<link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Alex+Brush|Poiret+One" rel="stylesheet"><style type="text/css">.oriash_loweredhorns_background{position:relative;z-index:1;width:550px;background:#112331;padding: 15px;border-radius: 50px;box-shadow: 0 0 10px #000;border:1px solid #000;}.oriash_loweredhorns_container{position:relative;z-index:2;width:550px;background:#040309;font:12px 'Times New Roman', serif;border-radius: 50px;box-shadow: 0 0 10px #000;border:1px solid #000;}.oriash_loweredhorns_container p{margin:0;}.oriash_loweredhorns_gradient {position: absolute;z-index: 5;top: 270px;width: 550px;height: 100px;background: -moz-linear-gradient(top, rgba(11,27,27,0) 0%, rgba(4,3,9,1) 100%);background: -webkit-linear-gradient(top, rgba(11,27,27,0) 0%,rgba(4,3,9,1) 100%);background: linear-gradient(to bottom, rgba(11,27,27,0) 0%,rgba(4,3,9,1) 100%);filter: progid
XImageTransform.Microsoft.gradient( startColorstr='#000b1b1b', endColorstr='#040309',GradientType=0 );}.oriash_loweredhorns_message {position: relative;z-index: 10;width: 450px;top: 10px;text-align: justify;padding: 20;color: #415971;border-top: 2px solid #112331;}.oriash_loweredhorns_quote {position: relative;z-index: 10;color: rgba(217, 231, 242, 0.6);font: 12px 'Poiret One', sans-serif;letter-spacing: 2px;text-align: center;padding-top: 20px;padding-bottom: 20px;}.oriash_loweredhorns_name {position: absolute;top: 325px;z-index: 15;right: 175px;bottom: 60px;color: #112331;text-shadow: 0 0 5px #C1C2C4;font: 70px 'Alex Brush', cursive;letter-spacing: 2px;}</style><center><div class="oriash_loweredhorns_background"><div class="oriash_loweredhorns_container"><img style="width:550px;border-radius: 50px 50px 0 0;" src="https://k.nickpic.host/bztFVD.jpg"><div class="oriash_loweredhorns_gradient"></div><p class="oriash_loweredhorns_name">Oriash</p><div class="oriash_loweredhorns_message"><p class="oriash_loweredhorns_quote" style="margin-top:-10px;">they promised that dreams can come true</p><p>She could understand, in some small way, how Eurwen was feeling. Not that she can read minds, and not that she knows now, but if the mare had put it into words she could empathize. Not with the why but the what, with that feeling of drifting and eating and living without really knowing how you did it. Her childhood had been days of such, of simply drifting, of losing all sense of life, of reality. She’d get lost in some other world and never quite know which world was real and which was the dream, never quite certain where one place ended and the places of her mind began.
She had stayed, stuck, in Loess until Pteron had freed her. Ori has no idea that the same opportunity stands before her now, that perhaps she can pay back the kindness that had been shown to her.
Perhaps. If only she is capable, and that’s a test she has never before faced.
Ori cannot fathom what is like to see horrors as a child. Her life, though she was a forgotten pawn and little more, and had not been a bad one. She’d been sheltered enough in the Cove, though the memory of the parents that deserted her and their silent presence behind that bush always haunted her. Then, even stolen away, she was sheltered and protected and found that she just stayed. Castile spoke to her kindly enough, as much as the dragon king could muster, and she expected and needed no more kindness than that.
It was a quite life, but it was not a bad life. It was not filled with monsters and death, but paints of worlds that her mind could create. Sometimes she changed Loess in small ways, and other times she simply changed the world around her, living out her own fairy-tales. Her only monsters were the illusions of her mothers, ghosts that did not leave her. Even now, when the illusions don’t come unbidden, still Kagerus haunts her. Ori made her peace with Solace, but Kagerus? Solace had been sick and needed rest, Solace had come to find her as soon as she was able, Solace had cared.
Kagerus though? Ori didn’t think her mother cared.
Her face darkens as the other begins by identifying her as Kagerus’s child. Shadows creep around from around her, as they often do with her darker moods, though she tries to call them back quickly. A few tendrils escape her, illusions, but illusions are real enough. <font color=#a1abb5> “Yes,”</font> she says flatly. She should be used to this, but still, being known only as the daughter of someone else was beginning to grate on her. Ori was herself and she wanted to be known only for that.
The mare finally meets her eyes and Ori does her best to soften, just slightly, seeing something darker still in the mare. Could she blame her, really, for seeing anything but her mother in the daughter that looked so much like both of them? She was each of them, rolled into one. But unlike her mother she did not manipulate the land of sleep, but the land of the awake, and she had power here that her mother did not. <font color=#a1abb5> "Who are you?"</font>
</p></div><p class="oriash_loweredhorns_quote">but they forgot that nightmares are dreams too.</p></div></div></center>
@[Eurwen]
XImageTransform.Microsoft.gradient( startColorstr='#000b1b1b', endColorstr='#040309',GradientType=0 );}.oriash_loweredhorns_message {position: relative;z-index: 10;width: 450px;top: 10px;text-align: justify;padding: 20;color: #415971;border-top: 2px solid #112331;}.oriash_loweredhorns_quote {position: relative;z-index: 10;color: rgba(217, 231, 242, 0.6);font: 12px 'Poiret One', sans-serif;letter-spacing: 2px;text-align: center;padding-top: 20px;padding-bottom: 20px;}.oriash_loweredhorns_name {position: absolute;top: 325px;z-index: 15;right: 175px;bottom: 60px;color: #112331;text-shadow: 0 0 5px #C1C2C4;font: 70px 'Alex Brush', cursive;letter-spacing: 2px;}</style><center><div class="oriash_loweredhorns_background"><div class="oriash_loweredhorns_container"><img style="width:550px;border-radius: 50px 50px 0 0;" src="https://k.nickpic.host/bztFVD.jpg"><div class="oriash_loweredhorns_gradient"></div><p class="oriash_loweredhorns_name">Oriash</p><div class="oriash_loweredhorns_message"><p class="oriash_loweredhorns_quote" style="margin-top:-10px;">they promised that dreams can come true</p><p>She could understand, in some small way, how Eurwen was feeling. Not that she can read minds, and not that she knows now, but if the mare had put it into words she could empathize. Not with the why but the what, with that feeling of drifting and eating and living without really knowing how you did it. Her childhood had been days of such, of simply drifting, of losing all sense of life, of reality. She’d get lost in some other world and never quite know which world was real and which was the dream, never quite certain where one place ended and the places of her mind began. She had stayed, stuck, in Loess until Pteron had freed her. Ori has no idea that the same opportunity stands before her now, that perhaps she can pay back the kindness that had been shown to her.
Perhaps. If only she is capable, and that’s a test she has never before faced.
Ori cannot fathom what is like to see horrors as a child. Her life, though she was a forgotten pawn and little more, and had not been a bad one. She’d been sheltered enough in the Cove, though the memory of the parents that deserted her and their silent presence behind that bush always haunted her. Then, even stolen away, she was sheltered and protected and found that she just stayed. Castile spoke to her kindly enough, as much as the dragon king could muster, and she expected and needed no more kindness than that.
It was a quite life, but it was not a bad life. It was not filled with monsters and death, but paints of worlds that her mind could create. Sometimes she changed Loess in small ways, and other times she simply changed the world around her, living out her own fairy-tales. Her only monsters were the illusions of her mothers, ghosts that did not leave her. Even now, when the illusions don’t come unbidden, still Kagerus haunts her. Ori made her peace with Solace, but Kagerus? Solace had been sick and needed rest, Solace had come to find her as soon as she was able, Solace had cared.
Kagerus though? Ori didn’t think her mother cared.
Her face darkens as the other begins by identifying her as Kagerus’s child. Shadows creep around from around her, as they often do with her darker moods, though she tries to call them back quickly. A few tendrils escape her, illusions, but illusions are real enough. <font color=#a1abb5> “Yes,”</font> she says flatly. She should be used to this, but still, being known only as the daughter of someone else was beginning to grate on her. Ori was herself and she wanted to be known only for that.
The mare finally meets her eyes and Ori does her best to soften, just slightly, seeing something darker still in the mare. Could she blame her, really, for seeing anything but her mother in the daughter that looked so much like both of them? She was each of them, rolled into one. But unlike her mother she did not manipulate the land of sleep, but the land of the awake, and she had power here that her mother did not. <font color=#a1abb5> "Who are you?"</font>
</p></div><p class="oriash_loweredhorns_quote">but they forgot that nightmares are dreams too.</p></div></div></center>
@[Eurwen]
Use of mild power playing is allowed; no injuries without permission