05-23-2019, 10:43 AM
they promised that dreams can come true
Oriash.
Ori doesn’t correct her, as she corrects so many others, having taken to simply telling everyone to call her Ori. It was shorter, simpler, and less painful in a way. Her mothers had given her the name Oriash, and though she did not desire to change it, she desired to make it her own, to disentangle herself from the painful memory of their abandonment. It is too harsh a word, she knows, because she knows the reasons but to a tiny little girl the reasons don’t matter. In the end, she was left alone without a soul or a clue and she sat on that damn beach until Dawn found her or otherwise the ocean might have swallowed her.
They stand like strangers, but Ori doesn’t move because she doesn’t know what she wants. Some part of her simply wants to run to her mother and crash into her, to sob like a little girl should when she finally gets the family that she dreamed of. Her feet don’t move though, her whole body rooted to the spot because she was something else now – she was Solace’s daughter but she was more than that too, shaped by the childhood she was forced to live. It felt suddenly like two pieces of her warred within, and so she paralyzed by indecision.
Her mother closes the distance, and Ori lets her, basking in the warmth of her disheveled but real – so real – mother. Ori’s illusions had some substance to them, when she tried, but she was too aware of them when she made them substantive to really take any pleasure in it. She couldn’t replicate a hug from her own mother, and in truth, she had never wanted to. It is only through the contact, through the sound of her mother’s beating heart, that she knows this is not a cruel illusion. Her mother is here.
After a moment, she steps back though, unable to stay in that embrace. She looks up to her mother, almost sorrowful. “I’m not going back to the Cove,” she says, neither accepting or denying her mother in that statement. She wanted both. She wanted the life she was on and she wanted her mother, but she couldn’t become the little girl she might have been in different circumstances. She couldn’t go backward.
The truth hangs there for a moment. It’s a truth Ori has known for a while, though she hasn’t voiced it. Technically she’s still a prisoner in Loess, but she doesn’t feel like one, isn’t treated like one, and right now, she has no interest in leaving the place that had stolen her away and given her hope when she’d had none. The silence drags too long before she finally speaks again. “I want to see you, though.” It is not quite forgiveness, but perhaps understanding or something close to it.
They could not go back, but perhaps they could go forward.
Ori doesn’t correct her, as she corrects so many others, having taken to simply telling everyone to call her Ori. It was shorter, simpler, and less painful in a way. Her mothers had given her the name Oriash, and though she did not desire to change it, she desired to make it her own, to disentangle herself from the painful memory of their abandonment. It is too harsh a word, she knows, because she knows the reasons but to a tiny little girl the reasons don’t matter. In the end, she was left alone without a soul or a clue and she sat on that damn beach until Dawn found her or otherwise the ocean might have swallowed her.
They stand like strangers, but Ori doesn’t move because she doesn’t know what she wants. Some part of her simply wants to run to her mother and crash into her, to sob like a little girl should when she finally gets the family that she dreamed of. Her feet don’t move though, her whole body rooted to the spot because she was something else now – she was Solace’s daughter but she was more than that too, shaped by the childhood she was forced to live. It felt suddenly like two pieces of her warred within, and so she paralyzed by indecision.
Her mother closes the distance, and Ori lets her, basking in the warmth of her disheveled but real – so real – mother. Ori’s illusions had some substance to them, when she tried, but she was too aware of them when she made them substantive to really take any pleasure in it. She couldn’t replicate a hug from her own mother, and in truth, she had never wanted to. It is only through the contact, through the sound of her mother’s beating heart, that she knows this is not a cruel illusion. Her mother is here.
After a moment, she steps back though, unable to stay in that embrace. She looks up to her mother, almost sorrowful. “I’m not going back to the Cove,” she says, neither accepting or denying her mother in that statement. She wanted both. She wanted the life she was on and she wanted her mother, but she couldn’t become the little girl she might have been in different circumstances. She couldn’t go backward.
The truth hangs there for a moment. It’s a truth Ori has known for a while, though she hasn’t voiced it. Technically she’s still a prisoner in Loess, but she doesn’t feel like one, isn’t treated like one, and right now, she has no interest in leaving the place that had stolen her away and given her hope when she’d had none. The silence drags too long before she finally speaks again. “I want to see you, though.” It is not quite forgiveness, but perhaps understanding or something close to it.
They could not go back, but perhaps they could go forward.
Oriash
but they forgot that nightmares are dreams too
@[Solace] ...i love this