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01-14-2015, 01:04 AM
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Ophelia heard Mauja's words of defense echo behind her, but unlike Gaucho, she could not see into his mind. At her attempts, her power faded into mists, got lost in fog so thick she could not find her way out again. Every thought, memory and feeling was completely lost in a void, guarded, and she wondered if he was blocking her intentionally. That would be suspicious, but she had no proof. The pale princess was at a lost with the Frostheart, unsure of his honesty but trusting, regardless, that he could not kill Psyche - not if they shared a child together. The thought settled in her gut with a burn, like a hot stone dropped into a pot of water. She felt sick. Still, she slid her body between the two stallions', her gaze falling to Gaucho who held such an angry, belligerent expression. Anger would get them nowhere, and tensions were already thick enough to cut with a knife, tainting the very air surrounding all present. The throat king stubbornly denied the evidence, claiming Tinek or other creatures could shed - even Mauja's owls could have dropped the scales. While true, in a way, everything else pointed to the antlered beast. Still, she held her tongue. Sno's yelling did not help, and Ophelia grimaced, understanding the passions of losing a parent but struggling to be the fifth barrier between the pair of warring parties. Eventually this verbal spar would turn physical, and she wanted answers before they tore each other apart. Psyche was her aunt, and the jackal-mare meant something to her too. The murderer deserved to be stopped, but knowledge was their only ally at this point. A swift lurch of another pegasus mare made the pale princess tense, and Tinek, aware of the movement, descended, exhaling a warning breath of ice and static that crackled in the air. "Quiet now," she murmured, her voice soft and delicate but holding so much weight with the position of her body and the dragon on her back. "Gaucho has accepted I look into his mind, and I shall do so now. Bloodshed will not allow us reach to the killer." Her advisement was uttered with seriousness, though her heart hammered in her chest. Gently, she reached out toward Gaucho's mind, picking and prying through memories that held a single, beautiful word across all: family. He tenants were sound and morals important, holding others above himself - a warrior servant to his clan. A dark shadow tainted where she watched his hooves land on this island, and then blackness. The darkness was consuming, dragging her into his mind as hers was almost ripped from her soul. She could not break free. Trapped with the connection she had mind, Ophelia struggled, growing nauseous and slipping. Her breathing was ragged, and she leaned on her bones, weakening with every attempt to fight for her sanity to return. The very tint of her strange, dual colored eyes was dead, fading to white like a corpse on the ground. Then, it snapped, and she groaned, feeling her mind reel back into her own consciousness, reeling. Ophelia stared up at Gaucho in confusion. He was innocent otherwise, no signs of lingering anger or issues against the dead. The king had not even met a few of the bodies. "I... I can't..." she stammered, struggling to regain her thoughts. "There... there is not enough to know..." Ophelia shook her head, blinking furiously. "More is at work here. I cannot make a definitive ruling." |
 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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