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Ophelia
the promise of things unseen
Ophelia recharged, letting rolling waves of heat and a spray from the crashing ocean below control the minute points of her body. Crimson and white hair bloomed around her face, caught in her hind legs and tangled around her horn, and she exhaled and inhaled deeply, expanding her ribs against a coat white as silence. A voice, masculine, travels on the breeze and graces her ears, and she tilts them back, the only sign that she has heard his inquiry. The pale princess takes a moment, opening her strange, dual colored eyes slowly and turning to face a black and gold stallion whom she assumed from his knowledge was from the Dragon’s Throat. Her name now was well known, and her coat color striking. She was easily discernible by those who cared to pay attention to the details, and he must be one of those rare gems. The unnerving, colorful gaze darts down to spy a beaked head peak from a bag, and Ophelia smiles, her mousy gray lips turning upwards ever so slightly as the corners of her eyes crinkle with joy. Children were beautiful and glorious, too soon ripped from their wild fantasies and dreams to be strangled by reality. She hoped that this child would have every opportunity for wonderment and joy. “I am Ophelia,” she nodded, red and blue orbs meeting his golden ones, twinkling with a strange light that could only shine from inner peace. She watched his gaze lift to the bright star on her forehead, hanging from her white, spiraled horn. As if she could read his mind (a joke), she spoke again, her voice softer than chimes on a gentle breeze and utterly feminine. “A gift from the God of the Sun,” she replied, nodding her head once to jostle the trinket. “A light to guide and protect. He is… enigmatic.” The mare smiled, too many descriptions swirling in her head to settle on just one, but she had chosen anyway. As she glanced to her gift, she hoped that he would see it and that he would remember as clearly as she the day she first brought a flower to his shrine. A second being arrived, and she watched him skate across the ground, a wraith to the Sun God’s shrine, and she offered to him the greatest gift one could bestow during worship: quiet. Ophelia cast her gaze away, unsure of who this stallion was as she had never laid eyes on him before, and she stood peacefully, resting one hip in relaxation. His prayer carried on the breeze, and she listened, understanding the desire for guidance and the direction for leadership. As if feeling his gaze on her skin, she turned, meeting this stranger’s aquamarine eyes and listening carefully, ears tilted forward with earnest. How did he know her name? Ophelia took a deep breath and contemplated carefully, frowning in thought. Through everything, she had faith. This was not some skill she had considered or practiced but rather clung to with desperation and need. Faith was all she had in a world that shifted and revolved relentlessly around her, leaving her alone and forgotten in corners of other’s minds as her heart was yanked in all directions. Faith was her promise of a better future. Faith was the unseen miracle. Faith was the unspoken love she felt in every heartbreak. Faith was the balm to her icy heart. How could she explain what simply was? Ophelia wanted to give him advice, to tell him how to possess this intangible gift, but she struggled phrasing her feelings – as usual. “I have faith because there is nothing else," she replied honestly. “Living, believing in nothing, cast aside and alone, is no life. No matter what transgressions I commit, foolish words I say, or hatred I feel in my heart, I know that I can come here and be cleansed. Faith is the promise of things unseen, but it is also meditation, struggle and thought.” Ophelia frowned, never having considered herself a priestess. She lacked the inherent purity required for such an honorable position, stained as she was in blood and lies. “When I am in doubt, lost in myself, I go to a place of solace and ruminate on the past. I search for truths in my history, patterns in my past, actions and consequences, and I make a plan for the future. Faith is the ability to execute that plan in the absence of foresight.” “You have to first believe in yourself, which is harder than it sounds…” she trailed, snorting bitterly. “Faith is… a journey, not a destination.” Ophelia offered a gentle smile. “How do you know me? Who are you?” @[Bucephalus] @[Kaj] |
 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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