Oriash
they promised that dreams can come true
She would never know what it’s like to startle a sibling. There’s only one she’s ever met and he was like her, made of dreams and illusions and unreality. There were no tricks she could play on him, and he wasn’t the tricking type anyway. The rest were strangers to her, phantoms that Aegan had conjured so she could at least see her family once. It was the closet she would ever come to having a true family, to knowing what it is like to play with siblings, to sneak up on them at the end of a ghost story.
She’d say she misses it, but it’s hard to miss something you’ve never known. Instead, the truer thing would be to say she longs for the experience, wonders what it would have been like to grow up at the youngest in a gaggle of siblings, with her parents around or even perhaps still on the throne. Being a princess was not the goal, but knowing where to find her parents, tethered by a crown, would have been a joy.
There is a shuffling noise around her, but it simply sounds like the wind in the trees and she pays it no mind. Ori is not a trained warrior (though perhaps she could be), and she has no mind for sneaking. The loud stomps vibrates in her bones and she reacts as any prey animal, four feet leaving the ground as she leaps sideways and halfway around. Instinct takes over and she throws up an illusion, a monstrous shadow made of claws and teeth and impossible size, blocking her from view.
It is not unlike the monster that Darkling had surprised her with no longer ago. What is it with boys and surprises? Though she’d been amused them and she is now, once she realizes it is only Pteron behind her. Her heart slows slightly, and the illusion disappears, and there’s a grin on her face that betrays her, “Well that’s one way to greet a friend,” she says with whatever sass she can muster, which in this moment is not much.
He tells her she is early, which admittedly she knows but the trees of Sylva beckoned (and perhaps the lure of her friend) and so she’d found herself here regardless. “You’ve unleashed a monster in encouraging me to fly, Pteron,” she says, still with a grin on her face. There are so few friends in her life and she loves the ease that comes with his company.
The grin fades when her eyes land on the scar though, a fresh pink thing stark against his white coat. Ori takes a step forward, reaching out her muzzle as if to touch the scar before thinking better of it and withdrawing. “What happened?” It is both a question and a demand, the sort of question that doesn’t allow room not to be answered. Sometimes she doesn’t pry, but she cares too much for her only true friend not to know what’s been going on in his life, not to know what or who did such a thing to him.
but they forgot that nightmares are dreams too.
@[Pteron]
Use of mild power playing is allowed; no injuries without permission