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Ophelia watched the fat, encumbered mare waddle her direction, the show of indifference dramatic and petulant. The pale princess waited, white, delicate ears folded tightly along her neck with a single brow raised in dark amusement at the show. After some time of waiting for the bloat to close the distance, she turned her gaze to other fascinations – like the fact that the sun was fast rising in the sky with each passing second – possibly minute if the “World Eater” kept up this lazy display. Certainly such a form needed no more grass, she thought bitterly, keeping her teeth firmly pressed lest such foolish words tumble ignorantly out of her mouth. Obviously the mare had no well spun insults formulated for being demanded and thus had to be defiant through other means – much like a child after losing an argument and dragging his hooves after mother.
Details emerged on her approach which were utterly revolting, mainly the dribble of sickly slime gathered in her whiskers and pouring from her maw. Ophelia curled her lips back in disdain, giving her opponent crude once over and finding little to fear. The taller mare appeared half-blind, scarred and reeking of illness, all together an unbecoming picture. She wondered how this creature had ever tried to rage against the might of the unified unicorns, but the answer was rather simple –arrogance. Ah, but arrogance has nothing to do with greatness. Arrogance was a gilded ship with a critical leak on a sea, soon shipwrecked by the laughter of gods.
Adrenaline, heightened senses and tension of one thousand voices ringing in her ears all faded into a single, dull note that sang only one word over and over again: unimpressed. The recollection of winning the herd from Jackal and his pointed absence from the war were filled with similar feelings. Disappointment. Unimpressed. Underwhelmed. The synonyms were many and dull. Confutatis’ cold gaze rested upon one that was stony and unmoved. Ophelia’s mind had given over instincts for memory since birth, and while this caused many issues in her past, mainly culminating in near death, in this case, she was almost pleased. Fear did not once tickle in her mind, and her objectivity (and disgust, perhaps) were powerfully written in the firm posture of her lithe, muscular figure and the wrinkled expression on her lovely, feminine face. A fuzzy creature followed in her wake, the other’s presence sending the scaled silver from his skyward perch, down.
Tinek pulled his wings in, snapping them open moments before impact with Ophelia’s armored back, landing with surprising grace given his size. He was at the apex of his life, a royal with wisdom and power, tied in a loving, soft embrace with Ophelia’s deep and tragic mind. The silver would protect her with his life, guard her as she had done for him, but her life was hers to command as was his. Their symbiosis was exquisite, brimming with life and affection which only two sharing halves of the same soul could possess.
The mare spoke, and Ophelia raised a disbelieving brow, expression twisting in mock amusement. A single, harsh laugh bellowed from her delicate maw. She was an elegant shield-maiden, radiant, temperate, powerful and vengeful at once – a potent combination for such a woman. Her life was lived as a spy and a mercenary, dark, cunning and lethal intentions well concealed by such a flawless and effete exterior. “Aahh Confutatis,” she laughed. “Hah! Do not play that game of ‘pity the poor pregnant mare’ with me; I know what children really mean to you…” The babes of the white, antlered mare would no doubt hold trauma their entire lives over her cruelty. Ophelia rolled her strange, dual colored eyes with impudence.
“Sure,” she replied flatly. “Regale me with your tales of grandeur.” The white mare’s eerie gaze bored into that of her opponent, wrapping her mind around the other’s thoughts to read for truth. Memory, though often faulty and tainted with lingering emotions (in others anyway), would be more honest than any bile leaking from the coordination of her tongue. Standing, waiting for lies from this creature was not a test of patience but a test of will. Two bloodlines stood head to head, but blood, like arrogance, did not ensure greatness. The two were foundations of sand, only part of the necessities to build a solid house. Accomplishments were stone.
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[[(Intro) (0/3 posts)]]
OPHELIA
Faith shattered and decays as frosted blood flows in my veins
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This is not a game [Confutatis Challenge]
