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I'm a princess cut from marble, smoother than a storm
they used to shout my name, now they whisper it Death followed her like the plague. The sky had exploded into a thousand pieces. Her nephew, Hototo, was dead. Never did she have a moment's respite, and she felt guilt weigh her stomach now for not having returned to the Basin in such a long time to update, but how could she, running back and forth from battles, bodies, and evidence? Gaucho was the killer. She struggled to reconcile his actions with his possession, needing a scapegoat for the pain in her heart. Her sister was nearly inconsolable. She and Torleik had argued. The tension between he and Mauja had been thick enough to cut with the tip of her horn. And Confutatis tries to steal Thranduil? The insignificant, meaningless and trivial action bristled her hide in all the wrong ways. How dare that mangy cur drool on her heartache! How dare that over-inflated witch try to poke at her family when the rest of the world sobbed for their losses? Words faded in her head at the rage in her heart, disappearing into twitching muscles and a need for blood, for action. The mare's babes had been born, and now there was no excuse not to crush the arrogant whelp into the ground where she belonged! Ophelia gnashed her teeth, seeing Deimos and Thranduil in the distance, and from the conversation, they were thinking much the same. The pale princess, armored in silver, strode through, seeing Thranduil leaning against the tree, shortness of breath his plague. Ophelia's lips curled back from her teeth, ears pressing against the elegant arch of her neck. Her bloodied tail whipped around her hocks, a strange manifestation of her anger given the mare's usual, stony countenance. "I already tried to teach her one," the mare snarled, withers twitching as Tinek sat upon her back. "The arrogant bitch was pregnant at the time - ran from my challenge like the coward she is..." Ophelia trailed off, having to inhale on a hiss. "I clipped the rat she calls a companion, but since I have seen her children playing near us, in the Frostbreath Steppe. The filly is unmistakable with that white skull on her face." Ophelia spoke clearly, though the ferocity of her expression was unchanging. "She hides behind assumed wiles, poking at us like a child, and I grow tired of her bullshit. I am not a child watcher of Helovia," she growled. "We have more important things to do than deal with a mare who is determined to act like the bullies of our youths - always a coward." Ophelia glanced up at Deimos, sparkling rage like ice evident in her strange, dual colored eyes. "I humiliated her once. But once is, apparently, not enough. We must crush her until the lyrics of her existence are sung on mouths of babes about the woes of poking hungry bears... foolishness!" |
 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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