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05-31-2014, 12:24 PM
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Ophelia the Forsaken
Ophelia wasn't feeling much of anything, her hollow laugh echoing around the emptiness of her quickly blackened heart. She felt dead inside at vocalization of her lack of love for the father of her child, and what surprised her was how that hate did not at all taint her feelings about Roskuld. Everything she felt for that child was pure, even her regret. So, when he arched his larger neck to hook over hers and pull her close, she stiffened. Affection was not the correct response to the wicked bitterness she had just displayed. She did not deserve the love and tenderness he was given when she had admitted hatred to another - not even a single kind word spoken in the god's defense. Ophelia blinked, surprised, and finally relaxed for a moment in her confusion. He felt strong against her, the weight of his neck and the wetness of his hair comfortable against her more slender crest. When he finally let her go, she cleared her throat and shuffled a little. If she had been able to blush, she would have. As she reflected, she realized that the touch had been comforting, but as always, Ophelia was simply awkward. She raised a brow at him curiously. "Title?" she asked. The speak of his capture made her frown and shake her head. "Cowards," she grunted, referring to them threatening to hurt the tiny, feathered griffin. The Basin shifted? IN what way? Ophelia was curious as she looked up at him, thinking that, perhaps, her aunt deserved a visit. Little did she know she would not find Psyche there anymore. "What shifting?" |
 Undertow has come to take me. Guided by the blazing sun. Look at everything around us. Look at everything we've done. Please. Anyone. I don't think I can save myself. I'm drowning. |
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