Ophelia and Torleik were moving south from the safety of the mountains into the body of Helovia. Though the rocky peaks were shields from danger, the seasons would turn too fast to prepare a young child to face the wrath of Frostfall at such an altitude. Her argument for having her child in the Dragon's Throat had fallen on stubborn ears, but Tor had finally seen reason. What better place to birth a child than in the middle of an island guarded by a pegasus who was mildly obsessed with her? Not that she knew Gaucho was obsessed, exactly. But she knew they had been allies for long enough that her safety would be given a reasonable priority.

Unable to fight that logic, Torleik had submit to her will, and together they moved toward the sandy shores. The journey was long and her body was growing round with every day - like the moon itself filling toward an orangemoon harvest. Fortunately, she had plenty of time to make it south given how long she was pregnant with Roskuld. She remembered that time perfectly - the fear of it, and not known what she was doing. Now, she was better prepared and no longer afraid. Ophelia was in love. She no longer had fear.

They stopped for the night, and she wandered to a familiar lake - a place that held so many memories and now even more. She did not relish the day when her mind became so full that she went insane, and she prayed she had a few more years remaining. Ophelia exhaled softly and wandered with heavier steps toward the organic smell of the water nearby. Thirst was a powerful need in pregnancy. In the Foothills, the stream had been readily available, but on their journey now, she often found her mouth dry.

As she wandered into the clearing, her gaze settled on a familiar, heart wrenching sight. She felt her chest tighten and turn with emotion, strange gaze twisted to one of furrowed brows and sadness. Roskuld....

She loved her, truly. There was a place of her heart reserved for her daughter, but she had been shit at explaining it and even more ignorant in her youth of raising the half-goddess. There were no excuses, but she tried - honestly, she did. One day, she hoped Roskuld could see that her trying meant something. She hoped that she would be seen in her mind as a good mother and not an utter failure.

Ophelia hesitated and then approached in a much less elegant manner given her size. The normal bounce and bend of her spine was gone, weighed down, and the fit muscles had been leeched by the growing life in her belly. "Roskuld," she said, her voice wavering with so many emotions, but most of all was hope. "Roskuld, how are you? It's so nice to see you." It was honest. She was glad to see Roskuld. Concerned, yes. Worried, yes. But still glad.

"I ah... you are going to have a sibling soon, though I wish not to pressure you. Should you have need of me, I will be in the Dragon's Throat where I will be safe." The words were rushed, but she needed to get them all out.