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Ignorant swine, troll, bitch, useless carcass... how many more evil names could be tied to her personage by the mortals upon this land? How many would judge her before understanding the truth behind her oddities and the sadness of her soul? A memory of without forget, filled with regrets. Every shimmering ounce of pain etched into agonizing permanence. A tortured, beautiful mind. She had been called many things, and the mare grit her teeth, refusing to allow his words in anger taint her desire to aide the stallion. Ophelia understood anger, and she understood it well. She promised to exact revenge on Nyra, and the mare was now dead. Vein filling rage consumed her when anyone threatened her sister, and Phi knew that she would murder without thought for her sibling.
A temper was forgivable. If Ophelia was able to forgive Deimos for leeching her soul from her body, crashing to her knees, then words in anger were a whisper on a hateful wind. As she searched the cave, she was unaware of his wandering gaze. The mare had never believed herself to be overly beautiful; she believed that her sister held the royal flush in that department. In her mind, she was an awkward half-blood whose only unique feature was the crimson in her fibers. The two colored eyes were a blemish in her thoughts, and her cloven hooves were a strange, classical feature on an otherwise average unicorn. Like most females, Ophelia tried to avoid her reflection in the waters. However, she was intelligent and independent enough to understand that her figure was given as such and that changing anything would be vain. She accepted her normalcy with a confident resignation.
When Tinek showed her what he had seen and she had made her hypothesis, she knew that it was time to explain. The difference in his demeanor was visible in the uncoiling of tense musculature beneath blue hide. Lips curled into the same, mad smirk, but this time, a glint in his eyes told her that he was not about to erupt once more with another slew of foul language. Only an ear ticked to the side when Valentine made his appearance, her two-toned gaze unwavering as she awaited an answer from the brute with the curved horns.
From the sound of the other male voice that reached her auds, she knew the stallion by acquaintance in the snowy north. He wanted to know what was going on, but Ophelia needed her answer. She wanted to help the stallion who had just lost his companions, but if he did not desire it, then she would move on with her life and find the answer to the curious happenstance on her own. Ophelia's posture was confident and modestly beautiful, weight resting evenly on all four cloven hooves. The wind danced in the long fibers of her tail, and her tulip ears tilted forward to listen.
The blue discounted Valentine's approach, and though she found his dismissal to be harsh, she understood the purpose. Being forced to entertain the curiosity of another when you have lost everything... that was a torture reserved for a special circle of Dante's hell. "I am awaiting this stallion's reply to my earlier questions, though his eyes have informed me that he has responded positively to my first," she replied to Valentine, though her gaze remained strangely fixed on the demon-eyed brute in front of her.
Tinek, the silver dragon, closed his frosty jaws and narrowed his own crimson gaze at the blue stallion, wary of his presence and intentions. Ophelia felt his movements shift, but she still patiently waited. Curiosity nagged in her gut, and she wanted desperately to read his mind and assess his thoughts in the matter at hoof, but she refrained. To enter a mind is to strip a creature of individuality, privacy and dignity; she would not do so unless absolutely necessary. "I am Ophelia," she said after a moment of quiet, her chime-like voice ringing through the clear, starry night.
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