Ophelia left the Aurora Basin with a skip in her step and a grin on her lips, feeling lighter than she had in months. The light on her horn and the key hanging just beneath it were a subtle reminder of the strength she still had left, regardless of her irritated outburst back in the mountains. She knew secrets. She had seen enough. She had listened to Rhea explain that her efforts to rise up in the herd had been ignored, and all of the hybrids who resided within were like her – with horns. Manipulative as she may be, she knew that that information would be useful for some, maybe not so much with others. Gaucho, for example, did not seem to care much what the Basin did as long as they did not mess with his herd. Maybe that would hold true, but he had been more than just an ally; he had been a friend.

The pale princess wandered south, knowing that the war stallion at least deserved to know that she was no longer in the Aurora Basin, and she would wait in silence for years, perhaps. Eventually, she would seek revenge. Having friends in powerful places was never, ever a bad thing. Ophelia would be sure that she repaid him somehow, too. She wasn’t sure how exactly – not yet, but she was thinking with every step in his direction, heart securely shut.

She couldn’t go back now. She couldn’t let Torleik see this side of her – the demon hiding behind the angel. He saw her in a different light, through different eyes, and she did not want to change that. In fact, if she had to label her fears one by one, she would list making Torleik see her has a monster as the first one. Perhaps in her desperation, she would only fuck everything up – she desperately begged the heavens for this not to happen. If he saw her as the terrible, cruel demon who laughed inside, she would be all for naught, but she could not deny that it was there. Ophelia was, after all, a product of her father, and he was plagued with gnashing teeth that haunted his every step. The blood of the Crimson King, Riekahn, was strong, unrelenting, and it cursed ever member of this god forsaken family.


The ocean met her hooves where previously there had only been rock, and she let her key cross a point she had used seasons before. Light formed a solid bridge, and she trotted swiftly over, without hesitation. Ophelia inhaled the fresh, clean desert air and was grateful that the seasons were fast changing – before, the heat was stifling and miserable, but now it was almost comfortable. Strange, dual colored eyes looked around for the unmistakable sign of Gaucho or any of his followers, and she thought that she had a good gift to return him – the very key she wore.

She knew that such items were precious, and in this interim phase of her life, she could not fully guarantee its safety. Ophelia would return it to better owners until she could prove herself stable enough to guard it once more. Patiently she stood nearby, mind racing heavily with thousands of thoughts. Hopefully someone would arrive whom she could relay her message to, even if it was not Gaucho himself.


[[Gaucho, leads? Warriors? Anyone :D ]]