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Ophelia the Forsaken
Oh now this was amusing .The Reaper, in all his “impotent offense” came sauntering over, standing there while saying nothing – and honestly, who was surprised? If she had an ally for every time he stood silent like some dumb mute, she would have an entire planet of friends. And thus she waited for him to get through whatever thought process he was following before deciding to grace her with whatever choice words he had prepared. And, once he spoke, she wanted to laugh out loud. It took one, wild and sick grin crossing her lips to stifle the internal howl that mocked him from deep within the fragments of her tattered heart. She had long since stopped giving a shit what arrogant and self-righteous stallions thought of her, and if she had digits with which to rudely gesture, she might. If he was actually in a habit of leading the Basin instead of sitting his arse upon a throne and delegating (and there was a rather significant difference), perhaps he would be less disappointed with her leaving and more eager to set the herd upon his own path. Instead, she mused that he was most likely irritated and concerned that he might actually have to lift one prim and precious hoof and perhaps even open his mouth to speak. Work. All of his allies? Hers. The efforts to involve them in a war and set them on a path to win? Hers and Hotaru’s. He could claim nothing but the utterance of his acceptance to a plan she had already put in motion. And she was the disappointment to him? This was laughable. He was the true disappointment. He was a figurehead, reaping the rewards around him at the bloodshed and efforts of others – not his own. In fact, his legend title suited him well in this regard. He was a reaper of the rewards of other’s efforts, and she had been a pawn after the Time God forced her upon him without a single word of recourse. Now he was complaining. He did not want her to lead in the first place! The irony was thick enough to cut with her horn. The wild grin faded to a smirk, one brow raised in humored disbelief. “How fortuitous that your opinion has not meant much to me,” she snorted. Arrogant prick. “You fought my ascension and now you mock my leave. Ironic, really. It took a God to force you to see beyond your narrow scope and you so quickly make me your enemy, even knowing what I know and recognizing the ties I have forged.” He truly was foolish. She was patient, a knife in the dark, and she held power and sway over men and gods mightier than he. Ophelia promised herself to make him regret this one day, and on his last breath as leader, at her hooves, she would utter those same, snarky words with glee. She never claimed to be ‘good’ or righteous. Perhaps this was even petty, but an eye for an eye would never satisfy her need for vengeance. All transgressions would be repaid two-fold. Coupled with her loyalty, these drives made her a powerful ally, but they made her a bitter, eager thorn in the side of her enemies. Ophelia had tried to do this the right way. She came to him, stating her intent. She offered to help him build so that her absence would not be sorely missed, and like a true fool, he spoke from his heart instead of his head. With a smirk still curving her mousy, gray lips, she bowed her head, the action a complete mockery of his station – one that she held as his equal for long enough. “Goodbye, Deimos.” The pale princess stepped away, preparing to leave. She eagerly awaited his next choice for lead, wondering if he was talking more out of his ass while trying to get the last bit of her advice put to use. Time to visit Gaucho an Archibald. |
 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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