Oriash
they promised that dreams can come true
Desperate to help is probably not quite an accurate way to describe Ori. Rather, she’s just desperate to do something. Helping seems easier than going off to fight a war or whatever, so usually she finds herself helping. It is either that or she tends to find herself lost in illusions, the world changing in subtle ways around her without her really noticing. The deer that follows her around on occasion, flowers that bloom, light that shifts and sparkles. She is never quite sure exactly what the world looks like to everyone else in Ori’s absence, though in her presence they will see the world as she does.
Helping gives her something to focus on, gives her some semblance of grounding. It occupies her brain. She is not desperate to help, but she is desperate for what it gives her sometimes. This particular mares seems a prickly sort though, and Ori finds herself vaguely regretting deciding to be nice. Still, the response is nice enough. Lucky for the brightly colored, finned mare, Ori doesn’t really do small talk. They might get along on this front. “Ah,” she says, just a soft acknowledgment of the mare’s comment around the fairies with no further expectations attached to it.
The mare asks for water, which is not surprising. “Not far,” she offers, nodding in the direction of the north. One of the larger lakes, situated toward the north-eastern side of Loess was not too far off. Noting how the mare’s wings droop low toward the ground, Ori doesn’t suggest they fly. Instead she moves off at an easy walk toward the nearby lake. She wonders, briefly, as they walk exactly how the mare ended up in the middle of Loess after a trip to the fairies, but that seems like a topic best left alone.
“Where do you live, normally?” she asks, though it’s the only question she asks as they walk, not attempting to fill the space but merely curious how far away from home this mare actually was. Ori has delivered others to their doorsteps before, though she doubted Rebelle would need an escort, but rather just a nod in the right direction. “I’m Ori, by the way” she adds, cresting over a slight hill to reveal a rather large lake. It would be anything but warm this time of year, but she suspected that was not the sort of thing that bothered a mare made for the sea.
but they forgot that nightmares are dreams too.
@[Rebelle]
Use of mild power playing is allowed; no injuries without permission