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03-31-2015, 11:23 PM
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Ophelia the Forsaken
Focused as she was on the future - on what was ahead, she did not stop to look at her surroundings. The shadows were simply dark, and she barely noticed who was hiding there, watching with wolf’s eyes. Like a wraith she moved relentless, unseeing eyes glaring through the darkness as her bruised, cloven hooves tumbled across the stones toward her home. Memories ran at her side, childhood friends she would never see again, and the dead who would never rise from earthly tombs. And she ran with them, just another ghost in the night. Another wandering soul with a purpose so futile in time that she disappeared into an insignificant speck in space. Al-Shahin, the noble stallion who had saved them on the tides, guarded her even now, his memory keeping him alive. Soleil, the war-mare, smiled at her with motherly warmth, hooves never quite reaching the ground, never quite alive. Psyche glared into the distance, and Ophelia mused that the independent beauty would be rather irritant to be captured in the realism of her head. Djinn. Tor. Adele. Osiris. Comadre. Ailith. Hototo. Nyra. Her father. Gossamer. Olema. Surema. Kri. Knox. Circe… An entire herd of those who resided only in the confines of her mind stood at her side, ghosts who haunted secret thoughts and wrapped her heart in satin strings of fate. They heard his voice first, the ghosts of her memories turning their heads, dead gazes converging upon the point where he stood. Ophelia took a shaking breath, furrowing her brows as she looked around at their faces, so real, all looking toward him. Was he another figment of her imagination? Did he come to nip at her heels to send her flying faster into war? Not believing he was real, she watched for a moment, saying nothing at all. Exhaustion tainted the luminous orbs trained on his position, nostrils flaring with expression lax in confusion. What reason did her memories of him have to be here now? Fighting at her side? He had faded, disappeared into the ocean, and he had drowned part of her with him, leaving it tarnished at the floor of her soul. As she had always done, Ophelia picked up the pieces, put them back together, and made a fragile, frozen whole. Vengeance and rage shut out the pain, and she let herself freely loathe those who hurt her - well, a few. Hate was hard when hope still lived. But she was different. The world had moved on, and she was not strong enough to remain a fixture in time. She changed, evolved and hardened until crimson blood was hard as stone and her heart as unyielding as winter. Trust, never given twice, was laughable, and she knew there was little remaining of who she used to be. The naive, curious and compassionate oddity of her youth was left far behind, and there was no turning back. Perhaps if she was better - if she was good. She wasn’t. She never would be. Reality set in, and she felt numbness itch from her hooves to her soul, protecting her fast-beating heart from suffocating emotions. There wasn’t time. But there were seconds for silence. What could she even say? Everything that popped to her mind sounded rude, and she frowned slightly. ”I cannot linger…” she said finally, settling on rather innocuous words that were factual and real. Still they settled uncomfortably; no matter how honest they were, they said nothing. |
 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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