Ophelia stood proudly with a narrowed gaze, the blood dripping and pooling around her coat with the force of her anger. She was vengeful, to some a fault but to others, beautiful. The fury she rained down upon her enemies was tenfold their original sin, but this was who she was. Like most beings, she did not see fault in her ways – only catastrophic failure if her retribution was not delivered swiftly and successfully. Like a phoenix, she had risen from the ashes of her own losses (especially against Mauja), and she had overcome. Though bested in combat by Gaucho, Mauja and Deimos, she was not down and would trial against the limitations of her own body until she yanked herself to the top by nubs of fingernails.

Time was her friend, not her bloodline. She waited a watched, learned and remembered. Knowledge was power which she knew how to use better than whatever strength she held in her willowy form, but she was unafraid to throw herself into violence. Perhaps this is what set her apart – her willingness to do whatever it takes, no matter the consequences.

In this way she did make a name for herself, one that matched the name of her father but she did it on her own. No one cared when she was just a filly, a nobody, that she was the daughter of the Valiant. Only after she beat herds into submission did they take notice, and Nymeria should have been wise enough to know this for herself. Even if she had succeeded in stealing, Ophelia would have found out, though her chances of success were slim to none. She was less experienced, younger, and a fool if she had any notion of this going well.

Ophelia turned her gaze to see Volterra and Gaucho in the distance, and grunted softly. Mostly, she focused on her nephew since she liked the boy quite a bit. A single raised brow asked a question: did he know? But her gaze almost softened. He was not the one standing before her now, facing his own failure. In fact, he had proven himself in battle and commanded Tinek with a sound mind, something Ophelia had never let anyone else do before.

Turning back to Nymeria, she snorted in angry amusement at the pathetic excuse of her words. There were enough holes in her story to make a lie seem honest, and the Amaranthine smiled, the expression somehow infinitely more deadly with blood dripping down her face.

“Do you take me for a fool, dear?” she asked, the sickly sweet tone holding malice. “You know where I live. You have seen me there. I caught you spying at the borders of the World’s Edge. Volterra has approached me before in battle. You know my name. You could have asked any in the World’s Edge or could have awaited my arrival.” Ophelia took a step forward, tail flashing around her haunches as she sternly focused forward.

“Do not lie to me; not when I have caught you so plainly, girl. Not even your thoughts are safe from me.” She whispered the last line, a threat and a warning that she would yank the truth from unwilling brains if she had to. “TELL THE TRUTH! WHAT were you going to steal from you AUNT?!” she bellowed, pulling her mousy lips back from ivory fangs.

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(0/3-4?) (564 words)
- no battle yet!