07-01-2019, 12:55 PM
they promised that dreams can come true
He might be, in some small way, the first horse she’s encountered who can begin to the see the edges of her beneath her public identity. Ori’s entire life, and through it her worth, have been defined by her parents, by their status and therefore the chaos that disrupting her life could cause. So many remark on her appearance and her parentage in meeting here. Even Petron had (though nicer, simply pointing out Silver Cove), something she doesn’t fault him for but something she always notices. Ori notices so little about the real world, but this she is keenly attuned to. Her life has been defined by this so deftly and definitively that she cannot miss it now.
Yet, she notices to the way he smiles at her in this moment, the air shimmering beside them. Realization dawns across his face and he seems genuinely pleased at the offer, and she can’t help but give him a small smile back. Her heart, despite her life, had not entirely hardened. In truth, she’s not sure it’s kind either, but rather simply is, in the way Ori simply is. Neither kind nor cruel, neither black nor white.
He begins to describe, and she paints as he speaks. Gale comes into view slowly, a small thing like her, young and fuzzy with legs too long and ears too big. There’s no color yet, but wings form, like a pencil sketch before the actual paint. She pauses for a moment as Pteron describes the color, then goes back to painting, first replicating Pteron himself and then adding blue ripples, imagining the way grass blows in the wind and deepening the hue of the blue in such a way as to be reminiscent of what he describes. She looks back at Pteron then, waiting for confirmation if this piece is correct, uncertain that she has quite gotten it down and happy to correct as necessary.
He adds another comment, and she doesn’t know who his father is, but she turns the boys mane blue while more hair crops up down the length of the illusions back. She turns back to Pteron again, a question in her eyes, waiting to see if she’d gotten it right. The illusions stands still, but she wants to breathe life into it, to let him move as if alive again, even if only for the moment. She can, and will, but it seems appropriate to first make sure that the illusion is correct.
Yet, she notices to the way he smiles at her in this moment, the air shimmering beside them. Realization dawns across his face and he seems genuinely pleased at the offer, and she can’t help but give him a small smile back. Her heart, despite her life, had not entirely hardened. In truth, she’s not sure it’s kind either, but rather simply is, in the way Ori simply is. Neither kind nor cruel, neither black nor white.
He begins to describe, and she paints as he speaks. Gale comes into view slowly, a small thing like her, young and fuzzy with legs too long and ears too big. There’s no color yet, but wings form, like a pencil sketch before the actual paint. She pauses for a moment as Pteron describes the color, then goes back to painting, first replicating Pteron himself and then adding blue ripples, imagining the way grass blows in the wind and deepening the hue of the blue in such a way as to be reminiscent of what he describes. She looks back at Pteron then, waiting for confirmation if this piece is correct, uncertain that she has quite gotten it down and happy to correct as necessary.
He adds another comment, and she doesn’t know who his father is, but she turns the boys mane blue while more hair crops up down the length of the illusions back. She turns back to Pteron again, a question in her eyes, waiting to see if she’d gotten it right. The illusions stands still, but she wants to breathe life into it, to let him move as if alive again, even if only for the moment. She can, and will, but it seems appropriate to first make sure that the illusion is correct.
Oriash
but they forgot that nightmares are dreams too
@[Pteron] sorry, Ori apparently doesn't talk much
Use of mild power playing is allowed; no injuries without permission