05-15-2019, 12:26 PM
they promised that dreams can come true
This is real. She knows it instantly, which is strange for her, the line between reality and illusion so easily blurred for her. This though, she can feel the wrongness of magic just as she can feel the wrongness of her own illusions. The ground trembles even though it shouldn’t, and soon brambles and vines and all manner of wicked things are shooting from the ground. Ori takes to the sky, a thing she does infrequently but she is at least capable of flight. In the air she’s unsteady and graceless, and if she wasn’t so stunned by the maze growing beneath her she might have make a mental note to practice flying more.
Instead, she is paralyzed, watching the first place she’d grown to like as it’s swallowed by magic that twists something so beautiful into something ugly and wrong. It is no better than the power she weilds, a power of trickery and deceit. This was more than that, but it was power that pretended to be for the better good when it wasn’t. She may be young, but even she is not naïve. The voice demands the release of prisoners, and Ori is looking for the source about to yell back that maybe the prisoners like it here, but the magician is already gone.
Coward.
The word comes to her unbidden, but it tastes like truth. A coward magician, who leaves innocents to suffer, and for what? Her thoughts are pulled away though by a scream, by a commotion of a boy trapped in the vines, another on the ground, and two mares beside them. Mothers and their children? The sight stops her in her tracks, wondering if that was her, would anyone come to save her? Would anyone care? She doesn’t dwell on it though, on the understanding that likely no one would help her, that she would be on her own as she has always been on her own. At least these boys don’t have to be alone.
They are powerless to help their children, but they are there. Ori too is powerless to do anything but paint them a picture of what they wish for, but in this instance, what good would that do? None. It would only hurt them more, and they needed no more hurt. Not now. Still, Ori finds herself landing beside them. Her antlers have been growing in leaps and bounds lately, and not all of the plants have been hardened through, only some. She can’t help the boy on the ground, but she looks to the mare who must be the boy in the wall’s mother (Ori knows no names) and gestures with the antlers on her head, offering help.
She has been growing in leaps and bounds lately, her antlers as well. Though she’s still clearly a child, perhaps she can help. Meticulously, Ori sticks an antler into the brush and pulls, targeting the vines and brambles that the thinnest and not hardened. It’s slow work, too slow, really, but in the absence of anything better she keeps working, hoping that either she can break enough of the small bits to help him get free, or that someone with better suited to such a rescue mission will come along, and quick.
Instead, she is paralyzed, watching the first place she’d grown to like as it’s swallowed by magic that twists something so beautiful into something ugly and wrong. It is no better than the power she weilds, a power of trickery and deceit. This was more than that, but it was power that pretended to be for the better good when it wasn’t. She may be young, but even she is not naïve. The voice demands the release of prisoners, and Ori is looking for the source about to yell back that maybe the prisoners like it here, but the magician is already gone.
Coward.
The word comes to her unbidden, but it tastes like truth. A coward magician, who leaves innocents to suffer, and for what? Her thoughts are pulled away though by a scream, by a commotion of a boy trapped in the vines, another on the ground, and two mares beside them. Mothers and their children? The sight stops her in her tracks, wondering if that was her, would anyone come to save her? Would anyone care? She doesn’t dwell on it though, on the understanding that likely no one would help her, that she would be on her own as she has always been on her own. At least these boys don’t have to be alone.
They are powerless to help their children, but they are there. Ori too is powerless to do anything but paint them a picture of what they wish for, but in this instance, what good would that do? None. It would only hurt them more, and they needed no more hurt. Not now. Still, Ori finds herself landing beside them. Her antlers have been growing in leaps and bounds lately, and not all of the plants have been hardened through, only some. She can’t help the boy on the ground, but she looks to the mare who must be the boy in the wall’s mother (Ori knows no names) and gestures with the antlers on her head, offering help.
She has been growing in leaps and bounds lately, her antlers as well. Though she’s still clearly a child, perhaps she can help. Meticulously, Ori sticks an antler into the brush and pulls, targeting the vines and brambles that the thinnest and not hardened. It’s slow work, too slow, really, but in the absence of anything better she keeps working, hoping that either she can break enough of the small bits to help him get free, or that someone with better suited to such a rescue mission will come along, and quick.
Oriash
but they forgot that nightmares are dreams too
