Ophelia did not know who she had been before on the inside, but from the pieces she had gathered, she knew now that asking to forget things was a poor idea. After waking up so blissfully happy to be rudely awakened by distraught faces, sorrowful expressions, and pitying comments was one of the worse fates she could imagine. All she was after leaving the veins was a naive, pure, and care-free soul, and now? She felt more broken than if she had all of her memories. What was torture was not knowing who was telling her the truth. Everything she had seen since the veins was permanently written in her perfect memories, so she knew that somewhere hidden, Ophelia had absolute truth. Trusting others at their word without corroboration or history was not only difficult, but nearly impossible after being burned by her lack of knowledge. All she could do was stumble through the shrapnel of her life and desperately fit them back together to reform the bomb shell that was her past.
What scared her the most is why she had accepted to the erasing of her memories. What dark secrets and horrors lay behind the white curtain of her mind? What darkness was she trying to hide?
Odd now, as she had to think of her past self as an unknown, another being who had resided in her body. Would they be the same? Was she the same being? Who was the girl whom all these creatures knew? She seemed to have made a positive impact, but why drown out the past? Nothing fit into place. Nothing worked. Ophelia was stuck between living a new life and the life of the other girl, trapped in the same body and unable to shake what other's remembered.
An entire half of spring had passed as she rediscovered herself, and she had no one. Everyone remembered the other Phi, not her. She had a stallion who could tell her about her past, a sister who seemed more angry than sad at her state, and a slew of other faces and names she just now had a chance to put together. A silver dragon followed her around singing songs of sorrow, and she could tell no one about what happened lest she put herself in danger. Ophelia had no one. The isolation, normally such a comfort, was now a prison. She did not choose to be remembered. She did not have a shoulder on which to lean, a heart on which to rest her thoughts, or a mind on which to whisper her troubles. And, while she would never want to burden another with the disaster that is her life, the fact that she was completely alone in a world who knew her as someone else was even more lonely than being alone.
As she hesitantly looked up into her dream-stallion's golden orbs, she furrowed her brows, awaiting the inevitable disappointment - the silent judgement at the fact that she had brought his on herself. But, no accusation fell upon her ears. Brows furrowed deeply in confusion when he told her not to worry. When he moved closer, his ashen muzzle nearly brushing against her own, she was surprised into inaction, confused. Was he not disappointed in her choices? Was he not angered by the fact that her inability to remember was her own damn fault? Ophelia blamed herself for the pain she had placed in other's hearts, but he did not?
The golden light was nearly as warm as the heat that moved off of his body, and she mused that she could now feel him as if he were real. What sort of magic was this? "I wish you could be happy again. With, or without, your memories." The sincerity in his golden orbs, etched upon the planes of his masculine face was undeniable. Could she allow herself to be weak? Could she show him how torn she felt? How alone? Could she use him for comfort, to ease the guilt and sorrow that she carried dutifully upon her heart? Would she be cheating the others she had hurt by allowing her own suffering to be eased? Could she be selfish? Would it be more selfish to deny his comfort? Something held her back, forced her to second guess her choices as if she had been hurt before; a remnant of a forgotten past?
Is any of this real?
Closing her eyes to calm the raging storm in her head, she pushed her own grey muzzle to his, breathing in the scent of his greeting and feeling the anxious thrum in her chest settle. She allowed her shoulder to rest against his, the warmth of his skin seeping into her cooler body. In his shadow, she hid from her own thoughts, white lashes resting on her cheek, and breathing quiet. A wall she had built to keep herself inside as well as others out was beginning to thin, and his words, spoken with thick emotion, echoed in her soul. Though Ophelia was neither particularly beautiful nor astoundingly strong, she was a loyal friend. "If I can do anything to bring you back, I will," she promised him quietly, slowly opening dual colored eyes that were almost frighteningly firm in their sincerity. "You have my word that I will not rest until you can be in my world again, and not just in my dreams."
Just as he had comforted her, she returned the gesture, lifting her muzzle in an effort to softly brush his spotted cheek. Her pain, shame and sadness was pushed aside in every attempt to aide those who needed her. Ophelia would have made a wonderful and poor healer; she would kill herself to help others. Perhaps she was fortunate that she had not chosen that path, but rather one of mental invisibility and knowledge. "You are kind to wish my happiness, but I accepted the erasing of my memories for a reason - only to be faced with a new sorrow. By some cruel fate or unknown sleight of mine against the gods, I am meant to live in this manner." A soft, sad smile crossed her lips, eyes open and kind, though always tainted with the burden of her choices. "You should not trouble yourself with the rain cloud that thunders in my wake." She ended her statement as an attempt at a joke, though the content was more depressing than humorous.
[OOC: Late and long winded Phi post O_____O so sorry! ]
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