"Where brilliance is good and madness is better..."
Helovia Info
Helovia opened in February 2012! We are an active fantasy equine RPG
Where once the world narrowed into naught but gray dust and desolation, the gods called for life. Wielding the elements of fire and light, dark and wind, earth and water, spark and time, they have created Helovia. The realm is set within the mythical globe of Loorien, a planet rich with all variety of creatures and blessed with all manner of magic. Originally populated by nomadic, tribal characters, they've since grown into massive empires saturated with culture and history. Separated into four distinct segments of Helovia, called "The Regions," each band of horse strong enough and capable enough, took up the power and responsibility of leadership. Unicorns, old, wise and mysterious, took to the north, hidden in forests of mists and shadows and rarely making themselves known beyond their cliffs of the World's Edge. Equines, vast, organized and militaristic, split into two, one group went north to the Windtossed Foothills and the other group went south to the Dragon's Throat. Pegasus remained nomadic, making their homes in various parts of The Wilds in a migratory manner. For many generations, the land was peaceful and calm, but peace was never the way of the gods. With a clash of argument, war and bloodshed massacred Helovia, and in the aftermath, the realm was eerily quiet. Now, as newcomers sweep into this land, they are met with the lingering bitterness of the gods and the struggle to reclaim what was lost. Nothing remains safe or certain while sorcerers and soldiers alike brood and bide their time for revenge, honor and glory.
Site Wide Plots
Kaos :: The Beginning of the End ☼ - 6/2017 - Kaos placed Helovia in a time-bubble for a short period of time, but the Helovian gods are fighting back. But Kaos is powerful- far more powerful than anyone thought. This may be the beginning of the end of Helovia as we know it.
Kisamoa :: A New Kind of Kaos ☼ - 3/2017 - Kisamoa asks Helovians to help him restore the Spectral Marsh. Which side will you choose?
Invasions :: All Out War ☼ - 5/2/16 - New layout and the brand new invasion rules are up! Thank you for your patience and we look forward to getting started with this new adventure.
The Rift :: Gods Do Die ☼ - 8/2015 - Helovia Gods are saving the Rift from corrupt gods! Can Helovians band together against these foreign deities?
The Literal Ship ☼ - 2/8/15 - Oh no! You have to pair up for Valentine's day!
Sky Island :: Murder ☼ - 10/25/14 - Vesta has been found dead on the island, and the gods have called to you to solve the murder!
Sky Island :: Peace ☼ - 7/7/14 - An island has appeared in the sky! Clouds carry Helovians from the Veins to the sky.
Restoration :: We Welcome the Dawn ☼ - 9/21/13 - The sun has finally risen on this day, giving the land new light, but the Time God and the Sun God have yet to be seen.
Endless Night :: Broken Magic Plot ☼ - 8/30/13 - The earth god has returned and is walking across Helovia to heal the land. Every area can now be considered lush and prosperous, but the sun has still not risen.
☼ - 7/19/13 - The moon has risen in the sky, heralding the return of the Goddess of the moon. Lamp trees which light the paths have grown brighter, moon flowers which grow in dark places have begun to grow and prosper and the world is brighter, filled with a new hope.
Endless Night :: Dead Magic Plot ☼ - 6/22/13 - The gods of Helovia, in order to protect the world, have disappeared into the rift, leaving the world sunless, moonless and magic-less in their absence. Only the herdlands have a source of light, but lamp-trees with glowing leaves and branches sporadically line the popular roads and paths from place to place.
Doppleganger Plot ☼ - 6/20/13 - The God of Time is still struggling to close the rift though which the dopplegangers have come. He has requested that his brothers and sister assist in closing this hole, but without knowing why it opened, the task is proving difficult. Magic still remains faulty and hard to control, but the herdlands continue to be places of refuge for those who are fortunate enough to call these lands home.
ORANGEMOON cools off the lands with a a viscious force. Colder than normal, a sign of things to come during Frostfall, Helovia is bathed in a rich tropical lushness - albiet a cold one. The coastlines of the Dragon's Throat are pelted constantly by tidal waves, and the desert climate is humid but chilly. Ice begins to form early in the Aurora Basin leaving the winding trails slick and dangerous. The mists of the World's Edge coat everything in a glistening crystalline shine which encourages mould to grow everywhere. The Spectral Marsh is the only area which remains fertile, blissfully temperature and lush.
Cotm
Character of the Month for
June, 2017
WEAVER, Corporal of the Aurora Basin, is a relatively recent addition to Helovia and has taken it by storm. Branded with the seal of Death on her chest, intrigue and interest follow both her past and present. Though she is assuredly beautiful, her sometimes sharp personality reveals that there is more to this uni-peg hybrid than meets the eye. Proving herself able on the battlefield in the Basin’s warrior ranks, we can’t wait to see her test her mettle against the looming Kaos happenings! Congratulations!
Helovia RPG was created by Tamme and Blu and coded by Tamme also known as Schwartze. All coding, palettes and imagery are copyrighted to the website and are not for use outside of Helovia. Thank you to our ServerMaster for hosting Helovia. A special thanks goes to Neo for all of her coding help and fixing Tamme's errors, Boom, for her loyal service and creation of the Time God, and to Ali for her consistent contributions and dedication.
Hector was bemused by the behaviour of the flamboyantly clothed mare as she spoke with such disregard. He was not one to trouble himself in the affairs of others though (especially one who seemed neither to be a follower of the Sun, nor a lover of the desert...), and turned from her after a brief moment spent watching, to wait. He couldn’t help but wonder if it wasn’t better for her to remain apart from his home anyway- she seemed haughty, uncooperative.
Soon enough the God of the Sun was done with her, and when He turned Hector was waiting with a staunch, dutiful rusty-red smile tracing his lips. Small cups pricked to the tune of His smooth voice, the proud hum of it wiping clear the uncertainty from his mind, and sparkling red eyes ignited with simple delight. To think, soon he would be wielding fiercely flames in the face of their foes; for a moment he glanced to admire the God’s molten mane as it looked to danced to the rhythm of his movement. The soldier nodded, still silent though, as his Lord went on.
Find my purpose again... It sounded straightforward, but Hector knew already how his mind squirmed with aimlessness and indecision- he sighed, trusting that such a quest was only for the best. How could he value the perfect path if he’d not fought for it himself- he understood the concept ‘no gain without pain’, and also that those who’d once filled his heart with encouragement were long gone. After a second’s consideration the stallion rolled forward his burly shoulders boldly- Hector had nothing to lose.
"I will. Thank you..." he responded reverentially, dipping his copper skull in due respect. Already the insight had provoked a wild scramble of thoughts, and as the hybrid parted from the few still gathered around the God of the Sun, he felt completely overwhelmed. Perhaps he would seek further guidance (just a little) by one known better for their philosophical mind than he. Thank you.
• Dragon's Throat Rank Experience: Fortify | Level 3
• Permission given for moderate power play, magical influence and damage at all times
Ophelia watched as the self-confident mare with the difficult task and Hector, the warrior, left the scene, leaving her, the Sun God, and this colt alone. She did not know his name, having never heard it spoken before, but she did recognize him from their initial meeting. Having an eidetic memory was interesting in that regard, and quite useful in these situations. However, having her mind stuffed to the bring with countless snippets of information was taxing.
Curiously, she watched as he set down an egg, her eyes sparkling. Tinek, believing the egg to hold a dragon, as he knew nothing else, crawled forward, observing it carefully, sniffing at the air around the shell. When he regarded the God of the Sun first, she took no offense. Were she in his position, she would give the god the same amount of respect over any other mortal. But, what did he want to know? Why single her out after one rare encounter?
She listened to the boy introduce himself, and now she had a name to go with the face. He seemed unsettling, too nervous to speak perhaps? And, she watched the way his eyes darted between herself and the god. Ophelia looked over her shoulder to smile kindly at the god before stepping gently in front of him, commanding the boy's attention with a subtle shift of her form. The pale princess leaned down, her keen, strange eyes encouraging him to loosen his lips.
When he started to speak, her full attention was devoted to the boy, listening carefully to his concerns. Ophelia tilted her head to the side as she thought about her eyes. The mare had only seen her reflection a handful of times, and she rarely regarded herself. She was not vain and did not understand the natural beauty she possessed. In a way, she maintained some innocence in her modesty. Did the eye color mean something? Most likely not...
"I am not sure if the eye color means something specifically," she said quietly. "One of my eyes is from my father and one from my mother, but my twin sister of the same blood only has my father's eyes. My nephew and my daughter both have the same colored eyes," she mused aloud. "I would suggest that it was an indication of dual blood, but my sister is as I am, and she has the same eye color. Perhaps then, we are simply different."
Fix himself? The question disturbed her soul the same way she was disturbed when Mesec's father had said that the boy was unworthy. She snorted indignantly, shaking her head at his apology. "Why do you think you need to fix yourself?" she asked quietly, her gaze pointed. "Who I see before me is a brave an independent young stallion willing to face the gods and is fortunate enough to care for an egg."
Ophelia knew though that even she wanted to be fixed when she was younger. How long has she walked the line between equine and unicorn? Queen and vagrant? Good and evil? Light and darkness? Her life was a duality of natures, and she was constantly having to live in the gray area between the lines. Often, that caused her to feel as if she truly did not belong. The violence in her blood warred with the compassion in her heart. She belonged with the unicorns but was not pure for the Basin. She belonged to the God of Sun and the God of time both, torn between them.
She sighed. "We all live with two natures in our hearts, even those of two bloods. You can choose a side, or you can live as I do, a free agent, never crossing the line of two species or light and dark. Always, there is the space between, a gray area in which there is clarity and understanding. Whichever you choose is entirely up to you."
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.
07-27-2014, 03:31 PM (This post was last modified: 07-27-2014, 03:31 PM by Adelric.)
The half-child, his question asked, prepares himself for beratement or worse. It is in his nature to assume that nobody likes him until he changes their mind; certainly he has done nothing to change her mind with his questions and nervous demeanor. But in contrast to the long time it took him to decide on his words and then voice them, the pretty white mare has an answer for him right away. The Sun God is never forgotten, but Adelric pays devout attention to Ophelia as she speaks, ears fixated only on her. It seems to him, for some reason, that her words are the most important thing he has ever heard. He must know what they are, drink them in, remember them... He does not even know her, but knowing that they share something in common makes him believe that she must be trustworthy. Perhaps the cruel world will change this about him someday, but for now he is still young of heart and mind.
Her lesson on genetics wanders into his thoughtful mind and he begins to wonder sees the images in his head as she speaks. Her father, with either crimson or blue eyes (he does not know)- her sister with a complete set of only one color. Her nephew and daughter, also with same colored eyes. But then she speaks of dual blood and he is almost shocked. Her, so perfect and whole as she seems on the outside, is as broken as he is on the inside? Or at least he thinks so. Young as he is, he knows nothing of shattered hearts and shattered souls but he thinks he does because he feels so alone. Her statement that they are simply different just makes him frown. He does not want to be different. He wants to be liked, to be accepted... to be different is to be outcast and pushed aside. This is one thing he has learned already in his young life.
But then she asks him a question in return and he shifts uncomfortably. To speak of his failures, his shortcomings, would shatter whatever image she has in her head of him that makes her think he is whole and brave- he is neither. Nor does he know what implications having an egg has- he knows not what he carries. Still, he cannot help but answer her. He is only a child and he has been asked a question- he must respond. “My father, I think it was my father, was at birth but I have never seen him again. One of my mothers left me and took one of my sisters. My other mother is sad all of the time. My sister tolerates me, but I do not think she actually likes me and my mother brought home a new sister that she found somewhere in a field.” He has always considered Delinne one of his mothers- she was there at his birth after all. “It must be me that makes these things happen, so I need to fix myself.” he concludes gravely. He is too young to have started shouldering the troubles of the world, but his age has not stopped him.
There are many more troubles he has shouldered as well and does not speak of. Even her sigh, as she continues to speak, makes him feel like he has done something wrong. She is sad because she has had to explain something to him, though he is very interested in her words. Truth be told he walks as many lines as Ophelia does, between two mutually exclusive ideas, but he is too young to have learned to be comfortable in the gray area that she soon assures him exists. And though he has a thoughtful mind, predisposed to wander in thought and categorization, everything she has said has bigger implications than he can imagine at this moment. He has no worthy or thought-provoking response, so instead he says what comes to mind- “My mother has no horn.”
He does not know if it is relevant, or necessary, but maybe it will make her like him some more as he is still convinced she does not care for him as more than an inconvenience in her life. “Thank you,” he says then, but he is distracted now, trying to ponder and consider, wavering back and forth between ideas and wondering what it would be like to stand in this gray area she speaks of instead of either side. It is much to consider for a child his age, but he has all the time in the world and is willing to entertain the ideas. With a final nod to the alabaster queen and the Sun God over her shoulder, he gathers his egg back up in the mossy sling and begins to totter off. He does not want to waste more of her time nor upset her any more with her presence, so he retreats to whence he came, prepared to lie in the shadows and consider what he has heard.
Ophelia watches him shift before he speaks, and she gazes at him softly, her eyes observing the subtle nuances of his discomfort. The story of his broken family explained so much about his self-doubt, and she shook her head. Though her family was better than most, it was not without its faults. Still, she never once doubted that she was the cause of so many relationship problems, but she rarely was ever around her family to be at fault. The pale princess wondered how to tell him that none of this was his fault, even though it seemed like every step he made was wrong.
"You are not responsible for the trials and tribulations of others," she said softly, firmly. "... Even your parents. There is nothing about you that needs fixing, because no matter how much you change yourself, it will not change others." Ophelia had learned that lesson the hard way and had even allowed others to shape her. That had not ended very well, and the herd she once ran was broken and scattered.
"The only change you must make about yourself is change you want to see. Do you want to be kinder? Do you want to be stronger?" she asked rhetorically. "You can say nice words to those you meet, or you can train yourself physically. But, you are who you are, and that is beautiful, no matter who tells you otherwise."
Phi smiles at his final admission and leans down. "My mother does not have a horn either," she whispers to him with a smile. "But, if I did not have her blood in my veins, Tinek and I never would have bonded and I would only be half of who I am today." At the mention of his name, Tinek chirped and rubbed against Ophelia's leg, much like a cat. She pointed to the egg he had set down earlier. "Perhaps, when it hatches, you too will known yourself better. A bond between a companion is a special connection to cherish and honor, and your companion will show you things about yourself that you never knew."
When he thanked her, she nodded. "I wish words could do more," she murmured honestly. "But, if you need anything, Adelric, do not be afraid to seek me out."
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.
The God listened to this exchange with a sort of...quiet incredulity. Ophelia, if no one else, should understand how narrow and blunt the whims and wishes of her fellow Helovian's could be. How they muttered and mulled about - as the young hybrid was doing. If he couldn't just spit out his questions, why didn't she just take a quick look into his memories, to see what was causing him to linger? Certainly the God did that often enough, when he was called down to his shrine. How many times had the inhabitants of this land let their tongues dance before him, wasting his time, before they finally got to the point? He had found early on that it was much easier to simply read the contents of their minds, than to listen to the wagging of their lips. Ophelia had a similar ability - she could experience the contents of the child's memory if she so chose, so why didn't she? It was these thoughts that lingered in his mind, as the two hybrids spoke. That Ophelia was so patient - that she answered with such a genuine desire to aid the awkward creature - it was puzzling. Why? Why?! Why did she care? Why did she try? After all she had been through, that she wasn't hardened to the needs of others was shocking.
Yet for how different this aspect was of her, compared to the fiery nature of the God, it was part of why he loved her.
The God's head lowered slightly as the colt moved away. His timing was impeccable, for while Ophelia's responses had been intriguing, the child's had been less so. A few more moments and the God might have sent him on his way. The young were so tedious, and this one seemed to need more nurturing than the God was willing to offer. He smelled of the Falls, which was probably for the best. His brother Earth did love to play the fatherly role.
Still the God remained silent; the next moments to come would surely be delicate, and privacy was needed between He and Ophelia.
She appeared to him differently this time.
Before, the stain of her self-centered ways sullied her soul. It permeated and warped its way into everything she did - everything she was. She had lost her luster when she let weakness overcome her. She had become a dull and boring version of herself. Predictable and pretentious. Calling herself the Forsaken, as if her predicament was something to be revered - to be remembered and applauded. But it wasn't. She had taken his gift, and bore its fruit poorly. I have made a mistake, she told him then, and at the time, he had thought he had made the mistake. To ever put his love into a creature who could prove such a disappointment. Who could burn so brilliantly, just to fizzle out into the shadows. To be forsaken; but only because she chose to be. In those moments, he thought that he had made a mistake.
But he had not.
She had endured his wrath in more ways than one, and had nevertheless returned. She had not run to another God as she might have. To use their sibling rivalry and the God's love for Ophelia against him. That was good. That was very good, for it was true that he loved her. Though it might be possible for him to forgive her selfish stupidity, he would never be able to forgive her betrayal. That his brother had been with her had been nearly too much to bear. It was a memory that weighed heavily upon his golden shoulders - one that he would never return to Ophelia; one that he would never allow himself to admit had happened. He had never even allowed himself the opportunity to view that particular memory, telling himself instead that Ophelia had been tricked into the act. It was impossible for him to believe she had entered into it willingly. That she had enjoyed it.
The flames that burned idly on his wings flared up suddenly as a quiet rage boiled within his golden frame. The anger at her disregard for his gift still coiled tightly around his heart, even though he wished he could let it dissipate. To just slip into her mind, pull out the pieces of their history tarnished by this, and return as they were. Even though the God could not erase his own memory, he could certainly bury it. It could just all go away...it could just all...
But it couldn't. His pride couldn't let it, no matter how much he longed for the days when only adoration lingered between the two.
The God peered down at Ophelia, once he was quite sure the hybrid child had gone. Radiant eyes studied her quietly. She had changed - her brief palaver with the child had shown that. But it wasn't enough. "You should not have rescinded my gift to you, Ophelia." He said in a voice hushed with emotion. This was the only chance he would give her. Pride would only allow him this vulnerability once.
The Sun God's question of "why" was one that she had asked herself many, many times before. But, no matter how many trials and tribulations were thrown her way, she persisted. How could she deny the colt who felt the same things she felt as a child, and sometimes still felt? How could she ignore his cries when her soul sang the same? Ophelia was independent, but she also cared far more than she should. The fact that she had raised two children, only one of whom was her own, was a testament to that fact.
Ophelia had called herself the Forsaken not out of any sense of pride, but out of depression. She embodied the name. The title fit her closely. She did not embrace the title so much as she found it bitterly fitting, and she did not try to change the moniker - not when so many knew. No, being the bitch of the gods was not something she was proud of, being hated by them was no feat to be praised, and earning the ire of her friends was deplorable.
She looked over as the flames suddenly flourished on his wings, and she furrowed her brows, taking a step closer. Ophelia was never one to hide from the light or shy from danger, not when those she loved were burning. Placing herself in harm's way was the furthest worry in her mind, and she looked up into his deep, beautiful golden eyes, wishing that she could take the pain away. He did not deserve what his heart harbored, and she would shoulder it if she could, like she shouldered her entire world. One day, it would sink her deep in the snow, but not yet.
When he looked down at her, speaking those words, she stiffened, fear flaring at her nostrils as her chest tightened. What gift was he referring to? He had given her everything, but he had also taken everything. She opened her mouth to speak and quickly shut it, wisely choosing to weigh her words.
"Do you mean removing my memories?" she asked hesitantly, her voice thick with emotion. His gift had not been a gift - not to her. When she had been without her memories, she had insulted a friend, nearly gotten herself killed, hurt her sister, and her favorite, slept with a god and ended up pregnant with his child. How could he mean such a thing when she had fucked up so royally without her history to guide her?
"I made so many mistakes, hurt so many, including you, when I was without my memories," she whispered. "I was not... the happiness was naive bliss, quickly washed away by reality. I cannot live without the knowledge of those I love, without my experiences guiding me down the path of the light. I cannot live without remembering you." Not remembering the God of the Sun had been why she had done what she did with the God of Time. She had no idea who he even was!
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.
He listened stoically, his expression tense. The God's face was a handsome golden mask; perfectly chiseled and impeccably beautiful. Golden eyes burned with a soft expression - the only true display of emotion of his otherwise poised and distant facade. He loved Ophelia. Had he not, he would have been true to his word - forced her to deal with a humble simulacrum of himself for the rest of her days. Then again, if he did not love her, he would not have been so internally torn and extinguished by her actions.
It was his love that had made him hate her.
For decades - centuries - the God had stood fast. He had watched as the lands had evolved from his - and his kin's - own making. Mountains crumbled, oceans rose and evaporated away, but always the sun remained constant. He had always been there, burning and bearing the weight of each passing decade upon his shoulders, sovereign in his solidarity. Even when his siblings had banished him, his mind was afforded no rest. They say there's no rest for the wicked, but there's no rest for the immortal either.
Surely Ophelia had a minute understanding of what the mind of a God must be like - for her own unique memory posed its own array of difficulties for a mortal mind. In that, could she not see the gift he had given her? To release her from those weighty mental bonds? To give her rest? A rest that he could never - nor could anyone - afford himself?
I cannot live without remembering you.
Ah, but there it was. Perhaps Ophelia knew just how to speak to the depths of his heart, knew his vanity, or perhaps she was sincere. Either way, her final phrase spoke volumes about the bond between the two. A bond that, given the briefness of her lifetime in relation to his, he would not sever. Perhaps had she come to him earlier and he had allowed her to stay, with his anger burned too brightly to hear her words truly, he would have let that bond burn. But for now, it was enough.
The God exhaled gently and warmly, turning and lowering his head nearer to her own. The sunlight danced upon the petals of the flowers that were still woven into his mane, even after all this time. And now he was quite sure, that they would remain there until the end of days.
"Alright." He answered finally, his voice soft and gentle. His golden muzzle extended to her pale cheek, gently brushing against it, as if to erase the distance that had come between them. Pulling back, the God sighed as his wings gently shuffled against his flanks.
"There is something else in you, Ophelia." He began, gently reading off the contents of her mind easily, as one might a story book written in large font. It was as if she wished to be a ghost - to be able to remove herself from the minds of others, but also to speak into them directly. Why? Why would she desire such a thing? And so he asked: "Is moving your lips really so irksome Ophelia?" He asked, half in jest. "Why is it you seek such a gift?"
08-11-2014, 12:19 PM (This post was last modified: 08-11-2014, 12:20 PM by Ophelia.)
Ophelia the Forsaken
Ophelia stood tensely, wondering if the brief moments of respite from his wrath would burn away. She felt her heart hammer in her chest as she forced her limbs to remain in place, looking into the churning, passionate orbs of his golden eyes. The desperate churn in her stomach told her that she was weak, needing the god's approval this badly, but he had filled a void in her life. He praised her when her father had not, loved her when she had been left by every man she had shown interest in, and he had loved enough to be hurt by her actions. In all her life, only her sister had shown such honest and raw passion toward her, and she feared letting that go.
Much to her surprise and relief, he spoke the word "alright", and she let out a breath she had not realized she had been holding. Ophelia lowered her neck, loosened the tenseness of her muscles and felt the adrenalin drain from her limbs, pulling her hooves deeper into the ground. When his muzzle pressed against her cheek, she blinked in surprise and quickly turned to face him, a smile on her lips. How long had it been since they had shared innocent brushes of affection?
When he asked her why she wanted her magic and made a joke, she chuckled, the sound like chimes. She shook her head, smiling and leaning her weight on one hip in his direction. Ophelia knew that he, of all creatures, would understand her desire for power, the desire to protect herself from others. Unlike anyone else (except perhaps Ktulu), she knew that the God of the Sun would not judge her for what she wanted - and the sickness it revealed in her soul.
"Being able to speak in another's mind is only the first part," she said quietly, looking at him with open innocent, trust. "I can read their memories, I can experience their lives, and no one can read mine. But, I am powerless in action," she said. "After being attacked and... well... after having my life, I realized that I want security - a power of action. I want to be able to speak into other's minds so that no one can catch me, but eventually, I want to be able to control them with my words.".
For a mare who felt like she had little control in her own life, getting pregnant without knowing, left on the beach by Osiris, attacked without warning... well, the desire for control only made perfect sense. She took a deep breath, her expression hardening, and her eyes gaining a bright sparkle. "I desire control, but I have to first whisper."
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.
Of course the God understood - could read her motives just as easily as her desires. But there was a part of him - the prideful part - that enjoyed hearing her say it. His love for the mare was deliberate, and in moments such as these, Ophelia reinforced to him just why he had made that decision. She was cunning and clever, and her knowledge made her wise and formidable.
"I agree. You must walk before you run - whisper before you shout. But before you do any of those things Ophelia, you must learn to listen. You will receive far less resistance by whispering commands that others think they want to follow - or even better, by making them think it was their own idea. Find three Ophelia, and make a choice for them, that they shall carry out. One that goes against the grain of their character. Importantly, they must do this willingly, and ignorantly. You shall not speak of this quest, or your motives. They shall think their decisions to be their own. But we - " Pausing, a handsome grin parted his golden lips. "-shall know that it's yours. Find three and listen to them - audibly or via their memories. Understand their soul and their minds, and then change it."
Ophelia must find three characters and manipulate them into doing something against their natures. A cold character falling in love, a solitary creature desiring a companion, a brutish creature becoming polished, a healer hurting someone, a passive character fighting, etc.
Ophelia stood and listened quietly, understanding the purpose of what he wanted. He was trying to show her that even without her magic, she had more influence than she believed. While Phi believed that to a degree, she did want the magical insurance of control. The task he gave her was also going to be very difficult, as she was not naturally manipulative. She would have to use all of her cunning and even her mind reading in order to ensure that they did not realize what she was doing.
Very quietly, she bowed her head deeply, to him in reverence. She was still unsure about how she felt regarding his mind change. Part of her was relieved that she never had to worry about him hating her, but another part was admittedly still a little upset. Was she supposed to forget how much he ignored her previously? The memories still stung.
"I understand and will do my best," she replied honestly. "And I will not return until my tasks are complete." Now, she had to travel and immerse herself again. Ophelia let out a deep breath. This was going to be difficult....
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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