Nothing made sense. Pieces of the puzzle lay scattered about, some of them mixing with other puzzles entirely. Until every shape was organized, known and cataloged, she would never be whole, never be able to be made. The Sun God attacked those who would not worship him, but Ophelia knew herself well enough to understand that she would never abide by hopelessness. Right? Ears tilted to the side now, and she winced as if the holes in her memories caused her physical pain. Silently, she waited for her sibling to speak, feeling every accusing statement as a stab in her heart. Selfish. Spoiled. Cruel.
Was that who she had become? Wanting something made her selfish? How could it not when all she did was injured those around her? Did anyone have a choice? Sacrifice was the way of the gods, and this was apparently hers. Seemed that this sacrifice damaged more than just her personage, though. Was this what the Sun God intended? Did he mean to shatter all of her relationships in a single, swift action? The mare had averted her eyes at this point, every ounce of tension and anger draining from her body. Stress had taken its toll.
Once shimmering tresses hung dully from her neck, and her body hung from her frame rather loosely. Eating seemed a rather dull endeavor when her stomach would not stop churning, and she stared at the ground listlessly. Perhaps her soul would leak from her hooves into the earth below, since it already was a bloody, pulpy mess. Apathy became the only response she had left, having shed too many tears and uttered too many apologies than her heart could bear. Instead, she took her verbal beating; she listened once more to the consequences of her actions.
Childhood memories she never had served as another knife, and she could not make eye contact with her sister lest she crumble entirely. "I understand," she whispered, not trusting her voice to shatter if spoken louder. Tinek watched with sad, crimson eyes, having thought that the reunion would have been a happy time. Something was wrong with his bond-mate, and that was upsetting. The silver dragon swooped to the ground and sat heavily next to his bear-friend, resting his horned head in the brown fluff.
"Until I regain who I was, I am useless," she said rather harshly. "I am sorry," she murmured, hardened eyes looking up into her sister's crimson orbs. "Now, I go to right this wrong. What I asked for could not be worth your pain." The pale mare then began to move south, retracing her steps from where she had woken up. Memories of being happy and carefree were now a taunting delusional, a cruel irony.
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