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02-24-2015, 11:19 PM
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Ophelia the Forsaken
Tearing herself away from the meeting with Thranduil and Deimos had been incredibly difficult. The pale princess had wanted to stay and watch the vile mare crumble beneath the weight of Deimos’ power, sucking away the very life from her bones. Vengeance bloomed in her heart, a thorny red rose in the darkness, but she had returned to their mountain fortress, serving well until the time the champion would return. She exhaled a white breath, setting herself about the mundane tasks of their homeland and keeping everything she could in order. Fortunately, the inhabitants were wonderfully self-reliant and took on responsibility proudly until a war cry summoned her from the depths of her management. Two, delicately shaped ears tipped forward, and she eagerly followed the sound. Loss was not a word she equated with Deimos, but the universe did conspire every now and then. Cloven hooves crunched on gravel as she trotted with ethereal grace toward the small gathering, seeing Lena already present and knitting together decaying tissue. Ophelia frowned, mousy lips turning down with concern as she swept her gaze over the Lord Deimos. That was when she noticed the bone armor that had sat upon Confutatis at Ophelia’s challenge, and the Lady smirked, strange, two different colored eyes glittering with gleeful darkness. A behemoth stood nearby – one I recognized from the last gathering, and I offered him a swift nod in greeting before focusing on the day’s hero. “Congratulations,” she murmured genuinely, her tones twinkling like chimes. Ophelia circled the bone armor curiously, nostrils flaring as she inhaled the foul scents of its former inhabitant. As she glanced at the leader’s wounds and back at the armor, she absently wondered if this was worth the pain. Would this rid the Basin of Confutatis’ gnat-like presence? Most certainly not, since petulance danced dutifully on the mare’s train. Ophelia had experienced it herself, but fortune had not favored her desire to wield a crushing blow. No other words needed to be spoken, as she was quite sure that additional words of praise would sound demeaning. ‘I am proud of you’ in the face of the pain he must be feeling and the battle he waged seemed cheap and insignificant. Ophelia smiled kindly at Lena, standing to honor their victorious. |
 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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