they promised that dreams can come true
She’s know for a while that she wants to stay, though she’s done little about it. Her sentence, she thinks, it probably up by now or close enough, but she’s stopped bothering with keeping track of the time as it passes. Silver Cove is not home, was never home, and she had no desire to return to her birthplace, no desire to live within the shadow of the place where her mothers had abandoned her. The sting of it is less now, time softening the raw edges, the return of Solace changing her growing mind anyway. She blamed Solace, sick as she had been, far less than she blames Kagerus anyway. Kagerus did not have to go, Solace did.
Still, it doesn’t seem to matter much to her anymore. Illusions of her mother’s plague her less and less, though the illusions are still relatively uncontrolled. She can control them, when she chooses, but when her mind is elsewhere they simply appear and disappear, the world changing around her at her whim. It seems likely her power may always be this way, shaped to the fancies of a girl who had no dreams of sunshine and rainbows, though she painted them from time to time.
She doesn’t seek anyone is particular today, but it seems as if she ought to get to know the others in order to decide if this truly is her home. Maybe not a forever home, but a for now home. At this point she knows only Castile and Petron, both of whom she liked, and she vaguely knew other faces from the burning maze though that had hardly been a time for getting to know someone.
She wanders aimlessly, her shadow creeping along beneath her with a strange mind of its own. It doesn’t quite follow her, slipping about as if scouting ahead and behind, though she cannot actually see anything that it may encounter. No, it’s simply a trick, practice as she walks, to see how much she can control the illusion on the ground. It is particularly difficult, keeping the somewhat transparent nature of it in tract, making sure that the landscape behind it is still accurate. There are moments she screws it up, but she keeps at it, working to master the technique.
Still, it doesn’t seem to matter much to her anymore. Illusions of her mother’s plague her less and less, though the illusions are still relatively uncontrolled. She can control them, when she chooses, but when her mind is elsewhere they simply appear and disappear, the world changing around her at her whim. It seems likely her power may always be this way, shaped to the fancies of a girl who had no dreams of sunshine and rainbows, though she painted them from time to time.
She doesn’t seek anyone is particular today, but it seems as if she ought to get to know the others in order to decide if this truly is her home. Maybe not a forever home, but a for now home. At this point she knows only Castile and Petron, both of whom she liked, and she vaguely knew other faces from the burning maze though that had hardly been a time for getting to know someone.
She wanders aimlessly, her shadow creeping along beneath her with a strange mind of its own. It doesn’t quite follow her, slipping about as if scouting ahead and behind, though she cannot actually see anything that it may encounter. No, it’s simply a trick, practice as she walks, to see how much she can control the illusion on the ground. It is particularly difficult, keeping the somewhat transparent nature of it in tract, making sure that the landscape behind it is still accurate. There are moments she screws it up, but she keeps at it, working to master the technique.
Oriash
but they forgot that nightmares are dreams too
@[brunhilde] I have this lovely open post I forgot about if you want to reply here maybe?