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I HAVE BURNED MY TOMORROWS, AND I STAND INSIDE TODAY
At the edge of the future, and my dreams all fade away
At the same moment the painted mare lifted her head and opened clear blue eyes, Ophelia turned her gaze over her shoulder, seeing the chestnut mare who joined them with a sob. The alabaster mare had shed too many tears over the Sun God, and her heart was hardened against such emotion. Perhaps, only a few weeks earlier, she would have felt the same heartache, but not now. Not after how the Sun God had abandoned her, hating her for realizing that his gift was a curse. Ophelia had no words to comfort the equine, as she had barely reconciled her own hate. She was not in a place to offer advice, but perhaps her presence would be enough.
Ophelia realized then that she recognized the painted mare from the Dragon's Throat. Vaguely the term "shaman" seemed to apply, but she has never met the sky-eyed pegasus before - only watched from afar. The chestnut equine was entirely foreign to her eyes, but no longer would she be forgotten. Nothing that passed before Ophelia's eyes was ever lost; forever, they lived in her mind. She nodded to the weeping chestnut, though her expression remained mildly sympathetic; Ophelia was not in an emotional state to allow the tender shell around her heart to crack.
What surprised her then was the presence of a god, and not one she had seen before. A black and white swirling face on a smaller, muscular figure moved from behind the broken monuments of stone, and she narrowed her dual colored gaze curiously. The words that moved from his mouth and the joy of his expression was rude and brusque, and the white mare stiffened. His final dig was at her; the Sun God was not here because he promised to never meet her ever again. His fiery brother was avoiding her in his own selfish fit of ancient immaturity. Ophelia clenched her jaws, ears tilting to the side as she lifted her neck, defensive.
When the painted mare rose at her side, she angled herself slightly in an offensive position, willing to protect the pegasus should this strange god prove to be more of a terror than he already was in words. Ophelia listened to her pleas until the mention of Mauja. Her white brows furrowed over dual colored eyes, recalling memories that were barely her own. The spotted stallion who had once complained that her body would be a nuisance to move if she died had met her in the cave, needed reality and comfort. Mauja had been stuck in a dimension that she had only reached in her dreams, and Ophelia had vowed to help him; apparently the paint had done so as well.
Normal mares might, perhaps, feel jealousy, but not Ophelia. She had no claim on the Frostheart, no ties to his emotions. When in her dreams, the king had been pleasant, open, and she had desperately wanted to comfort him. Who was he now? Was he the same king of hate as before? The one who was only stopped from murder on threat of death? Or was he the open, kind hearted soul who was as conflicted as he appeared in her dreams. Either way, she had made a promise, and she turned her gaze back to the strange god.
"I too promised Mauja that I would do all in my power to free him from the dreamworld," she murmured quietly, voice like chimes. "If you have a task that need be done for his return, I will do so without complaint or comment." Ophelia offered a kind and sad smiled that barely reached her eyes to the painted mare, pleased that she was not the only one who was willing to move farther than comfort to help others. Instantly, Phi found that she had much in common with the winged one's open and loving heart, and she was not too broken to shy away from such a beautiful soul.
The chestnut was not forgotten, and Ophelia turned her head, nodded in effort for her to move closer. She was just as much a part of this now as herself and the pegasus. She had wandered beyond comfort to be ignored by gods, one of whom was standing here, waiting to be questioned.
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shelter for the forlorn. [open]
