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10-23-2014, 11:52 AM
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Ophelia the Forsaken
The winds changed, shifted in an unnatural way, and those signs usually did not precede the arrival of the God of the Sun. Dry, winter air crackled and snapped around her, and she frowned, watching a blue butterfly made of shock dance around. Ophelia turned her head over her shoulders, watching a familiar character come in her direction, black, blue and winged. In a land that no longer existed, they had fought until her white coat was stained with mud and Ampere had fallen. That victory had been unexpected, and she did not hold the situation against her. Her prayer finished, she felt the other one approach, her aura and atoms as full of static and tension as Ophelia assumed was her soul. Ampere seemed to radiate emotions and sparks like wildfire, barely controlled and quick to temper. Such a stark contrast to herself who stood with an almost deathly calm, unperturbed and nearly vacant. Life and death. Passion and apathy. A sigh of moisture, quickly dissipated by the heat of the veins, followed Ampere's question, and Ophelia furrowed her brows, slowly shaking her head. "That... I do not know," she said quietly. The jury was still out on whether or not Ampere's presence was welcome, given the anxiety that seemed to rattle the very air around where she stood. Ophelia listened and then absently watched the static butterfly burst like a gunshot, energy disappearing into the forces of nature. Perhaps, of the God of the Sun did not show up, he already knew something was terribly wrong. Ophelia turned her gaze to focus on Ampere's electric blue eyes, narrowing her white lids slightly. What had she seen? The temptation to peer into her mind was overwhelming, but she steadied herself. Ask first. She must always at least ask first. "I came to ask about something I have seen in the forest, what I believe to be a premonition of dark and wicked things to come," she trailed, finding that others opened up more easily when she gave of herself first. Though, she wondered how much was left to give... "What have you seen?" Ophelia's strange, two-toned gaze never wavered, the weight of the open and empty eyes almost unnatural. "I have to hope that the God of Time and the God of Fire know already, but if they can do nothing, we must." Ophelia's statement was not firm, only honest. If the world was going to drown, she would breathe her last breath fighting. War was in her blood, and though she took no pleasure in violence, she would partake to protect what she had here. Tinek stirred on her back, yawning innocently for such a large creature, and he eyed Ampere curiously. "She shot shock at me..." he hummed. "Yes, she did, but do not take offense." "No... I do not. She breathes like me." With a toothy smile, he exhaled a plume of static that caused Ophelia's hair to stand on end. The butterfly she had made was pretty, and he wished he could do more than just... breathe destruction. "Tinek says you breathe like he does," she said, translating for Ampere. "He remembers too when we battled years ago, Ampere." Ophelia remembered the feeling of getting her legs caught in roots she could barely see - of falling and fearing she would inhale the murk into her lungs. The white mare smiled strangely and bowed her head in greeting. "My name is Ophelia." Would he need the reminder or be offended? "He wishes he could make butterflies like you can." A lifeless face that you'll soon forget
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 Undertow has come to take me. Guided by the blazing sun. Look at everything around us. Look at everything we've done. Please. Anyone. I don't think I can save myself. I'm drowning. |
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