"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.
A thousand details ran through her head as she took the slow and lonely walk north. Gusts of icy wind swirled around her body, numbing the burning pains along her side and the gash on her body. Teeth marks still ached on her spine when she walked, the normal, dancing cadence to her gait all but gone. She moved on auto-pilot, not paying attention to where her hooves landed until she ascended the narrow path and walked between the two, metal heralds at their gates.
Ophelia took a deep breath of frost, looking down at the blood dripping on the rocks beneath her hooves. One half of her body was covered in dirt and sand, crimson orb a little bruised. If she looked half as bad as she felt, she would have looked worse. Sleep and heartache called her swiftly down, and she stumbled under the veil of nightfall on the moonless night. Only stars guided her way as she traveled to the steaming hot springs. The little shards of rock that had stuck in her hair and never left glittered in the night. She was a damaged, sparkling star in the black.
The pale princess, not wanting to crawl into the hot waters, groaned as she let her body down near the edge. She stretched two of her front legs out, letting them dangle over the surface as she stared at her reflection.
Freak.
Liars filled this wold, telling her that she was beautiful, worthy. No. She as Forsaken. Not even the gods had enough patience to handle her imperfections. Damaged. Two different colored eyes stared back at her, so strange and bizarre. Tangles marred the hair that hung over her face and draped over the white, spiraled horn. Pain from her injuries throbbed, especially the burns, and she took in a hitching, emotional breath. Unable to take the sight of herself anymore, she closed her eyes and turned away.
Ophelia laid her head to rest on the top of her foreleg, blinking hard. Her heart ached. She ached. She wanted to disappear beneath the surface of this water where the dark would carry her home.
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 anxiety gnawed at Torleik like the decapitated wolf's head attached to that dying deer that had suddenly and horrifyingly interrupted a Basin meeting some months ago. Where was Ophelia? She was gone...and he could not find her. This would not have concerned him were it a day or two she was missing, or perhaps even a few days' time, but this was longer and no one had any information on where she might have disappeared to.
What if she was injured? What if she was out there, somewhere, bleeding to death, and he would be unable to save her?
'Bad worry. Why so dark?' Irelyn asked, trying to discern why her bonded was worried about this pale mare and in such a specific way. Normally he did not let his thoughts dwell on death and dying quite so much.
"I don't know, Irelyn. I just...it feels...wrong," he murmured aloud, pacing back and forth as he did every evening when yet another sun rose and fell and he had yet to see his Lady. They did not...speak as often as he might like, or spend time together like he wished to ask of her, but he always saw her from time to time, floating across whatever surface she ambulated like a beautiful disaster, innocence and blood, life and death, beauty and pain.
Where was she?
Unable to stay still, sleep already snatched from the world this night, the General took to the grounds, his angry, stressed pace devouring ground with every step. He passed the lake, and saw no one. She would not be in the prisons...perhaps the Haruspex cave? Delving deeply for the first time, the Bloodskald found only a strange mirror that reflected nothing as he gazed upon it. The cave was empty save for this and he felt...unnerved and angry. This was how to speak to the Time God? Why would he ever desire to do that? Sneering, he tore himself from the cave and emerged once more into the night sky, looking up, helpless, as the colorful bands of light frolicked across the velvety backdrop. He passed the healer's cave and for a moment, paused. No. He could not entertain that thought any more than he had.
Torleik felt...defeated. Had she left? Why would she leave without saying anything to him? Surely whatever it was they had would warrant a goodbye? Head hung low, his steps took him towards the hot springs, the only place of serenity he found in the Basin - but before he got close, an earthquake destroyed the solid ground of his bond.
'OPHELIA! BLOOD! COME NOW!' The words screeched into his mind and echoed around his skull and Torleik felt nauseated, terrified and numb all at once. Blood? Oh gods. What had happened?
"Please gods help me don't be dead," he moaned, kicking his suddenly ten-ton body into a vicious gallop, his throat slamming shut when Ophelia's prostrate form came into view. "NO!" The word tore itself from him, clawing its way out of his throat, everything raw and painful now. No -
why -
this wasn't happening -
he couldn't lose someone else -
please -
no please gods please no -
But she was breathing. Blinking. He skidded to an ungainly stop just a few feet away and drew close, not willing to believe that his eyes were telling him she was alive and still with him. "Ophelia my god speak to me," he begged, shifting and coming around to the direction she was facing, dropping low, eyes darting everywhere to assess her injuries. "What happened? Who did this? I will fucking bleed them dry and break every bone they have," the Bloodskald snarled, the vicious hate that suddenly erupted inside taking him back to how helplessly raging and vengeful he'd felt when the Pegasi destroyed his home.
That didn't matter now. What mattered now was getting her help. "You need a healer, right now - I will get Lena!" he managed urgently, his voice strained, head snapping up to gaze back towards the medic's cave. Would Lena be there? Did she bed elsewhere? If she did, how long would it take to find her?
01-13-2015, 05:39 PM (This post was last modified: 01-13-2015, 05:39 PM by Ophelia.)
Ophelia felt the rumbling thunder of hooves in her belly which rested on the ground. The approaching thuds rattled in her chest and across her bones like a storm, and she was waiting to drown. Two, delicate eyes opened as she noise came crashing to a halt so near, and she felt as if she were in a fog, looking up across the surface of the hotspring in which her forelegs dangled and meeting his worried, blue eyes in confusion. Pain from her injuries was clouding her mind as his voice became clearer.
She took a deep breath, aching against the strain of her ribs. Speak to me he said. Her ears tilted forward, and she blinked, listening to his rage and trying to check back in to reality with weights trying to drag her back down. Fighting for the surface again, she simply breathed, focusing on the deep tones of his voice, on his worry, on his emotion. His breath was a ship, compassion was her rope, and she clung to them for her very life as he brought her back to shore.
Lena? No... Ophelia shook her head lightly, still unwilling to rise. Her body remained crumpled by the spring, but she lifted her neck to gaze up at the strong, demon stallion in front of her, watching the way his face lined with worry, wrinkling around the corners of his eyes. The wind caught every strand of his beard, moonlight dancing on the silver hairs and flirting with them in a seductive way. He was everything she was not and everything she needed.
"No," she said quietly. "Do not get Lena. Just... just stay..." she whispered. Ophelia was hurt enough to be selfish now, to forget all the times she had crushed others beneath the weight of her words and stare and just take. That was what he said before, right? Sometimes, you have to take. She prayed that he meant what he said. "They... they are surface wounds..." she explained, not wanting to look at the burn mark on her side.
White breath whispered past her lips as she exhaled, like smoke. "I was... I was on the island," she explained. "I was trying to spar and organize what was going on there..." she trailed. "Also, the murders that have been happening seemed centered around that damn rock in the sky." Ophelia blinked, frowning and turning away. Telling him her shame would be so difficult. Rocks started to form in her stomach, and her tongue went dry.
"I stood, waiting to spar to pass the time. My skills in battle are... few." She grimaced. "Mauja showed up after having disappeared for so long, and he... he had the nerve to ask me to dance. I attacked him." Ophelia had to avert her gaze, unable to bear the weight of his gaze and judgment as she admitted her defeat. "I lost. I wanted so badly to win, to defeat him, to defeat my fears..." she trailed off, voice wavering ever so slightly with emotion.
"My magic does not work against him, and there was only so much Tinek could do. I failed."
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.
Her ears flicked, head lifting and it shook. No? No what? Torleik was about to demand what she meant, time of the essence, but her soft voice slipped out of her lips in a whisper, begging of him something he never thought he'd hear.
"Just...just stay..."
Stay? Where in the rest of this forsaken land would he ever want to go but where she was? Ophelia claimed they were surface wounds and though the Bloodskald found that she was mostly correct, he knew she lied. The broken skin, the burned flesh, the cracks and pain of her body - those were surface wounds. But he had never seen her so shattered, so burdened down that she could not rise from the ground. Even in the face of her mother's death she had been strong.
These were not surface wounds. These were soul screams, cuts to the heart.
He would hate whoever did this to her until he drew his last breath and make them pay at every turn, the Bloodskald vowed, the rage in his breast black and dirty. Even a good man could wish ill in his heart; for the general it was rare, but this was unforgivable. So he slowly, gently sank to the ground beside her, lightly pressing his muzzle to an unmarred section of her beautiful, slender neck, breathing in her scent mingled with blood and sweat and the smell of the hot springs as she continued on.
Each word was a soft vibration thrumming the pain he felt inside for her, stirring the hate in his breast for her attacker. And then his hate sublimated on a name, coalescing into a picture: Mauja.
He knew Mauja.
He'd met the bastard once, found him in the Threshold if he remembered, observed more than anything else. Torleik hadn't liked him then and any chance of that was forever banished now. Ophelia said they fought because he asked her to dance and Torleik's gut sank. Dance?
After being gone for so long?
Defeat her fears?
What?
He was not a fool. Such words were spoken of loved ones, of someone who had hurt your heart and left, someone for whom you had feelings. The Bloodskald judged her none for her loss in battle, for her defeat at the hands of another; that was the least of his concerns right now. Selfishly, paramount in his mind was knowing if this Mauja...if he...was important to her. If he was the reason she would not open up and let the rabicano inside her heart. Did it already belong to someone else?
Was he that blind, that much of a fool that he thought he could be the only one? When the God of Time himself found Ophelia worthy of his offspring? For all his poetic skill, Torleik felt words were failing him now. What did he say? "I'm...I'm sorry," he murmured against her skin, feeling...wrong now, for touching her like that. He drew his mouth back, lips set in a grim line. "You fought well, I'm sure. Defeat is...a part of life. There will always be someone stronger or faster or better. All the gods demand is that you fight well." The sentiment seemed hollow, but it was what he believed.
A thick pause permeated the air and fear gripped his throat. Dare he inquire further? But he needed to know...if this would only end in pain for him. "What do you mean, defeat your fears?" the snow-dusted stallion inquired. What did Mauja make her afraid of? Perhaps someone might condemn him for not focusing more on her wounds, but Ophelia had rejected a healer. He would respect her wishes for now since he found her in no danger of death.
She was speaking, so he would speak with her. If these would be some of the last moments he could enjoy close to her, then he would enjoy them. If his heart proved him a damned fool once more, then he would take his allotted pleasures and move on. But for now, she needed him and he would be there for her.
@[Ophelia]
----------------------------------------------
OOC: It's impressive, how insecure he is. >.>
Ophelia was surprised as she watched his mountainous form tumble elegantly to the ground, possessing so much grace for such a massive creature. She furrowed her brows, wondering why he wanted to be so close to her side, so near a failure. Didn't he know by now that she wrecked everything she touched? The only relationships in her life, with the exception of her sister, worked only because they were mutually using. Once her use had run out, she was left behind, wondering if the piece of her heart was carried with them or simply dead on the inside. Could anyone reanimate the patches of dead flesh left by all her injuries? Was the heart as capable of healing as the body?
The warmth of his body permeated her own, and she absently ran her hoof through the water, leaning slightly. Whiskers tickled at her shoulder, and his hot breath washed over her neck. Ophelia felt the way he breathed, his scent masking the sterile and acrid tang of her own blood seeping and settling on her palate. Shame twisted her guts on the inside as she spoke, hearing his words which seemed so devoid of emotion and clinically spoken, the comforting tickle of his whiskers torn away from her neck. The frozen-hearted mare lifted her eyes to his, dancing between the two blue orbs with her own strange ones.
Silence settled between them, white as snow and carried on bated breath. She dared not speak, unsure of the change in mood but sensing it with every fiber of her coat. What had she said? What had she done?
Part of her wanted to go back, pedal through time and erase her words. Would he get up and leave? Would he abandon her here with nothing but her wounds and disturbing, haunting reflection? She felt her heart hammer in her chest as she waited, barely able to inhale lest she shatter the silence and break an already broken glass further.
Unperturbed by the physical pain, she felt it fade into the background, her mind focus on matters at hand. She would not hold this against him; she had asked for them to be left alone. Ophelia instead held onto his every word, absorbing and tasting them so that she could properly response. Gray, mousy lips set into a frown, and she considered what he asked carefully. What did she fear? What had she meant? The battle between her and Mauja represented more than just a simple spar, and she knew that as she stood across the sands from the pale ghost of her past that she fought herself equally.
"The fear of being alone," she murmured, strange, dual colored eyes going distant though the contact with his remained unwavering. "The fear of being abandoned again. The fear of never being worth anyone to stay..." Ophelia inhaled shakily, breath howling through her throat with an audible gasp. "I am afraid that all I will ever deserve in this life is... just..." she trailed, frowning. "That I just need to accept what comes my way."
Ophelia shook her head. "Being strong is not... easy for me. My father was never affectionate. I was taken as a child, and he never once came to rescue me. For so long, I thought that I was unworthy of any affection, and so many individuals I cared for deeply just... disappeared or loved someone else..." she trailed, thinking of Osiris on the beach that day with the gray pegasus mare. "I am rather pathetic."
She snorted humorlessly, eyes turning dark. "Ironic that I am so desperate that I still spoke with him after he and Deimos tried to kill me so long ago. Ktulu choked Mauja, which is the only way I escaped. He... he said he didn't want me dead because my body would be too much of a hassle to cart off." Ophelia winced, looking down at her hooves. "I am weak and stupid. Desperate. Foolish. I find myself starving for love and attention that I stupidly believe it's real until it's not.
"So many times... I broke, finally. I wanted to win so that I could, in essence, win back myself, but I lost." Ophelia sighed heavily. "Fitting, I think. There is no winning with my heart. Now, I second guess everything. I cannot trust though I crave something real, and promises have lost their value."
She realized how much she had been talking and how her past opened up like a toxic flower, poisoning the air between then. A bitter, cold smile crossed her lips. "You care too much for someone like me. I am the Forsaken for a reason."
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.
Torleik listened quietly as Ophelia finally began to lay out the answers he wanted so badly to understand. But as he somewhat expected...the answers were painful. She was afraid that she would always be alone, that no one would love her and that she didn't deserve it. The injured woman next to him spun a tale of a life lived without affection, being kidnapped as a child and abandoned by her father. A rage ignited within him when she told him that Mauja and Deimos tried to kill her when she was but a child and a new, impenetrable calignosity consumed him from within.
That Deimos had attempted this wasn't surprising, but he hated the bastard even more for it. But Phi still wanted Mauja to love her after he tried to kill her? She still tried to make loving him work?
This he could not stay silent about. "He tried to murder you - how could you want to feel anything for that sick fuck?" he demanded. "How could you want to him to feel anything for you?"
How could you be that sad? Think that little of yourself that you would willingly accept the false affection of a killer? The thoughts swirled around his confused mind as she told him he cared too much for her, that she was Forsaken for a reason. Resolve struck like lightning and Torleik looked her square in the face. "Perhaps I am equally as foolish and desperate as you," he began, "but you cannot tell me how or how much I should care for you." Gently, he pressed his nose to a soft ear, holding his muzzle there. "For whatever choices you have made in want of love, in want of feeling as though someone might find you good enough..." he sighed, deciding to let go of whatever anger, incredulity, disappointment and jealousy he might be feeling. "None of that matters now. That is the past, and it cannot be undone. You can choose to believe or not believe my promise to never abandon you, but that doesn't make it any less true."
The Bloodskald took a breath and gently nuzzled her ear again, murmuring into it once more. "I am real," he rumbled. "I will care for you as much as I want to, and you cannot tell me otherwise. I am a patient man, and you are not forsaken to me. You are not desperate, pathetic, foolish, weak, or stupid," the man said firmly. "Every child wants to feel loved by their parents. Every person wants to feel as though they are wanted by another, worthy of another, worthy of their time and attention. Looking back you can call yourself those things because if you made those decisions now, with what you know now, you would be all of what you described. But then? In the moment? Lost, lonely, empty as I'm sure you were? No; you were just trying to fill a void however you could."
I will fill that void for you if you will let me, Ophelia, he sighed in his head.
Softly, he nudged her, indicating he would not be going anywhere, and fell silent. Yes, he was confused; yes, he had been frustrated with her utterly unfathomable choice over Mauja, but...it was inconsequential in comparison to helping this woman heal. He would deal with Mauja on his own time, on his own terms. From her own words, she had been abandoned and left by everyone she'd ever cared about, save for her sister. Torleik had sworn to her he would not be another man like that, and he'd meant it. He might fail her from time to time, be unable to be there for her in every moment of her every ache and pain, but he would always be there for her should she call on him or be it within his power.
Right now, he was most concerned with her injuries. "Please let me get Lena for your injuries..." he hummed earnestly. "It pains me to see you wounded - and I haven't the skill to help you myself."
@[Ophelia]
"talk talk talk"
OOC: Feel free to have Phi purposefully or inadvertently read his mind for that loving little nugget. I don't mind.
02-28-2015, 05:02 PM (This post was last modified: 02-28-2015, 05:03 PM by Ophelia.)
Ophelia stiffened visibly as the knife of his words cut deeply in her bared heart, and like the wounded creature she was, she lashed out. Emptiness crashed down around the soul of her eyes, ears flattening against her skull before she had a second moment to think about her reaction. No, this was emotional instinct, pain and desire to hurt before she could be hurt again. “I was trespassing and he was powerful! I was young and wanted strength, no matter what the form.” Her words were hissed, filled with the sting of her own pain, confronted with the realities of her own decisions. The pale princess sucked in a shaky breath, wavering on the edge of her reaction, ready to crash and drown. “Is that so abhorrent? Am I too sick for you?” The questions were a demand, wanting to know if she should seal herself off now and let the cool of winter bury her soul in snow once more. Pain swirled in numbed eyes, the two different colors holding such dead light.
She breathed, staring into his arcane blue eyes unwavering. Her expression was a demand, expecting to hear him tell her that this was too much, that he was better than this – than her. Each inhale was the only marking of time, skin oozing as it stretched over her expanding ribs. The pain was nothing compared to her fears, wincing at his words. Was feeling for her desperate and foolish?
Surprise bloomed through her body with uncertain warmth, and she felt his warm breath in her ear, whiskers tickling at the sensitive hairs. She twitched it, feeling his velvety nose as he whispered words that did not make any sense. Confusion embraced her, nearly as confusing as a smile from her father, and she furrowed her brows. None of it matters? In the past? How could it be in the past when the memories flooded like they were yesterday? How could he simply understand and let it go? How could he make such promises in light of what she said? None of it made sense and no amount of unraveling could answer the mystery. Nothing he said made sense because it was not selfish. All the patterns she had learned revolved around survival and taking what you wanted without thought or question. Her very view of morality was based on this – taking what you could if you were able and the strongest would emerge victorious. Yet here he was, making promises that would weaken his heart and giving her care against better judgment.
Only when she let go if this mystery did she truly feel wanted. Love did not have to understand. Care did not have to have an answer. Words could not explain what it meant to be forgiven. But she felt it nonetheless.
Ophelia sat quietly, feeling him nudge her neck as she stared at the surface of the water with furrowed brows. A small smile worked over her lips, and she leaned to the side, resting her shoulder against his and taking a deep, peaceful breath. His plea to get Lena was met with a snort, and she ignored the pain. “No,” she murmured softly. “I haven’t felt this way in years.” The pockets of her heart were full, the ice untouched but enveloped. He did not pick away at it, hungry for the tender, bruised inside. Instead, he had leaned against the walls of her fortress, waiting to be let in. Thoughts, his thoughts, filled her mind as if projected, and she felt a sharp pain in her chest. Would she ever be able to let him in completely? She looked up at him, gazing at his bearded face in awe.
“I will test your patience,” she said honestly. “I cannot promise that your decision to care for me will be easy, but…” Ophelia trailed off, letting the tension in her face fade and smooth the flawless white planes. “I… will try… I want to try.” Those were not the most romantic of words, but they held more meaning than she had ever given. Languidly, she came to rest against his side again, tucking her forelegs beneath her body and drifting in and out of consciousness against the steady beat of his big heart.
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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