"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
Could you help me push aside all that I have left behind
As comfortable as the forest was starting to become, his is a wandering heart and so he finds himself in need of a change of scenery. The air is far too warm to amble about as a panda and so he is simply himself when he heads towards the meadow today. Although there is freedom in his shifted state, where he can climb the tallest of trees and tumble precariously without hurting himself too much, there is freedom in his natural born state as well. He is a long and lean stallion who had grown into his awkward legginess and despite his natural clumsy behavior when he is clad in ebony and ivory, it’s a different story when he is equine. His movements are light and airy, like a dancers, and it is clear that he is not one made for brute strength but rather that of speed and agility. The irony of his alter-ego had never been lost on him.
This is taken advantage of immediately as he tries to race the sunrise by arriving into the most popular of the common lands before it had even peeked over the mountaintops. The air is slightly muggy despite the sun taking it’s time to settle into the sky, dark clouds colliding in the distance are to blame and a faint scent of rain can be caught on the air. It seems he picked a good day to come, an afternoon shower wouldn’t be amiss.
Breezy fingers rake through his snow-white mane, catching in the tail that flies freely behind him, as he continues his gallop and enjoys the feel of warm winds against his turquoise blazed face. His lilac coat has long since dried from where he had crossed the river and despite his pastel coloring and gold markings, he looks almost ordinary. Warm gold-flecked eyes scan the open fields as he finally comes to a halt, barely out of breath from his sprint and flexing his warmed up muscles as if he might take off again.
It seems the weather is interesting enough today to bring out many faces and there are plenty of others wandering the meadow today. An easy grin spreads across his mouth, pleased at this observation. Maybe he would have some luck today in meeting some new people and possibly finding hints of where his family could be.
Ori has been shaped by many people in her life, though rarely in a good way. All but Pteron, who taught her to embrace the sky and the wings on her back. There is little else in her life that has stuck with her except this. Her family comes and goes, and she would say her friends come and go as well but she’s never really had any of those. Lands come and go, and home, though she has lived in a few places, has only ever been Silver Cove for her, though she has not been back to see it’s shores for so long now. The point being simply that most of Ori’s life has been of a rather transient nature, except for this one lesson.
Oh, she does love to fly. The weather is threatening rain and so, with the morning sky still clear enough, this is where she finds herself. If she would be grounded later, she might as well enjoy some time in the air now. Her flight brings her over the common lands, as it often does, for she finds herself strolling these lands far more than any “home”. From the sky she can see all those belong, often keeping close enough to the earth that they are more than just little dots. She can catch colors and movement, can see who or what might be in the meadow or strolling along the river. She glides along this way, watching as others live a life she’s never fully grasped how to live. Perhaps it is better this way, though it doesn’t feel like it.
Eventually, a stallion moving at a full gallop catches her eye as he races into the meadow. When he comes to a stop she can see him better, a rather handsome stallion, lilac in color with a blue blaze down his face. The idea that he is handsome is not a flirtatious thing for Ori, but rather just the way she sees the world. She paints her own worlds and so she sees beauty in most things, and he is no exception. He is younger, though she cannot tell how many years younger than she is. Honestly, Ori has never stopped feeling like a child, even if her body no longer is one.
It seems that he may be looking for some company though, and he’s caught her attention enough that she lands not too far off, tucking her wings to her side as she does so. She makes her way forward with a friendly nicker and a soft smile. ”Would you care for some company?” she asks, voice soft and pleasant. There’s something almost timid about her, though it’s hard to say exactly what. Perhaps just in the quietness of her, or the seeming aura of a life not lived that hangs around her. And yet her kindness is easy enough to spot in that as well. ”I’m Ori,”, she says, having long since stopped using her full name. Whoever Oriash was meant to be, she became quiet Ori instead.
02-06-2022, 11:05 PM (This post was last modified: 03-01-2022, 10:51 AM by Link.)
Could you help me push aside all that I have left behind
His gaze had only started to wander among the many faces crowding the meadow when somebody takes his full attention by landing close by. He is quick to take in her tan and white coloring, the bold blue leopard spots that look as if a painter had flicked his brush against her body like a canvas, the wings that are folding along her sides. His gaze lingers on her impressive antlers, immediately infatuated with them. He was coming across a variety of horses in his travels now but she was the first he had ever seen of her kind and he is instantly caught up in his own curiosity.
Surely she is here to meet someone more interesting than himself but surprisingly, she starts to move towards him and the friendly nicker she offers is quickly followed by a greeting of his own. His grin widens, still loose and friendly. “Of course! Please… Join me.” He says, visibly pleased to be making yet another new acquaintance. There is something about her, more than just her incredible antlers, that makes him want to know more about her. Something in the soft-spoken tone of her voice, the subtle hesitance that doesn’t seem to match with the physical aesthetic she wears. ”Ori”, She introduces. “I’m Link, it’s nice to meet you.”, comes his genuine and polite reply. Mom would be proud, he hopes.
He suddenly seems uncertain of how to proceed. As the panda, conversation seemed easier when he was falling off rock ledges or tumbling out of trees. His shifted state always seemed to be a natural icebreaker. In this body, he suddenly feels uncertain what to say. What about him had drawn her to talk to him? It’s the question he really wants to ask but it suddenly feels too bold and personal when they had only just met. So he tries a different approach, a sheepish smile quickly following his attempt at being engaging. “Do you come here often?” An inward groan begins to ring in his head and tighten in his gut, realizing just how lame that must sound. “I’ve been living in the forest but figured I’d try to change it up today.” He tries to amend, the groaning in his head and stomach intensifying.
Mom would be proud. She’d tell him this (if she could read minds) even without knowing his mother, but he is friendly and polite and she relaxes slightly. Making friends has never been Ori’s strong suit. She has met others, but more often they come up to her, and she has never been particularly good at keeping up with acquaintances and so they never become anything more. Only Petron had been an exception, perhaps Castile just slightly though she cannot call him a friend. He was a captor and the closest thing she’d had to a family growing up. No wonder her ability to maintain relationships is questionable at best.
If only she could read minds though. It might set them both at ease to know that small talk is not their strong suit. Funny really, given that she was the one that came up to him, though she will always break the ice by asking strangers to tell her a story. She paints that story for them, and they can spend some time somewhere else and the awkwardness fades away. His slightly awkward questions don’t bother her though, but rather put her at ease even more, and the hestiance she’d shown before begins to slip away.
”I do, though I’m often in the sky, she says, nodding up slightly, indicating the place where she had just come from. She is a land dweller, certainly, but there’s something safe about being up in the sky. It doesn’t make her feel so terrible, really, to be alone up there. It’s a place where it feels like one is supposed to be alone. ”The meadow is a good place to spend some time though. It’s usually quite pretty here.” She pauses, not minding the small talk that comes easier now as they begin. ”Do you have family in the forest?” she asks, finding it a slightly unusual place to grow up for a young stallion and yet, there is a reserved empathy in her voice. After all, she’d grown up without a family, and so she understands that pain well, but it’s entirely possible his parents simply didn’t want to live in one of the lands. She doesn’t want to assume that they are alike here.
Could you help me push aside all that I have left behind
Being friendly came as naturally as breathing to the young lilac stallion, which was amusing in hindsight as he hadn’t had many friends growing up. It wasn’t from lack of effort, he had stolen away from his sheltered life in both Loess and Sylva often enough on his own in childhood. Yet the thrill of being on his own had been a main distraction, having been part of such a close knit family made adventures alone all the more exciting. Besides… It was his twin whose company he had preferred amongst all others. In Lillibet he had a ready made best friend who knew him better then he sometimes knew himself.
Being forced away from her, from all of them, had pushed him to seek out new faces and friendships now that loneliness was his recent constant companion.
Small talk makes him feel as clumsy as he sometimes is as the panda but despite his awkward starts she doesn’t seem to be put off. In fact, something in her seems to release which makes his own body loosen in response, his sheepish grin turning into something more easy-going. She speaks of spending most of her time in the sky and he looks up in reflection, the flecks of gold in his warm brown eyes catching in the sunlight. Once more he notes the approaching dark clouds in the distance and wonders what it must be like to fly through rain-drenched clouds.
He thinks he understands why she prefers it up there for the same reason he loves climbing up in the tallest trees for an afternoon nap. A different view, a new perspective. Something freeing in being up high when others are trapped below. Her question about his family brings his wandering gaze back to her and his smile slightly falters as he thinks of those that mean the world to him. The home that was lost and the family that is missing. “No.” He says, not unkindly. “I was born in Loess along with my twin sister, Lillibet. Our mother was Queen there until she stepped down and we all moved to Sylva with my dad.” His hooves shuffle beneath him and he looks down at the moved earth, uncomfortable with his own sadness. “I haven’t been able to find them since… you know.” He assumes everyone knows by now.
“Maybe you’ve seen them?” He glances up at her hopefully and describes first his sister, then Oceane, and last Ledger. “Dad can turn into a polar bear and he’s a strong swimmer… He use to live here and I thought maybe…” He gives a small shrug and flashes her a brilliant smile, trying his best to not submerge underneath darker thoughts. It just wasn’t his way and deflecting seemed the easiest choice in dealing with unfamiliar and unwanted thoughts. “What about you, where are you from?”
She understands loneliness. It is her constant companion as well, and she has never really imagined a world where it is not. There have been friends in her life, to some degree or another, but the truth is that she’s hardly lived a life at all. There are periods where things go well, even a brief period where she was granted time with her family and a chance to get to know some of them. But good things in Ori’s life are fleeting at best, though at least, there are rarely bad things either. No, instead, Ori just finds that she exists, floating through the days with an aimlessness that does her no good. But what else should she do?
Maybe it is why she loves the sky. It is a friend, in its way, even when the world below is not. It’s a quiet friend, for she has no way to speak to the sky or the birds that call it home, but still, she feels welcomed like a child come home, feels embraced by the clouds and loved by the sun, and so she spends more and more time there.
His answer is honest and sad though, and it breaks her heart for it’s a pain she knows all too well. A lost home, a lost family. It’s a story that is far too common, and one that she wishes hadn’t shaped her so. Without thinking, she takes a step forward and reaches out to offer her nose, a gentle brush against his own in reassurance (if he’ll allow it), though she steps back after the moment has passed. “I’m sorry,” she says simply, with a depth of feeling so real that it’s clear she means it. “I haven’t seen them, but I met your mother when I was still a girl. I would recognize her if I saw her again.” She would look for her. Her vantage point from above was certainly useful for such a task.
He seems to rally himself well enough, asking where she is from, though the story is no less tragic in its way. ”I was born in Silver Cove, where my mothers ruled as well. Though no long after Solace became sick, and she and Kagerus entered a dream state. I couldn’t tell you where my siblings were, but for a time, it was just me.” She paints a picture he can see. The meadow beneath them turns to the black sand beaches of the Cove, a young girl laying on the beach where the water meets the sand. There is no mistaking Oriash the child as she lays there until Castile finds her there, and she follows easily enough. “I was stolen to Loess, though I cannot say I fought. There was nothing to keep me in the Cove, though I will always miss those beaches. I grew up in Loess, where I met your mother actually, before she was Queen.”
The scene shifts, the black sand beaches giving way to the rocky hills of Loess. Ori grows before their eyes, and Ocean materializes. Ori’s not quite sure she has every detail of his mother correct, but she cannot forget that beautiful mare even if her memory is slightly imperfect. The pictures fade, and they are left in the meadow again. “Eventually I found some of my family again and moved to Tephra with them, though no place has ever really been home since the Cove. It’s not the same anymore though, so I stay in the common lands and the sky.” Perhaps the sky was her home now, for it certainly had never truly been anywhere on land.
03-15-2022, 02:36 PM (This post was last modified: 03-15-2022, 02:41 PM by Link.)
Could you help me push aside all that I have left behind
Physical touch is not an unwelcome thing when it comes to him and he does not see her as an invader in his personal space. Being forced to expand his small circle of family to something wider, he accepts her brush of comfort and brings his muzzle to linger for a moment with her own. Despite not knowing her well on the account of just meeting, he appreciates her kindness and recognizes the tone of her voice as someone who knows exactly what he feels. There is no doubt that she means what she says. "Thank you." He offers quietly and means that as well.
His disappointment is evident when she mentions not having seen them but it’s swallowed down by the interest that follows when she speaks of knowing his mother. There are many questions that follow but he keeps them to himself. Instead, he watches with growing curiosity as she begins to tell him the story of her own upbringing. Not just tell him, she shows him. He is fascinated as the meadow turns into a place he has never seen before. Silver Cove is familiar to him only in name, he knows every land in Beqanna and where it should be if he was to see a map but the place itself is only something he had imagined. Seeing it spread before him is a wild thing, seeing her as a child is even more captivating.
He watches the stallion Castile (someone he’s only heard about in history lessons but had never seen before) lead her away. Then the scenery changes to one he knows very well. A pang of emotion curls around his heart as he searches the familiar canyons, dry instead of soaked in seawater, and he smiles at the grown Oriash before him. It falters when his mother appears beside her.
It had been so long since he had seen her and even if Oriash’s memory isn’t perfect… There is no mistaking her. She is younger here in this memory, without the genie adornments or extra wings, but he would know her anywhere. The young stallion reaches out to her, this figment of his companion’s mind, as she begins to fade before his eyes. He wants to cry out, to hold on to Oceane before she disappears again forever, but he doesn’t. Instead, he brings his muzzle back to his chest as his heart stutters painfully in his chest with grief.
He barely hears what she says as the Meadow comes back into view. It registers somewhere, Tephra and not feeling as if she belonged anywhere after the Cove. Yet he can’t shake the image of his mother from his mind. “What was she like?” He finally manages, still gazing to where she had once stood. “My mother? When she was young?” A pause. “And how did you do that anyways? How do you paint pictures like that?”
Perhaps she should not have shown him his mother. It’s hard to know if that’s something that would be better or worse for them, though certainly she could have thought to ask. It’s hard to miss the way he reaches out for her, and her own heart breaks knowing what it’s like. As a child, her mothers plagued her. They followed her around, always at a distance, always out of reach. Long before she knew how to control her power to create worlds, she created her nightmares without meaning to. Having them so near and yet so far had been torture and comfort all at once. It had reminded her of all the things she would never truly have, and yet…and yet it was better than nothing at all.
He asks about her though, and as the world around them turns back into the meadow, Ori smiles at the question. ”She was new to Beqanna when I met her. Full of questions and curiosity and a hunger for more. And so beautiful, as I’m sure you know.” How could anyone forget a mare like Oceane? It had been so long, but Ori could not forget her. Could not forget that on some level, she would love to figure out how to be like Oceane, to be more, to be driven and curious and alive.
At his next question, she smiles a bit wider. This, this is something she knows. Painting, creating - these have been her outlets for so long now. If anything in her life defined her, it was this skill. “I’m an illusionist,” she says by way of explanation. The air around them is still, but she conjures a breeze anyway. In truth, there is no breeze at all, but she can play with the senses enough to make it feel like there’s wind against his skin. In this case, she doesn’t change the sight to go with it, so none of his hair will move, in order to illustrate the point. ”There’s lots I can do, but I’ve always preferred to paint. Describe something to me,” she says, an invitation to see whatever he wanted brought to life around him.
could you help me push aside all that I have left behind?
It is hard to imagine his mother as being someone uncertain and new to this world, not when he had only ever known her as a stalwart figure. A queen, a mother, a faithful counterpart to his father. When Oriash speaks on her memories of her, it stirs his melancholy but also makes him smile. For the girl she describes doesn’t bring Oceane to mind but that of his twin. Lillibet was all those things and then some. Beautiful, curious, fearless, always wanting more. It pleases him to think of telling her this someday, makes the flame of hope reignite in his chest because he needs to be able to share this with her.
He is openly curious when she speaks of being an illusionist, having never heard of one before. Despite the weight of his mourning and longing, he finds himself smiling with delight at the way a breeze suddenly brushes against his skin and yet no trees move nor does his mane suddenly become windswept. “Incredible.” He breathes, looking at her with appreciation. “It seems I will never stop being impressed by all the talents in this world.” He says with a soft laugh and means it. No matter where he turns, he keeps running into the most interesting of creatures. Some might be jealous of the level of skill they hold when he was just a simple bear shifter, but he is content in his own fur. It had never bothered him like it had with Lil.
The offer to paint something of his own creation is an overwhelming thought. What comes to mind, of course, is to see his entire family again. Ledger, Lillibet, and Oceane. All together, whole. However that might be too hard to see and he also does not want to chase away or depress his newfound friend. Instead, he tries to think of something more creative filled with things he had always wanted to see. “Can you paint a volcano by that creek? Like the one in Tephra? I’ve always wanted to see it! Oh… and maybe Hyaline’s lake over there. But filled with ducks. Like… a lot of ducks. And can you paint the sky gold? And make the grass blue?” He suddenly stops, shaking his head and looking rather sheepish. “I ask for too much. What do you love to paint most? I would like to see that.”
They are all uncertain and new at one point, even if they pretend not to be. It’s just a fact of life that they are all new. Sometimes that newness is simply youth, and sometimes it’s from a life change or a move. The question is whether they ever grow out of it or not. Ori certainly isn’t new anymore. Not to life, not to Beqanna. Her problem is instead that she’s never figured out how to outgrow the uncertainty. Maybe she never will.
She doesn’t know many illusionists either. It’s not a common trait, at least so far as she can find. Though the swath of powers in Beqanna is great and vast, she feels somewhat unique and, in this, isolated but also proud. It is a trait that Ori is particularly fond of, but of course, it is hers. There’s something a little special about feeling like she’s not just like everyone else, even if that was true of just about everyone in Beqanna (except for all the dragons…). ”Me either,” she agrees with a smile. The world was vast and beautiful in it’s own right, even without her creating new ones on top of it.
He begins to describe things to her, and her smile widens. When he says it’s too much, she simply shakes her head and begins. Once, it would have been too much, but Ori has had time enough to learn her skill well, and she is good at it now. A power that once haunted her, that once controlled her, now allows her to control the world instead. The volcano is first, growing out of the ground with a rumble and the sensation of vibrations beneath their feet. Hyaline’s lake is less familiar to her, but she tries based on what she knows, and something vaguely like it appears in the place he had indicated, though it might not be so exact. It is filled with ducks though, and they splash and quack happily in the clear blue water. The sky above them shimmers and shifts as she overlays gold glitter on the sky. It could be entirely gold, but in this, she adds her own touch, figuring he won’t mind. The grass beneath them turns blue, starting from the root and working it’s way up, though she leaves the tips of each blade green simply because she can.
Her smile is wide and her eyes are alight. This is Ori. This is the only version of her that knows how to live as she gets to make the world into anything. In some ways, it helps her remember that they world they live in is beautiful and magnificent, but it reminds her as well that things don’t have to stay the way they are. Nearby she paints her deer friends, which are so often seen near her. They come to her now without much effort, their ears pricked in the direction of Link and Ori, their eyes bright and alert. In the blue grass large flowers of all colors spring to life, dancing in an invisible wind.
The effort looks great, though because it is only herself and Link that see the changes, it is not so great as it might appear. Her magic gets harder with more viewers, though still, the concentration required to hold the illusion makes it difficult for her to have a conversation at the same time. There are so many pieces of it, but for a long moment, the world looks as they have dreamed and she allows them to revel in it before the world around them blinks back into its usual existence. ”Not too much at all. I love to paint,” she says with a smile, using her word for the illusions. That’s what it feels like after all - painting.
