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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 Ophelia's strange, dual colored eyes glistened with rare malice as the billowing flames from Gaucho's body intensified. The smirk on her lips curved delicately, and she seemed to darken despite the glowing orb hanging from her horn. Part of her wanted desperately to walk the path of righteousness and grant forgiveness to Confutatis, but her flirtation with darkness had turned into a veritable lust. The pale princess struggled with herself, having to compromise somewhere in the middle. Wasn't that life? Forever a balance between your heart's blood thirst and your soul's sense of morality? "I am not sure we want her back," she murmured softly. "She is a menace we would rather watch fail by the stupidity of her own actions, but just be wary. Any being who tortures children is beyond saving." Their friendship was already built on a foundation of stone, and Ophelia had no intentions of betraying that trust. For once allegiance to the pale princess was earned, she fought fiercely, spitting in the eyes of any enemy great or small. The conversation aptly shifted then to Midas, and she frowned, trying to hold emotion at bay with a clenching of her elegant jaw. Regally, she lifted her chin, exhaling a shaky breath at the thought of her beautiful, gentle nephew dying. She did not blame Gaucho, and Ophelia shook her head sternly. "Not your fault," she said, her words firm. "He... he was always a force for good - far more mature than his years. When darkness had taken over Helovia, he left his herd, taking it upon himself to ensure that our greenery did not die." Her lips upturned sadly. "I can only expect that he is happier now, released from the daily pains of this mortal life." The pale princess nodded, frowning. "He..." she trailed, expression souring again. "I cannot imagine he is simply alone in the Falls. But the thought of how he treated my sister, who he claimed to have loved, was..." Ophelia snorted angrily. "Well, uncalled for. In addition, I was startled to discover after my meeting with Deimos that he turned down Illynx's offer for alliances." The pale princess scowled. "Apparently he was far too busy to give a straight answer when she and hers went to offer their allegiance, so he sent his herd to the Basin to tell them no. He did not even bother flying over there himself." The very thought brought bile to her throat. "Once I learned this truth, I realized how claims of persecution from the Basin's unicorns were folly. Long ago, my father, his herd and Mirage ripped the World's Edge from Deimos and his kin, and they were forced into exile. I assume they discovered the Basin on their own. They are refugees brimming with generations of anger over their treatment." Ophelia frowned, recalling this history so clearly, her mind a flawless tome of her life in Helovia. "However, I find it rather noble that this outcasted herd has taken it upon themselves to right their wrongs and ask for alliances - and Midas was the only one to reject." Ophelia smiled grimly, shaking her head and taking a deep breath. The breeze picked up the bloodied ends of her ivory locks, and she glanced up into his rich, blue eyes. For as simple as he seemed, she was beginning to realize that Gaucho was quite intelligent and rather observant. "Forgive me for laying my troubles on you," she added rather suddenly, aware that she had commanded the conversation for quite some time. "While I am here, please let me know what can be done with your herd. I wish for my presence to be useful to you and yours." The motives were not ulterior. She genuinely desired to serve the citizens of the Basin. Allies were close, bonded, brethren, and she would work to maintain these ties. |
 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. |
Please tag me in every response!
