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01-25-2015, 12:18 AM
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Ophelia
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Ophelia stood at his mercy, open to all of his words and awaiting his judgment. She listened without reservation, trusting when she already had so little to trust. He validated her sense of doubt, hesitancy born of failed attempts before, and she knew that her hunger for knowledge and patience had afforded her victories far before she was mature enough to understand the gravity of her actions. Age had barely carried her into adulthood when she waged her first war, successful in building a home for those who rested their faith on her shoulders. She and her sister had followed through. Doubts had been so important. Yet so many demanded otherwise. The thought of trust, of leaping over the pit of vipers, expecting solid ground to find her at the other side was hard. Too many times had she been let down and hurt others. Too many times had she made that leap and wound up injured and broken-hearted. Too many times had she jumped only to realize that the one she wanted on the other side was gone. Just gone. How could she jump again, trust again, when patterns told her that she was undeserving, never worthy of the heart of another? At what point was she a masochist for continuing to cause herself pain, knowing the outcome? Ophelia averted her gaze, feeling failure creep on her despite actions not even having been taken yet. The darkened sky served as a perfect canvas for his glowing, godly coat. And she? A pale blight on the earth, strange, odd in appearance and so painstakingly plain. Bizarre, dual colored eyes took in his beauty and felt her heart break with every plane of his face. What she saw in the god was perfection, a light that hunted every flaw in her soul and yanked it into judgment day. And she had many. But what he said next gave her hope. Love does not require perfection. She furrowed her brows, cautiously meeting his gaze again. Confusion swept over her features, and she waited patiently for his explanation. He was right, though. Her fears were no excuse for action. The possibility of failure no reason for stillness. And she... she deserved love? Those words settled on her like an awkward embrace, and she stiffly accepted it, disbelieving. Honestly, she had expected him to tell her that no one deserves love, but they get it anyway. But to deserve it? Torleik had already decided. So... she should accept it. Saving him from herself was not her responsibility, not if they wanted her so badly. That sad oddly on her mind, not inline with her natural ability to self-sacrifice. Still, she smiled, the expression bright and awed, dual colored gaze twinkling. "You give good advice," she complimented. "I am honored to have received your wisdom.""I... I cannot make other's decisions for them, and as foolish as they might be, they will end up being their mistakes. Yet to know all of this does not make acting any less frightening," she chuckled nervously. "I feel like a coward, hiding in the mountains, but remembering makes forgiving so hard." And yet, as she looked into those ancient, wise eyes, she felt as if all her problems paled in comparison to a lifetime of being alone. She wished she could ease his suffering, but her mortal life would rise and fall like the sun, fading into a night from which she would never return. Whatever promises she would make now would linger like a wound in the afterlife, and she would become one of many generations to come. One of many seeking wisdom. One of many to make her mark so that it could fade. She was comfortable with the inevitability of her own denouement. The idea of dying did not scare her in the slightest; it was simply the way of things. To never die would be so much worse. It was a lonely existence, to live forever. Everything and everyone you loved would fade, and you would live on, like torture. "You offer so much of yourself to us," she murmured softly. "For as long as I am able, I will do my best to return the favor. I will serve you until my last breath." Ophelia made her vow, the words not uttered lightly. For regardless of her faults, she was loyal until the end. The pale princess bowed her head deeply, tip of her crown touching the ground before her hooves as she bent her knee. |
 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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