Tinek picked up on the change in distress at nearly the same moment as Comadre, and the silver dragon quickly followed the small black, soaring wildly through the hair to land on Ophelia. The charcoal dragon was Tinek's only, elder role-model, and as such, he parroted the creature by crawling up Ophelia's neck and hissing, heavy frost falling from his jaws. Silver wings expand to make the infant appear larger, arching his neck to reveal a row of sharp, silver daggers that erupted from his spine. When Osiris' hoarse voice reached her ears, the words so dark and sorrowful, she furrowed her brows deeply, odd eyes filling with concern. "You are wrong," she murmured sternly, her soft, concerned expression hardened with the conviction of her words.
Ophelia heard the wolf-stallion murmur to his dragon, and she hoped that one day, she and Tinek would be able to follow suit. Suddenly, Djinn, the stallion who had spoken about watching her back from the Threshold, came bolting toward them, coming to stand at her side. Honestly, she was surprised. Even Aaron, the colt who had held feelings for her, had taken his life into his own hands, moving from the Foothills to the Edge. Why was the gray so interested in her? What did it all mean? Nothing, most likely. Ever since seeing the winged mare on the beach with Osiris, Ophelia had promised herself to not think too deeply into the ways of stallions; either she was met with their foolishness or her own.
A protective streak, similar to the one that caused her to run blindly to the wolf's aide, sparked in her heart when Djinn mentioned only protecting him for payment. The sharp look she shot the stallion was nearly hard enough to be lethal, were looks as visceral as knives. "Osiris is a friend and an ally. We aide our own without payment. We aide our friends without payment." Her words were final, firm. Even if the blue-eyed demon disagreed, he knew where she stood. However, his bravery was commendable; he ran to her aide regardless of the obvious danger to his own health. Ophelia allowed her stern look to soften as her gaze worked back to Djinn's demon eyes. "Thank you, though. I did not realize you were following me..." she trailed, brows furrowing. How had he tracked her without her knowing? Usually she was quiet and aware of her surrounding.
When the black snake introduced himself as the artisan of the Throat, Ophelia blinked, struck by the irony. Kri was certainly not judgmental of those she allowed in her herd. The white and crimson mare had discovered that first hand when her identity was stolen and used against her father and sister; even the memory brought anger rising to her throat. "I was once the sleuth for your herd," she replied, letting that little piece of her past be known to Djinn and Osiris - let them think what they would. "Did you replace Prometheus then?" she asked, aware of the fact that a half-dead creature had once forged metal for the Throat.
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