she finds herself most of the time, oblivious, with little purpose in this world other than to be a pawn. Perhaps one day she could care enough to change that – after all, she was vastly more powerful than any pawn, though she didn’t truly understand how powerful she could be, in time. Perhaps one day someone would come along and give her a reason to understand that she could be more than a pawn. After all, she has never been treated as more.
A mare the color of flame and with true flames dancing along her skin, approaches, snapping Ori from her own world. Her shadow slips back into place, becoming a regular shadow again, no longer animated by her power. The mare calls her beautiful, and Ori simply stares, finding that strange. The mare before her was, in fact, beautiful, and in comparison Ori was plain and ordinary. The second part of the comment throws her for a father loop. “ I wouldn’t know,” she says simply, though there’s no hurt or anger or any discernable emotion behind it, just the matter-of-fact way Ori views her life.
It is true, she wouldn’t know. She remembers Kagerus as a child remembers things, far more perfect than they truly were. She is sure that the spots are all wrong on the illusion she creates of her mother, that the color of their eyes has been lost to her memory entirely and changes periodically in her memory now. She knows only that the spots belong to Kagerus, and their color belongs to Solace, and that their existence marks her as their child and absolutely nothing more. Yet still, the idea to conceal them never crosses her mind, and even if it did, it is unlikely to do so. After all, what identity does she have but as the prisoner child of two ex-queens?
Oriash
but they forgot that nightmares are dreams too
@[brunhilde]
Use of mild power playing is allowed; no injuries without permission