"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
I am groggy, disoriented, when the faery brings me back. My brain is as cloudy as the sky above us, and I can do no more than blink sluggishly as she gives her cryptic warning. What the fuck ever... It's not like I came here to make friends.
Even in my prone position, I manage to roll my eyes. I want to say something biting. But before I can convince my paper dry tongue to cooperate, the icy presence is gone, and I'm alone to recover from my misadventure.
I feel as though I've been caught in a landslide, or suffered some hours-long night terror. The muscles of my back and neck are wooden. It's with a miserable groan that I manage to pull myself upright, if still curled against the comfortingly still ground. So not worth it. But with a note of vague surprise, I realized that the land coming into focus is a familiar one. Loess. Her stoney landscape is the one I've been returned to, and I feel a bubble of satisfaction move viscously through my chest.
I'm here. I survived, even if it seems I hadn't accomplished much. A quick inventory of my self reveals nothing new. Same, gaudy girl who left this morning. Put through the wringer for nothing. A derisive snort passes through me. So much for that idea. I knew that impulsivity could only get me into trouble, so I suppose it's nice to be proven right. If only that didn't equate feeling so very bruised.
It's been a few moments, long enough to let the world stop spinning, and I force my legs to raise me from the earth. Wings shoot out akimbo in an awkward attempt to balance my woozy head. "Fuck me..." I grumble, head in question slung low. Gods, I need a drink.
Ori has no experience with the faeries, though she has heard plenty of stories. They sound like less than pleasant creatures and she finds herself mildly thankful that she’s never felt the urge to go seek their blessing. Perhaps someday, but she is content for now with the power given to her. What more does she need, really, other than the ability to be certain of reality? Yet to ask for that seems like a quick recipe to have her illisionism taken away, and she isn’t sure who she is without worlds at her fingertips.
No, Ori would far rather lose sight of what was real than lose the ability to create. After all, it had been her own companion growing up, even if it cruelly showed her the life she never got to have. Ori had made her own memories, in a way.
Today, so far, has been a mild winter day, which Ori finds herself thankful for. Her coat is long and warm, but still, the biting wind gets to her somedays anyway. Without it though, it is a nice enough day to wander through Loess. It doesn’t take long for a mare to catch her attention. To be fair, she is the kind that’s rather hard to miss; bright pink and purple, with yellow fins instead of a mane, the mare looks rather out of place in Loess entirely. They were not a sea friendly place, after all.
The other mare moves stiffly, looking a little worse for wear. Ori seems to be running into that sort lately. Maybe being kind is her calling, or maybe she just can’t help becoming her damn mothers, but she makes her way over. “You okay?” she asks, coming to settle a polite distance away from the other mare, waiting to see if she needed any help or could use some company.
but they forgot that nightmares are dreams too.
@[Rebelle]
Use of mild power playing is allowed; no injuries without permission
11-19-2019, 11:41 AM (This post was last modified: 11-19-2019, 11:41 AM by Rebelle.)
I had no sooner settled into something like an upright position when a girly voice breaks through to my pounding head. Perfect, just wonderful. Exactly what I needed right now. With a little more effort than I would have liked, my head makes its way upward, away from the swaying ground until I can see the owner of the voice more clearly.
At first I have to wonder if I'd scrambled my brains harder than I realized. But no, she really is wearing deer antlers. Whether they're actually attached to her skull remains to be seen, but I do intend to find out. Blue spotted markings run across her coat, like she'd rolled in a berry patch earlier in the day. Of course, that seemed unlikely. No, her indigo markings seemed to be the touch of her parents. What a strange pair they must be, to have created this result.
My gaze is level as I consider her question, feeling spiteful words climb up my throat in response. I'd been having a hell of a day already, and making small talk seemed like literal torture at the moment. But the effort to be biting seemed a bit much after the ordeal of my trip, and she looked like she was desperate to help. So I settled on a sigh and a shake of the head, brittle fins rustling along my neck at the gesture. "I'll be alright. Just got on the wrong side of the faeries, I think. Day can only get better from here."
My smile is rueful, childish, designed to disseminate concern. My skin itches with dryness, as if the bitter cold of the mountain had evaporated any moisture my body had held. It's uncomfortable to say the least, and fixing it becomes the primary concern in my mind. Batting sky blue eyes at the patchy girl, I let my wings droop a little closer to the ground. "I'm awful thirsty. You wouldn't happen to know where the closest water is, would you? I'm afraid I got a little disoriented on the way back." True enough, though the circumstances were heavily glossed over.
This was Loess, I'm certain, but exactly which part was less clear. I hadn't explored all that much, and was regretting that now. Didn't do my homework, now I had to rely on this horny thing to help me find my way. Because flying was so not happening today. Not with my wings feeling like lead balloons.
Desperate to help is probably not quite an accurate way to describe Ori. Rather, she’s just desperate to do something. Helping seems easier than going off to fight a war or whatever, so usually she finds herself helping. It is either that or she tends to find herself lost in illusions, the world changing in subtle ways around her without her really noticing. The deer that follows her around on occasion, flowers that bloom, light that shifts and sparkles. She is never quite sure exactly what the world looks like to everyone else in Ori’s absence, though in her presence they will see the world as she does.
Helping gives her something to focus on, gives her some semblance of grounding. It occupies her brain. She is not desperate to help, but she is desperate for what it gives her sometimes. This particular mares seems a prickly sort though, and Ori finds herself vaguely regretting deciding to be nice. Still, the response is nice enough. Lucky for the brightly colored, finned mare, Ori doesn’t really do small talk. They might get along on this front. “Ah,” she says, just a soft acknowledgment of the mare’s comment around the fairies with no further expectations attached to it.
The mare asks for water, which is not surprising. “Not far,” she offers, nodding in the direction of the north. One of the larger lakes, situated toward the north-eastern side of Loess was not too far off. Noting how the mare’s wings droop low toward the ground, Ori doesn’t suggest they fly. Instead she moves off at an easy walk toward the nearby lake. She wonders, briefly, as they walk exactly how the mare ended up in the middle of Loess after a trip to the fairies, but that seems like a topic best left alone.
“Where do you live, normally?” she asks, though it’s the only question she asks as they walk, not attempting to fill the space but merely curious how far away from home this mare actually was. Ori has delivered others to their doorsteps before, though she doubted Rebelle would need an escort, but rather just a nod in the right direction. “I’m Ori, by the way” she adds, cresting over a slight hill to reveal a rather large lake. It would be anything but warm this time of year, but she suspected that was not the sort of thing that bothered a mare made for the sea.
but they forgot that nightmares are dreams too.
@[Rebelle]
Use of mild power playing is allowed; no injuries without permission
It's easy enough to keep my mouth shut when I'm felling this low. The energy spent on being snide most days seems much more useful keeping me upright at the moment. Not that I need that to be obvious, but the relief I get when the horny girl says there's water nearby is almost visceral.
We're both winged, and the Dark God knows I'd have pushed every ounce of my remaining strength into keeping up had she suggested we fly, but she didn't and I can quietly be... I guess thankful. A tiny bit. Urg. I'm not dumb though, I know I'm in no position to attack help when I really need it. And right now I can feel the dregs of magic sapping at my bones, sucking at the very marrow.
The trip is quiet, and the land opens around us with her rugged beauty. Its good to be back, even if the specifics are still a bit lost on me. I don't yet see the formations that marked the edge of the pool I occupied most days. The adventure I had set myself on blurred time and space, and it was impossible to tell how long I had been away. There was no obvious indication of how much time had or hadn't passed, only that we seemed to be in the same season as I had left.
I hadn't been expecting her to speak. The silence had been a welcome thing, and I resented it that she would break it now. With a grim eye, I accepted that I may as well let her know I wasn't in need of that much help. "Here. Or near enough. This is still Loess, isn't it." A statement, not a question.
Our gaits, similar enough in length that neither of us had to adjust to keep pace with the other, carried us at an easy enough speed toward the water I could now smell on the air. It turned out that a gentle slope was all that kept us from the view of a slate-colored lake. She gave me her name, and it didn't matter, really. Names held about as much weight with me as the down within my wings. Less, even. Worse, I knew she expected a name in return. They always did.
So I gave her the same name I give to everyone. It's not a complete truth, but close enough that it rolls off my tongue like it is.
"Belle."
One word, a syllable away from the one my mother had christened me with, yet it felt much lighter than the promise of Rebelle. Rebel. If naming was a thing of power, then my mother had left me very few options in the world.
The flat surface of the lake beckons me, and I imagine it's something like seeing an old friend. There's safety in the water, and comfort that I dearly need right now. Still, I am aware of the mare beside me, and an unfamiliar sense of altruism bumps uncomfortably at my tongue. "Thank you." The words land awkwardly between us, a phrase that I had never used before without sarcasm or irony. While I can't look at her and say it, the gratitude is uncharacteristically sincere.
Her answer to her home is unexpected. Loess. Ori lived under a rock, she knew, but still she showed up to meetings and wandered around enough she was pretty sure she would have seen a mare that looked so obviously out of place. Her question, no, comment this is still Loess, isn’t it, doesn’t seem to be looking for a response and so Ori just stays silent and continues to walk on.
The other mare gives a name, and if only they each knew that the other did not give their true name. She had been Ori for so long that she did not know who Oriash might be. She’d simply become Ori, a name that her mother had not given her, because that was the important part. It was a name that her mother had not given her. But they do not know such things, and it’s clear enough to Ori this mare doesn’t really want her around or a conversation. Which was fine, Ori would go back to doing the things, or lack of things, that she did normally.
They arrive at the water with an awkward thank you from the other mare, and if Ori were anyone else she probably would have laughed, but that wasn’t a thing she tended to do. Instead she just nods. “Do you need anything else? If not, I’ll leave you to the water then.”
but they forgot that nightmares are dreams too.
Use of mild power playing is allowed; no injuries without permission
