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Everything happened so quickly. One second, she was reeling on her hooves, struggling to stay afoot, and Mauja's nose was pressed lightly on her body. The next second, a familiar yell accused the Frostheart, and she furrowed her brows, trying to come back from the hell she had just experienced. Words had moved past her lips without her realizing what had been said, and she lifted her foggy gaze, watching Torleik yell at Mauja. Torleik was here? Her heart flopped uselessly in her chest, and she wanted to tell him that everything was all right. Where were her words? Dual colored gaze snapped between Mauja, Gaucho and Torleik, taking a deep breath and trying to regain her composure. The Bloodskald's concerned words brought her into reality again, and she furrowed her brows, frowning. "I... yes," she answered, unaware of the black stallion's inner most thoughts. He was protective, but given that he had seen her wounds and listened to her heartbreak after the battle she had fought, she could not blame him. Still, the explosive violence and wicked fury was so different than she was used to from him. "Honestly..." she trailed, looking between the group again and suddenly feeling uncomfortable with the crowd that seemed to bow around her. Being the center of attention like this made the mare fidget, weight shifting on her cloven hooves and self-consciousness settling in. Here, so close, they could all certainly see her flaws. "That felt like Deimos' magic." Her eyes snapped to Mauja's with minor accusation. He was there when his general had almost drained her of her life. Ktulu had stepped in to ensure her survival. Surely he would remember? Perhaps not as well as she... "And you're being rude." Moon-covered eyes settled on her, hard, his pale tail flicking behind him. "Provoking. Like a vulture, picking at an old wound." Had he truly changed? She could not read his mind. Everything she tried to find was blocked from view, and trust was not easily given - not for the Forsaken. Ophelia tore her eyes away, looking to Gaucho who stood with an expression she could only really label as judgment. The Throat King stood so unaffected, whatever emotions he was feeling trapped so tightly behind his roughened exterior. Perhaps he was the strongest of them all. The weight of his guilt rested now upon her testimony, and the Forsaken shook her head, rolling her shoulders at a loss. Ophelia took a step closer to Torleik, leaning on his shoulder. The fact that her aunt's corpse was burning had not faded - the hurt had not faded. "Gaucho, have you seen the rest of the evidence?" she asked curiously, her tone open and lacking the cold demands that would set him on the defensive. "The pegasus that died here first had black hairs on her body. Ailith, my noble warrior, was covered in sand. An elder, white stallion had a chip of a black feather. Phaedra... my... my friend had white feathers. A babe had chips of bone." Ophelia frowned. "My aunt had snakeskin." Her eyes darted to the burning body, sadness etched in her graceful features. "Gaucho, so much of it points to you, and yet your mind seems guarded. You have never lied to me before. You've even admitted your faults openly..." she trailed, shaking her head. "I can only suggest we bring this matter before the gods." She wanted to believe Gaucho. He was not the type to lie. Ophelia looked back to Torleik. "I don't know what to do." A helplessness reserved only for the Bloodskald flashed in her strange, dual colored eyes. |
 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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