She would never describe herself as content, and yet, in the moment she is always content. Her soul knows hunger now, it knows wanderlust. Though as a child she was certainly content, no, complacent. And those are not exactly the same thing. As a girl she was rooted to the ground, to Loess, with no idea what the world held. She was complacent in her imprisonment - first by Castile and then simply by herself - to Loess. She did not use the wings she had been gifted, only the illusions that came so easily now.
Perhaps that’s where her peace in each moment stems from. The world is a canvas to her, and she can make of it what she will. Her paintings aren’t real, but they feel real, and those two things are close enough to the same that the difference in indiscernible.
She spends some time by herself, though not much, before someone else finds her. In her recent explorations, she’s quickly learning that it’s easy to find others to talk to, harder though to find friends that truly matter. There is only one she would consider a friend.
Her ears flicker in his direction as her gaze finds the black stallion. A laugh escapes her, a real thing, and she grins playfully. “I could be one,” she says, and she turns her skin to bark. Her legs grow into the ground like roots, and she lengthens, stretching with many arms to the sky before growing leaves. To the touch, she would feel like a tree, and yet in truth Ori still stand exactly where and as she was just a moment ago. A trick of the mind, and nothing more.
Her soul, for all its complacency and contentment once, longs for more now though. Once she tasted the sky, tasted freedom, tasted what Beqanna has to offer, she could not be satiated with just Loess. It’s why she finds herself here, and this stranger is certainly not disturbing her. Better yet, the first words out of his mouth were not her mother’s name.
After a moment, she lets the tree go, and she is herself again before him. “Oriash,” she offers. “Or just Ori is fine.”
@[kildare]
Perhaps that’s where her peace in each moment stems from. The world is a canvas to her, and she can make of it what she will. Her paintings aren’t real, but they feel real, and those two things are close enough to the same that the difference in indiscernible.
She spends some time by herself, though not much, before someone else finds her. In her recent explorations, she’s quickly learning that it’s easy to find others to talk to, harder though to find friends that truly matter. There is only one she would consider a friend.
Her ears flicker in his direction as her gaze finds the black stallion. A laugh escapes her, a real thing, and she grins playfully. “I could be one,” she says, and she turns her skin to bark. Her legs grow into the ground like roots, and she lengthens, stretching with many arms to the sky before growing leaves. To the touch, she would feel like a tree, and yet in truth Ori still stand exactly where and as she was just a moment ago. A trick of the mind, and nothing more.
Her soul, for all its complacency and contentment once, longs for more now though. Once she tasted the sky, tasted freedom, tasted what Beqanna has to offer, she could not be satiated with just Loess. It’s why she finds herself here, and this stranger is certainly not disturbing her. Better yet, the first words out of his mouth were not her mother’s name.
After a moment, she lets the tree go, and she is herself again before him. “Oriash,” she offers. “Or just Ori is fine.”
@[kildare]
Use of mild power playing is allowed; no injuries without permission