06-03-2019, 03:46 PM
they promised that dreams can come true
She has never thought of her full name as noble at all, though in some other version of her life she would have been a princess and perhaps she would have preferred Oriash. Princess Oriash. It was a laughable notion to the half-orphan prisoner that she was now. Laughable because she cannot imagine being that girl and she has no interest in being that girl. She would have, perhaps, liked to simply be raised with her family around her, to lose the title of orphan and prisoner. She dreams of it as other children dream of castles and princes, but she doesn’t necessarily want it. After all, who would she have been then?
Not the girl she has become, and it’s hard to imagine being anyone but yourself.
The boy before her smiles, kindly, and she finds herself smiling back. It’s an unpracticed, underused thing on her face, but she tries. It’s strange to her to simply be conversing with another child, to be playing (in a sense, anyway), to be doing something other than being used by adults that won’t clue her in on the details. For this, he seems to quietly nestle into a special place in her heart without trying and without knowing.
“I’m not totally sure,” she admits. “I just think about, and it appears. It’s easy to make it appear, but it’s harder to get smells or solidity and things like that right. You can try touching it, though I’m not sure I’ve mastered that piece.” The deer is solid, but she’s not sure she’s got the feel of its coat quite right or if the muscles will ripple and move as they should. It’s easiest to trick the eye, harder to trick the other senses. She finds herself curious to see what he feels though. She never can quite test for herself, too aware of what she’s creating in those moments to feel anything but failure.
Not the girl she has become, and it’s hard to imagine being anyone but yourself.
The boy before her smiles, kindly, and she finds herself smiling back. It’s an unpracticed, underused thing on her face, but she tries. It’s strange to her to simply be conversing with another child, to be playing (in a sense, anyway), to be doing something other than being used by adults that won’t clue her in on the details. For this, he seems to quietly nestle into a special place in her heart without trying and without knowing.
“I’m not totally sure,” she admits. “I just think about, and it appears. It’s easy to make it appear, but it’s harder to get smells or solidity and things like that right. You can try touching it, though I’m not sure I’ve mastered that piece.” The deer is solid, but she’s not sure she’s got the feel of its coat quite right or if the muscles will ripple and move as they should. It’s easiest to trick the eye, harder to trick the other senses. She finds herself curious to see what he feels though. She never can quite test for herself, too aware of what she’s creating in those moments to feel anything but failure.
Oriash
but they forgot that nightmares are dreams too
