Ophelia spied an interloper post battle. She had met those who had once sided with the Foothills, and she had recognized her father and those from the Edge upon the hill, observing their bloodshed. But this mare... The strange, dual colored eyes that peered out from beneath white lashes narrowed slightly, her crimson eye taking on a cruel glint. A thrill of battle and violence still pulsed through her veins, making each swift and bloody step on cloven hooves invigorating. Would this high die soon? Ophelia hoped not; she felt nearly invisible with blood dripping down from her jaws, wild and demonic.
The two horns on the interloper's brow reminded her of the Sun God, and the loathing intensified. Even the mare's cry of demanding grating upon her ears, and Ophelia's temper was so easily nicked at this point in time. Being watched as she shed her own blood in a battle of too few against too many only served to grate on her last nerve, and she gnashed her teeth together to display her utter displeasure.
Even the sun over head served to rub her fur the wrong way, and the white, battle-weary leader paused in front of the demanding bitch of a unicorn while breathing heavily. "What do you want?" she snapped, knowing that if she detected any sort of deception, the white mare would pick it from her brains by force. Though young herself, Ophelia held herself with a maturity that far outweighed her slim years. An ancient weariness and bitter anguish rested in her strange eyes that did not belong in such a young expression.
But her memories would not allow her anything else. Everything was meticulously filed and in perfect detail in her brain, and even when she did not desire recollection, the past would play behind her eyes. As she waited for the mare to reply, Ophelia's crimson and white tail dashed at her back legs in a snake-like fashion, body tense with the desire to do more than snap.
[OOC: permission to read mind next post?]
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