Ophelia waited patiently for a reply, her eyes wandering to the creek running through the center of the grassy hills. The blood on her body was thick and cracking, and she wanted to wash away the red from her figure. However, some of the red was inherent, it resided in her soul and manifested at the ends of her pale hair. The crimson was rebellious, a sign of a taint and a metaphor for the paths that now forked before her life. Inside, the mare held all the promise for darkness. She could be a dark queen of wickedness and violence, and a power or reckoning. Yet another path, illuminated by light, shone brightly alone her life. Still, she could choose to follow a destiny of helping and kindness, much like who she was as a child. Right now, she was truly the Grey, stagnant in the middle of light and dark with no impetus to push her to either side.
Oh, how she longed for sleep and the clarity it brought to her weary mind.
How could you leave? The same way she left Isilme so long ago - by force. She could have chosen to stay and her bones would have been scattered across the Tides by the darkness and shades that overwhelmed her old home in a shadow that still had yet to lift. Instead, she ran. Ties to the earth itself only allowed for heartbreak. The land did not give a damn how much you cared for a tree or rock, or the subtle horizon of familiar landscape. Even now, the Foothills did not mourn - the grassy fields accepted the Grey like brothers and sisters, and just as fickle, it would reject them when the time came.
The choice to stay resided with who was there to accept you with open arms. The choice remain was to belong to a group that you once fought, and that was no simple task to the heart of a warrior. Ophelia guessed that this was why Paladin had left the Foothills as soon as her and her brethren had crossed its borders with the intent of war. She did not blame her father. She knew that his soul followed a code unique to his long history, and to change that would be to change him.
"Do you know who we are?" she asked, dual colored eyes returning to reality and settling on Ailith's magenta ones. "I cannot deny that you are a capable fighter and we would be fortunate to have you as we do Locket, but to join would be to accept who we are and what we do. Many cannot, and that is of no ones fault - they need to follow their hearts and code." Ophelia paused. "We are a band of mercenaries and spies, a neutral group with no alliances and promises. To belong to us is to belong to only us."
The alabaster mare paused, watching curiously. "Can you accept that?"
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