04-16-2019, 02:35 PM
they promised that dreams can come true
He comes in the night like a ghost, spiriting her away. She should scream. She should fight and plead and beg to be left on the black beach of the Cove. Instead, she comes quietly, willingly, her tongue stilled by…well, she’s not sure what. Certainly some small bit of fear, but it’s not the overwhelming feeling. If it were, the black shadows would creep out from her, would surround her, and in truth she suspects she could slip away in the cover of those shadows she doesn’t understand. Curiosity stills her tongue, wondering why he takes her, wondering who this stallion is and why he’s gone to such lengths to snatch her away. Who is she but a worthless little orphan?
Ori doesn’t understand that her parentage still matters, that her parents descension is recent enough history to still make them important and by proxy, to make her important. Important seems to strong a word, she was important only in the grand scheme of politics. No one in the Cove made her feel important or even wanted though. Certainly Dawn had cared enough to make sure she didn’t die, but Dawn was busy with her twins and the twins, though they accepted her, were busy being twins and Ori couldn’t exactly relate to that. Hell, Ori didn’t even know her own siblings, having been left to rot by everyone that should have cared for her.
Maybe that is the true reason she does not protest as they slip through the night and unfamiliar territory. Though she’s old enough now to have reasonable mastery of her legs, she grows tired, stumbling on rocks and roots more than once, scrambling to get back up lest this stallion drag her to her feet. The shadows don’t come, and for once, her mother’s don’t join her either. She’s grown used to their presence, has finally begun to understand that they are figments of her imagination brought to life and not their dream selves, but she still doesn’t understand how. In her limited world, illusionism is a concept far too big. It’s bigger than the powers her mother’s wielded and so, she cannot imagine it is something she can wield.
They are long out of the Cove before she speaks, suspecting that to make a noise too close to home was to invite punishment and pain upon herself. “Why?” she finally asks, voice quiet but not afraid, simply respectful of the hushed stillness of the night around them. It’s an innocent enough question, but so unlikely for a girl who hasn’t even yet seen a year. She should be crying, should be cowering, should be trying to run back home to only safety she knows. Instead, she comes almost willingly, seeking. Seeking what, she does not yet know, but perhaps he would show her just what she didn’t yet know.
Ori doesn’t understand that her parentage still matters, that her parents descension is recent enough history to still make them important and by proxy, to make her important. Important seems to strong a word, she was important only in the grand scheme of politics. No one in the Cove made her feel important or even wanted though. Certainly Dawn had cared enough to make sure she didn’t die, but Dawn was busy with her twins and the twins, though they accepted her, were busy being twins and Ori couldn’t exactly relate to that. Hell, Ori didn’t even know her own siblings, having been left to rot by everyone that should have cared for her.
Maybe that is the true reason she does not protest as they slip through the night and unfamiliar territory. Though she’s old enough now to have reasonable mastery of her legs, she grows tired, stumbling on rocks and roots more than once, scrambling to get back up lest this stallion drag her to her feet. The shadows don’t come, and for once, her mother’s don’t join her either. She’s grown used to their presence, has finally begun to understand that they are figments of her imagination brought to life and not their dream selves, but she still doesn’t understand how. In her limited world, illusionism is a concept far too big. It’s bigger than the powers her mother’s wielded and so, she cannot imagine it is something she can wield.
They are long out of the Cove before she speaks, suspecting that to make a noise too close to home was to invite punishment and pain upon herself. “Why?” she finally asks, voice quiet but not afraid, simply respectful of the hushed stillness of the night around them. It’s an innocent enough question, but so unlikely for a girl who hasn’t even yet seen a year. She should be crying, should be cowering, should be trying to run back home to only safety she knows. Instead, she comes almost willingly, seeking. Seeking what, she does not yet know, but perhaps he would show her just what she didn’t yet know.
Oriash
but they forgot that nightmares are dreams too
@[Castile]