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08-19-2015, 12:19 AM
Ophelia
The north called her once more, ice and snow her haven. Here, the unchanging landscape was her solace, a reprieve for her burdened mind. Split hooves of mousy gray carried her over ice and winter, her gait a natural dance and full of vibrancy. Blood trailed in her wake, a crimson reminder of her violent heritage and the ghosts which haunted her family’s lines, though her mother’s love shone in her single blue eye. Only one eye, though. The other was red, proving her duality. Ophelia was a gentle spy and a dangerous friend, turncoat to some and loyal to others.
Just as many herds as she lead, she left, and now she was a simple thief once more – a thief for two stallions she knew rather well. One broke her heart and the other was trying to mend the barely thawing remnants, and she pitied Torleik for trying. She wasn’t sure that he could succeed, but she hoped he would. Ophelia told him she was willing to try – promised she would, and time would tell who was right. Until then, he was at least very lovely to look at with his raven coat and thickly muscled frame.
Something ahead snapped, pulling her from her thoughts. Brows furrowed over her luminous eyes, and she watched as tension seemed to dissipate in the air. Even Tinek was surprised, and he lifted from his perch on her back to gaze into the distance. ”Something… strange,” he hummed in her head, flying straight into the unknown.
Without hesitation or question, she followed.
Between the mountains and at the foot of one she had never seen before, was a forest of red. This was not the fiery red of Orangemoon, no. This was the color of blood. Every tree was bathed in it like a murder scene, and the dim howl of a waterfall drew her further into the massacre. Ophelia stared with a narrowed gaze at the red pool, noting the color and how it looked like blood. Was it? The familiar tang of copper did not fill her nostrils, so it did not smell like blood. But, she had experienced stranger things in her relatively short life.
There, voices!
Ophelia walked into a group of strangers and her daughter with her father. Seeing the pair was shocking, and she clenched her jaw. Her last encounter with Roskuld had ended in heart ache, having told her the truth surrounding her birth. The Forsaken’s eyes turned to stone, watching with thinly veiled irritation at the God of the Spark. Part of her worried, seeing the fact that the god was bleeding (was that even possible?), and she stood quietly, unwilling to have her heart broken by greeting her child now.
Two beings. She saw two beings she did not recognize, and she watched them closely, noticing that they were different. One, a glowing mare, seemed just as confused as she felt, and her gaze returned to the Time God, giving him a rather pointed look. “Yes, what is going on?” she asked, her voice soft and gentle like chimes.
"My name is Ophelia," she introduced to these strangers, bowing her head tightly but with respect.
 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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