I almost didn't find you in all that snow.

ORI (they/them)

2 foot tall baby made of light

“hey with sein gone what should be their main weapon in the sequel” “knife”

has a running theme of unwillingly being enemies with owls

not their baby sister though :)

was supposed to become a tree so being here puts quite a wrench in that plan huh

“What?” he snaps, sharply turning to look at what was suddenly moving in his peripheral vision—oh, they’re still here? He eases a bit, though still annoyed by the other’s curiosity. He doesn’t want to humor them any more than he has to.

“Nothing. Just remembered something.” Yes, it’s something in the newspaper. Where Ori can see, it’s an article detailing a freak accident: some man being discovered having drowned in his own bathroom, and its relation, somehow, to housing and architecture…

     Fifteen leafs through the pages, then, pulling out another insert: the comics section. He folds and hands this over to Ori as well, assuming they’re a child. They seem innocent enough.

“Here. You can keep all that. But no more questions.”

The light spirit stops in their tracks at his sudden sharp tone, prepared to withdraw ... then, alongside him, they ease a bit. They do still take a peek at the newspaper, though they try to do so discreetly, without getting into his space as much.

... Ori furrows one brow at the article and side-eyes Fifteen. What in the world would he remember upon reading this? ... That he’d chuckle at???

“Mm?” comics! Thank you. Ori gives Fifteen a small smile and sits back, knees drawn up to rest them against for easy reading. The first page that their eyes fall on has a little strip about a purple burger-eating feline repeatedly being bothered by a yellow canine. A blink, then a head turn towards the other while they ponder over his deal. “No more questions” - comics or not, they’re okay with that.

“so! the first thing every heroine needs, is a proper familiar! that way you have someone to yell at you when you forget to eat, or forget a test, or when all hope is lost, and you need a handy sacrifice to win the day-” the lecturer is promptly punched in the face, when the metal fist draws back, theyre smiling past their broken nose. “always impatient! i need to perform the summoning rites, if you would just-” V2 raises their marksman, and rather than the usual bullet, the ring of gunfire or the satisfying ping of a coin, healing mist erupts from the barrel, reversing the damage they’d just inflicted on this insufferable cretin. they stare at their revolver, check the cylinder for bullets before aiming out the window of the room they’d woken up in today, and fire. this time the bullet does ring out, shattering the glass into glittery rain that seems to evaporate into the air. “thanks for that! my nose was getting real stuffy. good idea, letting the wind ventilate the room too.” the old man in a robe nods sagely at the blood filled killing machine, standing in a small bedroom that was decidedly not theirs in the slightest. what sick joke had the stars crafted this time? what or who is this man?? where Are they?? none of these questions are easily posed or demanded without a voice, and the best V2 can manage are harmonically pleasing notes. a few more attempts at killing off this old man are met with failure, the universe itself bending over backwards to paint it’s actions as ‘helpful’ as possible while also keeping it in the bedroom. finally, it pauses in it’s attempts long enough for the old man to play out a kind of summoning sequence, he draws a circle in the floor, and in a flashy display telling the viewer exactly where the budget went in this show, a shape takes form in the middle. @lightbursted finds themselves in a small cute bedroom suddenly, with two figures, one familiar and one a painfully generic caricature of a ruminating wizard looming over them. unlike their previous meetings, V2 doesnt point at them. “ah, what a fine shape your familiar has taken, one of light and purity. im sure you are destined for great-” V2 slaps him away, scrutinising the new arrival. strangely, they only have a threat profile of this creature, although they do not recall meeting it before.. they make no move, waiting to see what it does first.

“Buh-- !”

What is-- they have to rub their face and pause for a sneeze in order to finally clear out their nose and throat. Shimmers of iridescent slowly reveal their hovering form, eyes blinking to try and see past the mist of colour. V2 and the wizard’s forms begin to clear, and Ori blinks, eyes looking from one figure to the other. They’re about to wave an awkward hello when--

“... ??!”

Hey! Ori stumbles forward, a pair of newly-donned fairy wings trying to disrupt their trotting by picking them up into the air. The light spirit stretches to stand their full height, still nowhere near matching V2. Still, they’ve positioned themselves between them and the wizard.

“Vitu.” a single name. Unhappy eyes stare up at V2′s single golden optic - their face communicates a simple request to not do what they did again. At least it was a simple slap, and not a railcannon explosion.

Please.

     Stop. Don’t look. Don’t give them any more of your time, he thinks, then immediately turns to read. Okay, so they could talk, and were literate, and didn’t come from a place where the weather was forecast in front of a green screen or on paper. Made sense.      Fifteen’s brow furrows at this situation he’s found himself in. He feels like he’s in a panel of the comics section of the newspaper, having to explain things as a human adult to a little glowy light spirit.

“It’s not exact. You’re not holding a prophecy. You’re looking at averages, and estimations with information that’s available to the forecasters.” He shakes his newspaper once, forcing the wrinkles smooth.

“If they are human forecasters, then they’re inherently flawed—no, biased might be the better word. Lower percentage chances of rain are reported as much higher than they are.” He lapses into silence, and then seems to gently chuckle at something.

Ori remains blissfully unaware of Fifteen’s silent inner suffering, instead too focused on his explanation. 

“Mmm.” they tap their chin in understanding. Averages and estimations made sense - but then, how were those ... maybe, depending on how cold or warm it was between each day the last week ...

     Him and his big mouth. Fifteen relents, relaying the next week’s forecast in a monotone that’d get him fired if he were on-air for more than five seconds.

“Mostly sunny with scattered clouds. Chance of showers Tuesday. Eclipses subject to the whims of the Stars.”

     He sighs, then pulls out the insert of the forecast, folding it in half and holding it out for Ori to take and read for themself. It’s got a little cartoony weather symbol for each day of the week, and further information about things like air quality and temperature numbers.      Fifteen’s no meteorologist, but it did feel good to relay a prediction of the future, considering how his lifelong ability of precognition has been sorely missed as of late. Not that he’ll admit that out loud.

“Here. See for yourself.” He speaks with an impatient tone.

Now that they have the weather forecast, it’s time to kill this clown. Just kidding.

Ori’s smile turns a little lopsided - this guy probably doesn’t like reading, does he? They appreciate his attempt regardless, and listen  with care.

The light spirit leans forward to thoroughly check over the forecast section, reading the square for Monday first, then Tuesday, then Wednesday ... nodding each time, and when finished tilt their head, as though going, “huh!”

They look from the paper to Fifteen and back, then put it down beside them to take out Kuro’s feather, writing:

@divineshadows​ sent: ⭐️ 

Ori spends a moment fiddling with Emil’s scarf, until ...

“I like this,” they say, picking up the long end as they stand, wrapping it around their own neck, “I like the clothes you wear! Pretty, and ... swooshy, when you move. So cool. These purples are rare to get dyes of, aren’t they?”

“ may i sit here? ” @lightbursted

“You ‘may’ do whatever you please,” he replies flatly to this talking two-foot-tall cartoon animal of a creature. He’s resigned to reality being broken, here.

     Fifteen’s reading over a newspaper on a bench, sitting cross-legged in a way that rests one calf on the other leg’s knee. There’s still enough room beside him for another person, or two Oris side-by-side. He continues, sarcastically: “Want to know the weekly forecast, while I’m at it?”

Oh! Well, in that case, Ori immediately hops up and sits next to him, legs sprawled out casually to contrast his proper ... ness.

@errantkatana​ sent: ⭐️ 

Ori stretches out to stand reaaal tall, and squints at Zero thoughtfully.

FIRST INTERACTIONS STARTER SENTENCES

First impressions can be tough to get through. That's okay. To get started , here are some general sentences to get things going

❛ i'm sorry , i didn't mean to bump into you . ❜

❛ hey , are you lost ? ❜

❛ sorry , people here don't really like new faces . ❜

❛ have i seen you before ? ❜

❛ where are you from ? ❜

❛ oh my god ! you scared the shit out of me ! ❜

❛ you should be careful. this area is pretty shady. ❜

❛ hello ? i think i'm lost. ❜

❛ can you take this picture for me ? ❜

❛ excuse me , i think you dropped this. ❜

❛ you shouldn't be here. ❜

❛ can i borrow your phone ? ❜

❛ holy shit ! are you okay ? ❜

❛ may i sit here ? ❜

❛ i think they got our orders mixed up. ❜

❛ hi , i'm looking for a _____ . is that you ? ❜

❛ sorry , i'm new here. ❜

❛ i'm so sorry ! let me clean that up for you. ❜

❛ hey it's you ; _____ ! ❜

❛ you should watch where you're going. ❜

❛ can you hold this for me ? ❜

[ 🪁 ] does your muse have a special talent or hobby they devote themselves to? why is this talent or hobby important to them?

hmmm ... they've really taken an eye to some secret parkour events held across the city and its branches! secret because i assume they run through some off-limits/private properties idk.

since they've been stripped of their abilities it's fun to have to start over from square one and have to make-do with what they currently have unlocked. also keeps their senses + muscles in top shape. they love to feel free!! they love to feel capable and put in some good sweat and blood into something. they love to be able to Explore and stuff.

they've been thinking about home and the situation they were ripped out of a lot recently. doing something physical is helping them keep their mind off it.

[ 😈 ] does your muse like to prank others? do they do so often?

ori's Really not the pranking type tbh! the most they've ever done is like, use a feather to tickle a close family member awake. if someone wants to do a harmless prank on someone else they'll likely just watch, but will help out if asked and giggle along a little when it's pulled off :)

“Captain? Oh, thank God, they’re okay.”

Without their little light spirit of a Crew Captain ( @lightbursted ), the Victoria and its loyal crewmates would certainly be lost.

     The second-in-command, the one who spoke, was a stout woman, kneeling over Ori’s hypersleep pod. She pushed her glasses up after ensuring they were awake, nodding once in determination, then taking a quick glance around.

“Sitrep ready-to-issue from Executive Officer Doe, Captain. And let me know if I’m going too fast. The hypersleep sickness was mild for me, but I can’t say the others—” (cue a scripted groan from a fellow crewmate nearby) “—Have had it as easy as me.”

“AMELIA, our caretaker program (as you know), seems to have taken us all out of hypersleep prematurely, on account of a distress signal. We’ve triangulated the source of the signal, and it seems to have emanated from nearby planet UK-666, for an unspecified amount of time.”      Doe pauses, hesitating, then hastily adds in a quieter tone, “Some have voiced their hesitance in investigating the source, but I just… I don’t think it’s right to leave it totally uninvestigated.”

The woman pushes her glasses up again, then clears her throat.

“But, of course, we’ll honor every command you have to issue. Whether or not we’re going to make contact, though, AMELIA has already logged the signal, and… I’m sure the crew would like to stretch their legs. Save some lives. What’ll it be, Cap’?”

Ori has so many questions, all of them completely lucid in nature, the opposite of what this situation feels like. They know some -- weird -- stuff is going on this week, where everything feels like a theater play, but this is just one of those vivid dreams one has in the middle of a hot summer. They rub the bleariness out of their eyes as they sit up, ears pricked to pick up every word of -- their Executive Officer, if they’re the Captain.

(Is hypersleep like a bear hibernating ...?)

Their mind sharpens when Doe mentions a distress signal, visible by the way they turn to face her, eyes wide, brows slowly furrowing. Hesitation is understandable - who knows what the reason for that distress is and how long it’s been broadcasting, but if there’s survivors still waiting for rescue ...

They give Doe a ready smile. How could they not check it out?

Luz was still lost, with everything going on, but at least this time there was a camera crew to look at and give her context. She beamed at Ori when they called out her name, and she crouched down to be on level with both Ori and the little owl perched on their arm.

“Yeah! An owl! Uh…” She glanced over at the camera crew, then back to the owl.  Although she lived with a woman known as ‘The Owl Lady’, who had an owl palisman named Owlbert… she didn’t know all that much about real owls. So, in a split-second decision, Luz began to do the only thing she could think of.

She improvised.

“So, what we’ve got here is a cute little, uh… burrowing owl! You can tell because his home seems to be right over there, in that li’l hole!” She was pretty confident that was the case, anyway. “They’re this big and a li’l bit chonky. Their eyes are BIG, and you know they like you when they make unbroken eye-contact with you.” As a show of this, she turned to the owl and met its eyes, making her own very wide as she stared it down.

The light spirit follows Luz’s gaze towards the camera crew and back, still stuck in that dramatic pose of theirs, until she begins improvising - unbeknownst to Ori. As far as they were concerned, these were facts(they live in the ground?!). Ori stands straight, head tilted her way to listen, “Burrowing owl ...!” they say under their breath in a hushed tone, accented by a shimmy of their free hand around the animal.

... The staring means they like you? The faux shock is quickly replaced by genuine interest, however, as Luz continues, and slowly they begin to relax.

The owl’s piercing yellow eyes meet Luz’s, and so it initiates a staring contest, unblinking and beginning to wiggle its head around. Ori strains themselves from jumping in excitement- that movement!! They know what-- !!

“They do that wobble to see better!” they say softly, giving Luz a bright grin, “To figure out distance between them and their target.”

"You ... you’re offering to help?”

Ori nods their head, stretching up a little more to place their hands upon the old man’s and hold them tightly within theirs - yes, they silently say, their brows furrowed and little moons gleaming right at him. They barely know the many strategies that were involved in the cooking process, the techniques, the magics of it all - but they could give it their all despite that, couldn’t they?

The old man pauses for a moment, staring at the floor in disbelief ... but the cogs in his brain are ticking. “You’d need some sharp skills and fast hands to make it work. And we’d need someone to collect orders and deliver them- I could fill that role, what with my trusty old rollerskates ...”

Ori steps back as he stands, chest puffed up and tail tip curling. They give him a determined nod - they would make it work.

“Yeah. Yeah ...! Maybe, we can pull this off! Er-” the old man places a wrinkly hand upon his neck, giving an apprehensive look up past Ori’s shoulder, “A-Assuming you’re both giving me a hand, here ...?”

A blink. “Both” ...?

They turn their head, met with a darkness that they quickly recognize - there wasn’t anyone else made of a starry void in Spirale, after all. Wide moons blink again at the Nightmare Knight’s entrance. The last time they’ve met, he’d torn an entire train car off the tracks as a present to them. It was ... chaotic, for sure, but ... they felt that the gesture wasn’t rooted in malice.

Back and forth, back and forth, until another guard joins him and they stop to talk. Ori’s ears lower upon discovering the conversation is about tonight’s menu, of all things, but the mental map of the guard’s patrolling habits is tucked to the side in their thoughts.

... Now, if only Emil would wake up ... the light spirit glances to him with a frown, laid across the floor. They hop down from the lackluster, stained mattress provided in the cell to join him on the concrete, kneeling beside his head. They’d checked him earlier, and they were sure he wasn’t injured, but still they can’t help but worry. They gather up bunches of his dark purple scarf and tuck it a little further under his head, hoping he’s at least comfortable while unconscious ... their shoulders shake as a heavy sigh leaves their lungs.

Ori stares at his face a little longer, then reaches out to pat pat pat his cheeks. “Emil.” they whisper - if only so the guard doesn’t hear them, “Emil!”

Something about the way people are “chosen” and escorted out of their cells makes their gut twist, and they wouldn’t get very far with an unconscious friend on their hands, regardless of their skills. Emil needs to wake up and they need to get out of here before-