the Rift


Like fool like daughter [Nymeria Challenge]
Ascended Helovian

Ophelia the Amaranthine Posts: 701
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 7
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16.0 hh :: 6 Years HP: 77 | Buff: BULK
Tinek :: Royal Silver Dragon :: Frost Breath & Shock Breath Tamme
#1

Ophelia the Forsaken

I build bridges with these arms
I will not build a fortress

Ophelia knew instantly the fool girl who dared to try to steal from her, and she stalked from her home in the World’s Edge to the bordering Rotunda. She stood upon the grassy knoll, cloven hooves digging furious footings into the hardened ground. Evening was quickly fading to the bright, colorful rays of dawn, but instead of the soft sunrise of romance and affection with Torleik, the burst of chroma was violence and fire. The white and crimson length of her tail swung heavily behind her hocks, flashing like a cat stalking its prey, and the delicate curve of her feminine ears were smashed against her neck.

Every wrinkle in her brow was laced with anger, uncaring that the little shit who dared make an attempt on her person was her niece. Beneath the flames that licked inside her soul was a grain of disappointment, hoping that this skull-faced child would have learned from the mistakes of her mother. But, hope was the wine of naivety, and she should know better than to expect a modicum of intelligence from that particular lineage. The World Eater had consumed no worlds, running scared after poking at bears while pregnant.

Foolish! Stupid!

How dare that cursed bloodline try to best her own! Ophelia was the Forsaken turned Amaranthine. She was daughter of Paladin the Valiant, ruler of both the Moonlit Tides and the Wintossed Foothills. By the time she was Nymeria’s age, she and her twin had gathered the strength of their own herd and defeated Jackal in war. The God of the Spark had chosen her to carry Roskuld and to lead the Aurora Basin. She orchestrated the battle against the Hidden Falls and won, choosing the new leads of the World’s Edge with Kahlua. She was etched into every herd land in Helovia and blessed by the Sun God with ascension.

What had Confutatis accomplished besides birthing this wretched Nymeria and her twin brother? Nothing! Ophelia refused to call her the World Eater. That was not a title she deserved as she held no leadership in Helovia, never did and never would. Someone had to teach her child not to follow in her steps. Someone needed to show her that she should not start fights she had no hopes of winning. Had she tried to steal from Gaucho, she knew he would do the same, and she felt no guilt in ordering this challenge with the furious bellow from her lungs.

“Nymeria!” she yelled. “I know it was you.” The strange colors of her eyes flashed as blood began to prick her skin like rain drops of horror. They slid down her fur, sensually marking every curve of her pale body as she transformed from angelic unicorn to a queen of the damned. “This is what happens when you target those you cannot hope to beat. Do not make the same mistakes as your mother, girl. Do not be a fool.”

--------------------------------------
(Intro) (490 words)
- Challenging Nymeria for pride/to teach a lesson
- Set in the early morning in the Ancient Rotunda during Tallsun
- Clear skies and warm weather

image credits




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!

Blu the Bootyful Posts: 443
Administrator atk: 99 | def: 99 | dam: 99
Mare :: Other :: 5'7" :: 25 HP: 99999 | Buff: TWERK
Blu
#2
@Nymeria
 HP: 1100

Helovia Hard Mode

Nymeria Posts: 182
Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 6.0
Mare :: Equine :: 16.2hh :: 3 years HP: 69.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Lilómiel :: Plain Black Dragon :: Fire Breath Wanderer
#3
She hadn't thought Confutatis would leave.

Nymeria had always distantly known that they would not remain together, for more reasons than one. They were too alike, and yet all too different. What Confutatis sought in brute force (and often to her failure) Nymeria chose to do in stealth, in calculated decisions—a roll of the die, a gamble, but only ever made when it was in her favour. Confutatis wanted chaos; Nymeria wanted order, a hierachy with her clearly crowned as Empress. What was the point, after all, in ruling if there was nobody to rule? To devour the world, to crush enemies—it lost the taste of games and took on the taste of needless bloodshed.

When Nym was young, she looked up at her mother and saw only a ruler, a god. Now when she looked upon Confutatis, she saw but an old woman, one who clung desperately to her sexuality and passion and yet, for all her efforts—was nothing. Nobody loved her, nobody admired her, nobody cared to live beneath her rule; they didn't fear her, but scorned her. What mother preached she had always failed to attain herself.

And yet she understood.
That hunger, ingrained in her bones; that desire, thrumming through her blood; she had to rule, had to conquer, had to forge a name. There was no way to adequately explain the relentless need to uphold her bloodline, to be made into legend. It was what had driven her to this decision, this recklessness, so out of nature for her—the decision to plunge into action, heedless of the consequences.

Except that was a lie.
There had been nothing unplanned about this. The eventuality of failure had been acknowledged and mapped out, as had the remote possibility of success.

Aunt Ophelia was regarded by many as something greater than mere mortal, an Ascended, a favored of the gods. Nymeria did not know the details of the Amaranthine's deeds, but she did know her prowress, her skill. When Nymeria tasked herself with an attempted capture, when she decided to make her move, it was not without careful thought. And while she had certainly not expected this furor from her Aunt, she had given it thought too—she would not be going unprepared anywhere. Arguments, defenses, and implorations had already come together in her mind as she trotted towards the Rotunda.

Volterra was there.
Her heart leaped, rising in fleeting joy—she longed to go to him, to press her body against his, to melt into his caress and his anger and the security of his flank. With mother gone, it was all the more important that they stayed together—and insofar, that had hardly been the case. Ever since their... spat, they had strayed clear of one another. It would soon be time to remedy that; soon be time to come together, and reunite, to coax their plans into action. (Her plans, at least; what Volterra thought of Confutatis' previous desires she wasn't certain.) Now, however, was not the time. As much as her heart and mind reached out to him, she had to focus on carrying out her plan.

Without a second glance, she moved by Erthë and Volterra, towards the crux of the problem.

"Aunt," she says, soft and gentle, the edges of her voice all sanded off. Placating. Imploring. "I didn't ever think I would best you. I... just didn't know how to get your attention. Please, I'm sorry for any harm I caused."


BLOW A KISS / FIRE A GUN
we don't need somebody to lean on


OOC: Abstaining from attack but will fight if attacked.


Yes I lied, don't think about you all the time
All my switchblade words ain't aim to cut your sweet delusions

Ascended Helovian

Ophelia the Amaranthine Posts: 701
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 7
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16.0 hh :: 6 Years HP: 77 | Buff: BULK
Tinek :: Royal Silver Dragon :: Frost Breath & Shock Breath Tamme
#4

Ophelia the Forsaken

I build bridges with these arms
I will not build a fortress


Ophelia stood proudly with a narrowed gaze, the blood dripping and pooling around her coat with the force of her anger. She was vengeful, to some a fault but to others, beautiful. The fury she rained down upon her enemies was tenfold their original sin, but this was who she was. Like most beings, she did not see fault in her ways – only catastrophic failure if her retribution was not delivered swiftly and successfully. Like a phoenix, she had risen from the ashes of her own losses (especially against Mauja), and she had overcome. Though bested in combat by Gaucho, Mauja and Deimos, she was not down and would trial against the limitations of her own body until she yanked herself to the top by nubs of fingernails.

Time was her friend, not her bloodline. She waited a watched, learned and remembered. Knowledge was power which she knew how to use better than whatever strength she held in her willowy form, but she was unafraid to throw herself into violence. Perhaps this is what set her apart – her willingness to do whatever it takes, no matter the consequences.

In this way she did make a name for herself, one that matched the name of her father but she did it on her own. No one cared when she was just a filly, a nobody, that she was the daughter of the Valiant. Only after she beat herds into submission did they take notice, and Nymeria should have been wise enough to know this for herself. Even if she had succeeded in stealing, Ophelia would have found out, though her chances of success were slim to none. She was less experienced, younger, and a fool if she had any notion of this going well.

Ophelia turned her gaze to see Volterra and Gaucho in the distance, and grunted softly. Mostly, she focused on her nephew since she liked the boy quite a bit. A single raised brow asked a question: did he know? But her gaze almost softened. He was not the one standing before her now, facing his own failure. In fact, he had proven himself in battle and commanded Tinek with a sound mind, something Ophelia had never let anyone else do before.

Turning back to Nymeria, she snorted in angry amusement at the pathetic excuse of her words. There were enough holes in her story to make a lie seem honest, and the Amaranthine smiled, the expression somehow infinitely more deadly with blood dripping down her face.

“Do you take me for a fool, dear?” she asked, the sickly sweet tone holding malice. “You know where I live. You have seen me there. I caught you spying at the borders of the World’s Edge. Volterra has approached me before in battle. You know my name. You could have asked any in the World’s Edge or could have awaited my arrival.” Ophelia took a step forward, tail flashing around her haunches as she sternly focused forward.

“Do not lie to me; not when I have caught you so plainly, girl. Not even your thoughts are safe from me. She whispered the last line, a threat and a warning that she would yank the truth from unwilling brains if she had to. TELL THE TRUTH! WHAT were you going to steal from you AUNT?!” she bellowed, pulling her mousy lips back from ivory fangs.

-----------------------------------------
(0/3-4?) (564 words)
- no battle yet!

image credits


@Nymeria




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!

Nymeria Posts: 182
Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 6.0
Mare :: Equine :: 16.2hh :: 3 years HP: 69.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Lilómiel :: Plain Black Dragon :: Fire Breath Wanderer
#5
Anger and hurt waged in equal measure as Ophelia's gaze slid off towards Volterra, her heterochromic eyes softening to rest upon her brother's form. She couldn't believe her—to have the audacity to look away, to look at Volterra with such gentleness, such repose; did she think he was better than her? More favourable than her? Why did this always happen? Why did they never see her for what she was, who she was? It's the skull, she thought, her heart hardening and her gut wrenching (she felt as if she might deposit the contents of her stomach on the soil at her hooves); if I had not this fucking skull painted on my head, I would never have these problems. The extent of her mother's influence was incorrigible, indivisible, from herself; it was tattooed in the white emblazoned on her forehead, imprinted on her cheeks, no matter her actions, no matter her choices.

People saw what they wanted to see.
And her aunt was no different.

Nymeria inhaled slowly and exhaled sharply, her red eyes meeting Ophelia's heterochromic ones. They contained nothing of the growing furor within, the chaotic and blooming rage set deep within her heart and spreading like a plague through every cell of her body. If she were to mirror Ophelia's anger, nothing would be made today but her first enemy—and that had never been her intention, although Ophelia had certainly leapt to that conclusion. All she had wanted to do was her prove herself—and what better way than to capture the most renowned spy in all of Helovia?

Still, Ophelia acted like a petulant fucking child, raging, storming, oblivious to anything but her own actions. Blood continued to drip from what seemed to be every orifice; Nymeria wondered how she had been gifted with that magic. It was a strange one, and had she been someone different perhaps more intimidating—but she had long been acquainted with blood.

She demanded truth, threatened assault; did she act this way with everyone? If Nymeria had been someone different, someone Ophelia didn't know, would she have responded with such raw anger? The skull-faced daughter said nothing in response (not yet), even while she ached to bite back, to defend herself, to correct the unicorn's interpretations of her "misdemeanours". Instead, she drew up and proofread answers—although whether or not the Amaranthine would choose to accept them...

Not likely, considering the way things were moving.

Nymeria's teeth flashed in a wolfish smile, the only expression of her scorn, her complete disdain for her aunt's actions; she stepped forward, not once but twice, seeking to play Ophelia's own words against her. When she speaks, it is quietly and sharply, cold and accusatory. "If you want the truth, read my thoughts. Realize that when I was at the Edge that day, I needed help—your help, your guidance, and you didn't see it. Recognize that I was planning on stealing nothing from you; that I wanted to capture you to show I had potential, that I could be something more, that I might be worthy of your mentorship." The grullo glanced towards her brother, hesitated, and then sighed.

"I'm not my fucking mother. If you need to read my mind to figure that out, then you're welcome to."


BLOW A KISS / FIRE A GUN
we don't need somebody to lean on
@Ophelia


Yes I lied, don't think about you all the time
All my switchblade words ain't aim to cut your sweet delusions

Ascended Helovian

Ophelia the Amaranthine Posts: 701
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 7
Mare :: Hybrid :: 16.0 hh :: 6 Years HP: 77 | Buff: BULK
Tinek :: Royal Silver Dragon :: Frost Breath & Shock Breath Tamme
#6

Ophelia the Forsaken

I build bridges with these arms
I will not build a fortress

Indeed, Ophelia acted this way with everyone who dared slight her or those she loved. She had torn down mountains for Ktulu and fought Mauja based on her own emotions. More than once she had demanded honesty with rage and a lethal gaze, so Nymeria was no different than all the other fools who used their desires instead of their brains. The Amaranthine was being kinder to Nymeria now than she would have been otherwise. Not so long ago, she had attacked the girl’s mother without waiting to hear the entire story – not that Phi would have believed it anyway. And that was the crux of the problem here.

Volterra had been upfront and honest. He had spoken to her with maturity and confidence, approached on his own and battled side by side without contest. Never once did he challenge her, so there were no arguments. The colt went on his merry way and Ophelia watched with pride, but Nymeria had slunk around like a spy, choosing instead to steal from her rather than speak up. She had a good set of lungs now – argumentative and bratty – that she could have easily used earlier.

Nothing added up, and Phi wouldn’t be condescendingly talked down to by a child with no parents to teach her how to behave. Had she even dared speak this way to her father, there would have been hell to pay. You are treated how you choose to act according to your status and relationship. Ophelia and Gaucho had a good working relationship now after a very rocky start, so she was comfortable enough to steal him and play with his herd. But, she knew that he could get angry and battle her; she would take her beating and learn.

The sign of a brat was getting yourself stuck in a situation and trying to weasel your way out without owning up to your own actions. You cannot blame others for your own faults and Ophelia was well within her right to her anger given Nymeria’s snide tone.

Ophelia laughed when she spoke, amazed at the self-absorption of this child. “You are blaming me for not seeing that you needed my help when you said nothing? Take responsibility for your own inaction and perhaps I will treat you like an adult,” she growled. “And do not dare use the excuse that I was too intimidating because I am standing before you now prepared turn your hide raw and you have enough gall to give me a snotty tone in return.” She stilled her hooves into the soft earth, the warm daybreak a contrast to her stormy mood.

She peered into the child’s mind. “This has nothing to do with the marking on your face. I’ve known many with skull markings before your mother and I am sure I will meet many more. What I have a problem with is your attitude and the fact that your story does not add up at all,” she replied, her tone strong and unyielding but no longer festering with rage. “If you want my help, ask for it. If you want to prove yourself to me, ask first how to earn my approval. You have a healthy set of lungs on you from the bratty tone you’ve given so far, so I know you are perfectly capable of speaking up.”

Ophelia lifted her head. “You are not special until you prove that you are. No one gives a damn about what you look like or your bloodline. You think anyone cares that Paladin the Valiant was my father? No. He is but a memory in the minds of those who knew him – just as your mother will be. You determine your own fate by your actions and your words, and you have to be willing to face the consequences of those actions.”

She sighed, her coat slowly beginning to turn white once more. “My actions from this point forward are determined by you. Continue to act a brat, and I will fight you as I intended to show that I will not be pushed around simply because you are distant family. Apologize now and come to me later with a frank request of what you want from me, and we can discuss mentorship then. Or, you can run away and be labeled a coward. The choice is yours.”


------------------------------------------------------------
(0/4) (727 words)


image credits


@Nymeria




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!

Nymeria Posts: 182
Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 6.0
Mare :: Equine :: 16.2hh :: 3 years HP: 69.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Lilómiel :: Plain Black Dragon :: Fire Breath Wanderer
#7
Her aunt's laugh hit her like a slap in the face.
It stung.

Nymeria blinked, her eyes itching to slink away from the older woman's. The air that had swelled her up felt to be diminishing—and she fought for it, desperately patching up the leaks as they came. I've done nothing wrong, the skull-faced told herself. It's not...

A surge of fire burned through her arteries and ventrioles, a flash of energy sent by Lilómiel. It was enough to halt her pride's recession, enough to proficiently halt the way she had begun to bend and crumble beneath the Amaranthine's will. The sharpness and cruelty with which Ophelia spoke changed nothing. Her brazen desire to utterly quash Nymeria's independent thought was ridiculous. It was she who was the child, not Nymeria; it was Ophelia who crowed of her own maturity while feeling the need to beat someone who was hardly an adult into submission. It was fucking pathetic, that's what it was; or so Lilómiel thought, by the careful prodding and poking of Nymeria's mind, the casual manipulation of his bonded.

The skull-faced mare raised the walls around her mind, built up the fortress she kept her most private thoughts and feelings, cloaked away from Lil's pryings. She would learn from underestimating her aunt, and remember what the encounter said of her aunt. (Which was, for now, that she was hardly worthy of the respect the younger Nym had thought she deserved.)

It's nothing to do with the skull on your face.
Sure. Sure it wasn't. Not like you treated Volterra like a fucking hero.  

She clamped down on the urge to spit back some foolish, something arrogant; Ophelia already thought her a fucking brat. Or maybe I should live up to that? If Ophelia honestly... stop thinking. She might be groping around in your head still. How would she know? How could she tell? There had been no sudden difference when the Forsaken ripped into the meat of her cerebrum, tore free the most malicious of her recent beliefs.

Nymeria's gaze skittered towards the bystanders; she wondered if they wanted a fight.

"I'm sorry for misjudging what was right and wrong," the grullo finally said, settling on the answer she felt most sincere and appropriate for the occasion. "I appreciate your open-mindedness. This won't happen again."

With a final low, long sigh, Nymeria attempted to back away and slip off towards Volterra and the others nearby.

BLOW A KISS / FIRE A GUN
we don't need somebody to lean on
@Ophelia


OOC: Attempted exit


Yes I lied, don't think about you all the time
All my switchblade words ain't aim to cut your sweet delusions


Official Posts: 847
Administrator
Stallion :: Equine :: ::
Official
#8
Nymeria forfeits. Ophelia's challenge for pride/lesson teaching is successful.


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