Upon the words of others the mare of alabaster whom had been fading turns back, stepping forth and drawing a stained gaze to her bleached curves. Her body is beautifully curved, the musculature of this foreign woman is quite breath taking, snowy locks fading into a bloodied mess. The fire taints the pure skin, which gratefully accepts the golden light that dances along her bodice. Another woman of ebony, splashed with golden flecks that run along her barrel, tainting her flesh, a step is taken back.

Waiting for many a beat, she finally sees that this alabaster woman has taken notice to her, looking horrified. Heart sinking, the beaut lets loose a frown that twists and distorts her crystalline mask, a moment of hurt flickering through her eyes. Her light gives a soft screech, a low tone, moody one that sounds similar to a wail, their emotions clashing as she begins to stride towards this white mare who calls herself Ophelia. Graceful steps, a short waltz around the blazing bonfire as she finally reaches the woman. "P-please don't look at me like that.." Her words are timid, hushed, blown away by a gentle breeze. "I don't like it..." Worry crossing over her gentle features, eyes softening as she looks into the cerulean and crimson eyes of the white angel, she drops her eyes to her hooves instead of meeting the eyes of his Ophelia. The alabaster had been giving this strange, horrified look at her before, she didn't like it and couldn't bear it. It made her uncomfortable when others did it, looking disgusted, afraid or turning ghastly white with shock while she passed. She could feel the pressure of their estranged gazes breaking her in, crushing her, fracturing her shell and peeling it away to reveal a center of hurt, of despair, one that she wished no one could see.

"You are his Ophelia?" She takes a cautious glance up, eyes pulling away from the earth beneath her precious hooves for but a moment before falling back down to the stony ground. Her words are still hesitant, quiet, and likely this beauty before her was straining to hear her delicate words fall from her cold lips. "He said your name while we lay there," She pauses, voice turning into but a faint whisper, like the wind weaving through the fading leaves, falling into a silent few words. "He was broken, he was hurt." She murmurs, finding herself recalling the way this man fell, this man whom she tried to help but only ended up falling with. Together they had braved a storm, the only word exchanged was but a name, a name that seemed to mean so much to the storm king. She had promised him that she would help him find her, his Ophelia, his angel he called out for when he was weak and broken.

And here was this promise, this piece that he had lost but she had found. She looked at the mare, her heart gently pulsing within her chest, casting a violent red glow along the mare's front. "He seemed to long for you— but do you long for him?" Delicate words are woven with unease, a moment of thought causing her heart to stop. What if she did not want to see him? What if he had been grieving because she was the one who had broken him and left him to pick up the pieces? "If you want to see him, follow me. We shall find him together." There's a faint smile dancing upon her lips as she says the last sentence, a small flicker of something ringing through her voice as she stands before his Ophelia.

"Sweet Lullabies"