Ophelia snorted a little in bitter humor at his words and shook her head a little, tossing her blood stained mane awkwardly over her neck where it did not naturally fall. "You could be here to observe with pursed lips and sorrow like the rest of the group that gathered on the hill," she grunted pointedly, glaring at the spot where Mirage, her father, Xanthos and a few others once were. She sighed heavily and then glanced back at him with apology. "I am sorry; I should not be so bitter. I did not expect to see my father observe the battle only to leave without word." Emotion rose to her throat that was nearly impossible to define all at once, but she swallowed it down quickly and felt it burn to the center of her heart. Tinek interjected and waved at the distracted unicorn, and Ophelia furrowed her brows when she saw a scowl cross his features.
Was he looking at her injuries or her dragon? She could not exactly tell. Though, she did not blame him for his distaste of dragons, especially not with the burns he had sported in that cave. Memories of Tor came flooding back - their first meeting. Anger flooded behind her eyes like fire at the thought of the mousy spotted mare and her lying, hateful heart. Being abandoned seemed to be a common theme in her life now, and she wondered if Mauja would do the same. So far, he existed in her history and present as a curiosity - an unknown variable to an equation with no answers. What did he want? She was not the most stable creature, and certainly not a queen fit for the Frostheart. Psyche the DarkEmpress fit that role much more easily.
The silver dragon managed to catch Mauja's crooked grin and that was enough recognition for the moment. Tinek, tired like a child who had been running too long outside, fell asleep almost instantly on her hip, crimson eyes shut to the world. Ophelia envied his ability to sleep so easily and so completely. Whether it be dreams or sounds, Phi never seemed able to rest for long, and she figured that was another reason why exhaustion seemed to creep up her muscles like poison. Her suspicions were confirmed. Tinek had dragged the Frostheart here to watch her merry band of misfits obliterate what remained of the Foothills, and she now realized that he must have been scowling at her injuries since he smiled at her dragon. Some of the ice melted around her heart, if only a little. She kept it locked away tightly, never allowing it to see daylight and hurt her again, but oh, the beating organ desired another.
The alabaster mare grunted at Mauja's comforting words, wishing she could believe that her victory was solid. She grimaced slightly. "Thank you," she managed. "I am... I am proud, yes, but at the same time, I loathe Jackal for not showing up. When I knew him as a child, I did not expect this kind of behavior; I thought better of him." Ophelia cast an uncertain glance in the direction of Mauja, not wanting to send his spirits in a cascading spiral along with her own. The stallion took a step closer to her and abruptly stopped, but Ophelia did not react. She did not entirely know why. Something about having her memory be in rather flawless form shoved out most instincts and social graces.
Never let her herd lose alone. She heard the way his voice hardened and saw the ice in his eyes become even more frosty. Ophelia did not blame him for still aching over loss of the Edge. Though she would give her right hoof to belong to a land as beautiful and perfect as the Aurora Basin, the bitterness of loss could taint even the most stunning of gifts. "You are right." She said quietly, looking out over the sunny Foothills. The light hit droplets of blood like shimmering garnets, turning the heartache of war into a display of beauty. "I have been to the Aurora Basin; it's lovely. You must be very proud."
Exhaustion came creeping again, and she opened her mouth to admit that she was tired, the words meaning more than just the need of sleep. The deep rumble of his voice relaxed her, and the words came to her ears as if underwater. "It's okay." To be weak, exhausted, lonely, abandoned, forgotten, and criticized was okay; those emotions were not a curse. She was no longer able to sustain herself, no longer able to keep her eyes open without reeling. A dark shadow hid her from the world when is taller figure blocked the light, a soft, familiar muzzle on her neck. The sensations of their dream were all too real, and her memories told her that this was not an unknown event. Ophelia shifted to rest the side of her face against his neck, her weight moving to favor her injured hind leg. For a moment, if only that long, she allowed herself to trust. Phi shut out her senses, letting the warmth of his body soothe her mind into oblivion.
Moments passed. Time was irrelevant. Eventually, her dual colored eyes flickered open once more, realizing what she had done in her weakness. Cautiously, she tilted her delicately crafted, pale face to look into his. "Do you remember... that dream?" She asked with furrowed brows, hesitance on her chime-like voice.
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