[private] Try to find meaning in hazy blurred out dreams

[Link]

could you help me push aside all that I have left behind?

A master of her craft, she shakes her head at him with a grin and begins to work. The ground trembles and splits and for a moment, a dark moment, he is transported to that day the South had fallen. The rumbling beneath his hooves that could be felt from every corner of Beqanna no matter where you were. Panic begins to set in, a triggered response, as his vision begins to tunnel but there is no ocean rising around them, the land doesn’t disappear. Instead, it forms and grows before him and with some deep breaths (remembering the few times he had seen his mother calm his father after his nightmares) he begins to come back to himself. Reminds himself that this isn’t real, this was his request coming to life through her art.

It is less difficult when he finds the concentration on her face, the brightness of her gaze as she works diligently on making his dreams come true. He breathes easier when he looks up at the volcano again, the plume of smoke that rises from its tip, and he finds himself suddenly laughing with delight when the lake appears… Quite certain he has NEVER seen that many ducks in his entire life. The sky glitters with a golden touch, the grass turns as blue as the sky had once been but keeps its green tinge at the ends of each and every blade. He starts to notice these touches of hers, pieces of herself and her own vision, and finds that to be more enjoyable than anything he could ever think of on a whim. The deer with their bright open eyes that look at them with curiosity, the kaleidoscope of flowers that she sends to spread across the ocean of grass she had created.

He kneels before the lake, watching the ducks as they splash and skim over the surface and finding a strange joy in their quaking and ruffled feathers, before finally looking back at her as it all begins to fade. “I can tell.” He says appreciatively as the last bits of gold fade from the sky and the ground beneath them returns to it’s brilliant lush green. “I liked the deer. That was a good touch.” He adds, coming back closer to her. “Are they the ones that gave you your antlers?” He asks genuinely, assuming perhaps they had been a gift of some sort. With a cheeky grin, he asks her teasingly,  "Could you paint me some? I'd like to try them on." 

--LINK

@Oriash

[Oriash]

↼ORIASH⇁

they promised that dreams come true

If she were not so engrossed in the world she was creating, if it did not take all of her concentration, she might notice his response to the rumbling underfoot, might realize that that particular touch was not particularly considerate. She does not notice though, for her mind is elsewhere, weaving together things that are not there. All Ori can see are the stands of their senses that she tugs at, twisting and shaping them into something new. It’s a type of painting, certainly, though it’s not as simple as running a brush over a canvas. Illusions are a different type of art entirely.

When the illusion comes to an end and she turns her attention back to Link. He seems to appreciate her craft, and this pleases her in a way she cannot fully describe. I like the deer, he says, and she smiles. He asks about her antlers, and surprisingly, her smile does not falter even as Kagerus flashes through her mind. Perhaps it’s not surprising, not now anyway. They may have had their struggles before, but those wounds had been mended. The scars are not gone, and they never will be, but they no longer hurt as they once did.

”The antlers were a gift passed on through my mother, and they are far more real than anything I create. But I’ve always felt rather like I fit in among the deer, so perhaps that is why I created them.” They are always the same deer, with the same details. At this point, Ori has given them names for they are so often around her, conjured without thought.

As she finishes speaking, she makes her own antlers disappear. Invisibility is the trickiest of illusions, but she’s not moving, and so there’s nothing to compensate for behind her for the most part, which makes the trick a bit easier. Then, she paints them on Link's own head, adding for good measure the weight and feel of them. They change the way you need to hold your head, the effort it takes. She knows because they had to grow on her just like a real deer’s, and so she has experienced life without them for some time. Below Link, she paints a pond where he can look and see his own reflection so he can see just what he’d look like with them. ”I’m definitely biased, but they look good on you.”

but they forgot that nightmares are dreams too

@Link

[Link]

could you help me push aside all that I have left behind?

There is no sign of painful remembrance in her expression and so he smiles back at the mention of the deer. He is as ignorant to her thoughts (no matter how fleeting) as she had been to his panic, swept away in the splatter of paint and imagination. She speaks of her mother, the deer that she can conjure around them. Ones that move and breathe as if they were real. He wonders if it eases the loneliness, to always have instant friends you can pull from the end of a brush. "I can see that. You share their grace. Their elegance."

It should not surprise him by now when she happily accepts his next request and yet.. It does. As her own antlers slip away and vanish into thin air, a heavy weight appears at his brow, the sudden balancing act as they appear over his own head. Settling against his skull as if they were really his, as if they belonged there. A startled laugh slips from him but he is obviously enjoying this, shifting awkwardly as he tries to get the hang of it all.

Eventually, he finds a balance to the extra mass (able to hold his head with some attempt of regality as the antlers deserved) and glances a russet eye to his reflection that now shimmers below in the waters of her making. A sharp bright grin. A spark in the flecks of gold that scatter across his iris's, pleased.  “You know I agree…” An easy laugh as he looks back to her. “Although I’m not sure how you do this all day every day without a headache.” It seems he shared something else in common with his father now, their mutual secret awe when it came to the deer folk and their adornments.

Carefully he moves his head back and forth, enjoying the illusion that follows with each sweep of his blazed face. “I will admit that I don’t carry them as well as you. It is strange…” he admits, his gaze sparkling with warmth, “To see you without them. You wear them well.” A thought occurs, his expression becoming something amused. “Although I’m curious how well they would look if I did this…” He murmurs and begins to shift, the bright pastel of his coat swallowed by fur of ebony and ivory. A giant panda appears before her and promptly sits back on its haunches, glancing up to see if the illusion held. “How do I look now? Still majestic?”

--LINK

@Oriash