the Rift


[PRIVATE] Breath of Life
Ascended Helovian

Mauja the Frozen Light Posts: 1,392
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.2 :: 14 HP: 79.5 | Buff: HUNTER
Irma :: Snowy Owl :: Terrorize & Diego :: Eurasian Eagle-Owl :: Rage Neo
#1
Pretty much takes place at the end of the invasion. For Ophelia. <3 (Unless Tamme wants to let others in?)


He could do nothing but wait as the sun climbed the horizon — wait, and watch, as the Foothills members fell one by one before the onslaught of Paladin's two girl-children. And gradually, his adrenaline had cooled off, spending itself on pointless worrying and dancing on the spot until the pale mare had him convinced that she was not about to die from an unlucky stroke from the shadows. She handled herself well, weaving in and out like a dog of war with her pack at her heels, bringing down her foes: some he recognized, some not, and it was with a flash of glee he couldn't quite fight down that he saw Ktulu fall down on the churned earth. While Mauja had easily forgiven Ophelia her trespass, and somehow, he thought, earned forgiveness in return for Deimos near-killing of her, the Frostheart had no intentions of forgiving or forgetting Ktulu. When he had been lost in time, he had sometimes dreamed of dying, waking up with the constricting sensation which was not only imagination, but part memory. He knew what it was like to not be able to breathe, and he hated it.

Every so often, the pale stallion would wince, or prance on the spot when things seemed dangerous, but she made it through everything with only a few bloody nicks to go with her fringes. Up on a rise, he saw Mirage take flight, and sourly thought good riddance. Paladin left shortly after her, and for a moment, Mauja's eyes were drawn to his figure: he was quite impressive, objectively speaking, but he did not like him for whatever reason. Worse to think was that in age, he was closer to Paladin — that it was his young daughter tugging at Mauja's mind, causing him to twitch forwards a step each time an enemy swept in close... He'd explored the notion that he was old enough to be her dad before, but always found it so unnerving he started thinking about something else instead. He gave his head a shake to clear it, listening with his ears swept forward as Ophelia demanded the last standing defender, Locket, yield. The wavy-haired unicorn had pranced elegantly, even managing to nick Ophelia's face, but he gave up, and Mauja released a breath he hadn't been aware of holding. She had won. They had won. With a mixture of pride, joy and something he didn't quite want to identify he shouted out, "Ophelia!", before throwing himself into a canter. Frosted hoof struck newly conquered ground, and he, out of consideration for Ophelia's gentler nature, avoided stepping on any of the floored contestants.

Personally, he wouldn't have minded, but, you know. Gotta keep up appearances.

Whoever that Jackal was, he was no longer worthy of being here, that much was obvious — the horses upon the ground started to stir, but Mauja didn't care. That Locket was worthier of being leader (or ex-leader) than the one who hadn't even shown up to save his own. Mauja had bled and burned beside his warriors, yet lost, but their loyalty was the reward for his pain.

Grumpily Irma told him he was stupid, but Mauja wasn't listening. He had one eye on the ground, to avoid trampling someone, and the other upon Ophelia. He didn't know if he should wait, in line, for all the politics to be settled, but frankly he found that he didn't care. It was just something — about being back, on a battlefield even if he hadn't fought, and seeing Ophelia again, glorious and whole... It filled him with a sense of lightness and elation, and in his soul the owl was screaming that he was no prancing pony, that if he didn't get a grip on himself he might regret it later! But for once, the connection was missed, and he found that he couldn't really care right now. He'd seen her win.

With a youthful light in his blue eyes he slowed, first to a bouncy trot, and then to a complete halt, and felt much like a stupid puppy wanting to wag its tail and prance around foolishly. Flicking his ears back, uncertain for a moment, he looked at the ones standing, the ones fallen, the flurry of activity as the dreadful reality sank in.. the smell of wounds, blood, sharp in his nose and biting his prey's mind, the notion that many of those who lay upon the grass were homeless. He didn't care about them, precisely, but he knew of their plight, and the recollection of his own long flight rang hollowly in the spaces between his heartbeats.

"Congratulations," he said after a moment, somewhat subdued and sober. Giving his ears a flick he turned his eyes back to Ophelia, and offered her a small, shy smile.



Florence + the Machine - Breath of Life
angels, they fell first, but I'm still here
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
#2



The politics of war could wait. For a second, a brief moment in time, she exhaled the stress and shut out the sounds around her. She closed her strange, dual colored eyes and simply... existed. The peace slowed the rhythm of her heart, muscles relaxing on a tired frame. Then, a voice she did not expect to hear pulled her from the vast expanse of snow that was currently falling in her mind to soothe her thoughts. The voice pulled at her smoothly, and not roughly like others did when she was forced to return to reality; that juxtaposition from the pattern of her life confused her, and her brows furrowed a little, putting the thought aside for examination, later. Mauja? Ophelia remembered noticing him as she was fighting, but she did not expect him to linger. Why? Well... perhaps she was used to rejection or perhaps she hoped that he would give her longer to decide what she felt now that she possessed her memories in full.

What happened between them in a dream was just that, a dream. Right? Ophelia remembered every second clearly - every bizarre second full of bloody roses, golden eyes and mutual understanding without speaking. She remembered how her heart had bled in her chest for his situation, wanting nothing more than to return him to life. Even after regaining her memories, she went to the Sun God's shrine, hoping that an amulet would gain her answers from the god her stripped her of everything and abandoned her like a child would a tiring toy. Instead, the God of Time had explained that Mauja had been released, and her promise to try was fulfilled. In that moment, she had deluded herself into thinking that her ties to the Frostheart had fallen.

Clearly, she was wrong as the strange beating in her heart informed her that she had not severed what lay between them - whatever that was.

Ophelia was not the same. Since her memories returned, the openly given and touching compassion had been tightly locked away, just as she had done with her desire to love upon seeing Osiris on the beach with the gray pegasus. The memory still ached in a way she wished she could forget, but she loathed to think that the Sun God won in that regard. But what did she feel for the Frostheart now?

The alabaster princess could not deny that she learned a side to Mauja in that dream that she had not seen before. She remembered the fear in his icy eyes and the depression that hung on his frame like the very weight of the land. In that moment, the Frostheart was not a symbol of force that she had come to think of him before, but real, accessible and... well, if she was being quite honest with herself, attractive.

Then, she had not possessed the memory of his words that still haunted her mind - her perfect mind. Perfect. The word was too positive for the reality of remembering everything, especially when she wanted to forgive. And then, his rough voice would remind her that her body would be too much of a burden to drag from their borders, dead. How could those words have come from the same lips that had touched her neck in the dream?

The same way you can pretend that the Grey is your family when they are killers. The thought lingered in her subconscious, not making it into her working mind just yet, but the doubt was there as a shadow, lingering in the corners and waiting.

Ophelia blinked once, her thoughts having raced through her mind, and she refocused on Mauja as she danced over the fallen figures who were just started to rise. The pale mare lifted her neck, trying to take pride in the battle she had just won, but with such pathetic numbers against her, she felt cheated. The Frostheart's eyes seemed so bright, vibrant and alive, but she felt weary, worn and tired. Was she born old, or was this exhaustion a product of still tying together the memories she made while lost from herself and her true past? The excitement dimmed as his nostrils flared; was it the smell of blood that brought him back to the reality of war? Or was it something else?

Either way, the joy she had seen in his eyes had lifted her spirits, and she smiled back, tilting her tulip shaped ears in his direction as well. "Thank you, for congratulating me, or us, rather," murmured, cursing the fact that she was stumbling over her words. She averted her gaze, awkwardly and shyly and took a moment to observe the wounded. Ophelia did not count herself among their numbers. Her leg ached terribly, but there were others in more desperate conditions than herself. For the most part the gashes on her cheek and leg had coagulated, but as she stood now, she favored her injured canon.

Tinek, excited to see the white stallion who had actually followed him (though there were moments when the silver one felt like throwing his body on the ground in a fit when he got distracted), tumbled from the sky rather gracefully and landed on top of Ophelia's head, shoving her ears to the side. The dragon cast a baleful glare at the stuck-up Irma before grinning at the stallion. Ophelia seemed to be irritated however, by him landing on her head, but it was not his fault that she chose to stop in a place where he could not watch from a tree branch. Finally, she tossed her head, and Tinek popped open his wings, catching the wind and then settling on her back.

Ophelia seemed to feel his disappointment because she swung her hips around a little, limping on her back leg slightly, so that Tinek could also be a part of the conversation he heard and did not understand. She furrowed her brows, though the smile still rested on her gray lips. "Did Tinek bring you here?" she asked with a small, musical chuckle. "I apologize if he pulled you on such a long journey to see... this... well, massacre, really. Jackal did not show, and I feel cheated," she admitted, anger flashing through her dual colored eyes. Phi wanted to challenge him directly, just to prove that she truly did win.

She grimaced a little, still shy, and tilted her ears to the side while squinting slightly, white lashes falling to dark rimmed eyes. "I am tired," she murmured quietly. Those words were the most honest she had spoken as of yet. Ophelia was tired in many ways, and she no longer wanted to carry her life as she had done from such a young age. Wandering had been so much more simple, quiet and peaceful.



[Long rambly Phi reply is long and rambly O_______________O I am so sorry, Neo <3 ]




CARRY YOUR CROSS
And I'll carry mine. Dig your own hole and you'll be fine.

roni




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!
Ascended Helovian

Mauja the Frozen Light Posts: 1,392
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.2 :: 14 HP: 79.5 | Buff: HUNTER
Irma :: Snowy Owl :: Terrorize & Diego :: Eurasian Eagle-Owl :: Rage Neo
#3
Mauja Frosthjärta
He knew well the haze of battle, the feeling of exhaustion, both mental and physical.. the desire to lay down and sleep, to forget the adrenaline, the sounds, the tastes and smells. He knew the exhaustion, and he knew the impossibility of it: you could not fall asleep on the field of victory, for there were always things to deal with. Scores to be settled, orders to be given, bodies to be taken care of (though it seemed no one had died today)... He knew it, and he thought he saw it upon her, like a cloak she wore against her will. It showed in the eyes of those around him, in their movements, yet she raised her head valiantly to look upon him as he approached. How long was it since he had met her? At the beginning of last Frostfall, when he had been miserable and injured, hiding in a cave while infection plagued him? So long.. yet his memory of her was near perfect, from her long legs to the blood-red fringes. Perhaps she was even more beautiful in life. Perhaps the lightly bleeding nicks only made her seem all the more alive.

While his initial lunatic's elation had burned out, leaving him more composed, there was something erratic and uncontrolled in him still. He felt his heart lurch when she smiled back, so easily, as if it was not a chore to come face to face with him again. Why would it be, though? She had been positive of mind last time, in that cave, but.. it had been so long.. and did she know that the reason he had not sought her out since then was that he had been well and truly gone? And not just, preoccupied with something else?

Did she even care about it?

She stumbled over her words, and looked away. "What else would I do?" he'd managed to get out before he realized what he was saying, and shut his mouth with a bit of an abashed look. Sometimes he should just be quiet, especially when his mind was not quite in complete control. A slight frown creased his face as he glanced around again, trying to take in who was near and who they were, if they mattered at all. They should not see him like this, so bare-faced and honest. Gradually the shield behind his irises slipped back into place, a lid upon his soul and his secrets. He gave his head a casual little flick, and the white veil fell in place as well. The less the world saw, the better, and gently he tilted his head back to watch Tinek come down. The dragon had once devoured him in a dream, but that had not been real, yet he couldn't help but wonder as he watched the silver youth who perched on her head in a such an offhand manner. After he'd glared at Irma in the sky he grinned, and Mauja tried to not count his teeth, or wonder how hot the flames from his mouth would be — not knowing that Tinek did not breathe fire at all.

She tossed the dragon back, and Mauja flicked one ear forward, too late remembering that the creature had smiled at him, and that he ought to have responded in kind. He tried to catch Tinek's enigmatic eyes as he sat on her back instead, and offered him a brief, crooked one, but his attention was drawn downwards, to the slight limp Ophelia sported. Only natural, yet a brief scowl crossed his features. She'd fought, she'd bled a little, she'd done it well, so why did it make him angry to see her hurt? It was nothing, really, she was standing, smiling, talking, not lying on her side in the dirt... "He did," Mauja said gently, flashing the dragon another look. The bent smile returned to his muzzle, a slight curl of his lip and a matching glint in his eyes. Though, unbeknownst to him, there was a slight hint of shyness in them, the thinnest of uncertainties — boyish, in some way, though it was soon replaced with a slight frown. "You did well, Ophelia. You did very well. You are a worthy winner, you and yours — that Jackal didn't show is on his head only." Without thinking he took a step closer, then seemed to realize what he was doing, and stopped rather abruptly. "The only thing you can do, is be better than him, and never let your herd lose alone." For a moment, his voice, his face, was harder, as his body remembered the pain and his mind the loss. They had been defeated, but he had been with them, suffered with them, and so, they had remained. They had a new home. They had prevailed, because he had not been a coward hiding behind the lines and hoping his soldiers would win.

She admitted to the one thing he had suspected, that she was tired, but he found he had no answer to it. If only — if only they had been alone, like in the dream.. if only things had been that simple. He hesitated for a moment, and his ears fell back slightly. There was no point in denying it, that he wanted to touch her, comfort her, shield her from the world which caved in, the reality, the aftermath of war.. wasn't it bad enough that he was already stealing her attention, when surely there were matters she had to attend to?

Who cares?

"It's okay," he murmured, his voice more of a rumble in his chest than melodic words spoken out loud, and with a feeling of recklessness, of the world either going on or ending, he took the last step forward to close the distance between them, to rest his soft, dark muzzle against her white neck.

If she was tired, then she could rest in his shadow, and he would keep the world at bay, keep her safe.
If only life was as simple as dreams.

( <3 Mauja says that if anyone disapproves of his flowers, they can go somewhere else because he does not care. xD )
seven days to the poison
and a place in heaven

Elenowen - The Storm
angels, they fell first, but I'm still here
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 snorted a little in bitter humor at his words and shook her head a little, tossing her blood stained mane awkwardly over her neck where it did not naturally fall. "You could be here to observe with pursed lips and sorrow like the rest of the group that gathered on the hill," she grunted pointedly, glaring at the spot where Mirage, her father, Xanthos and a few others once were. She sighed heavily and then glanced back at him with apology. "I am sorry; I should not be so bitter. I did not expect to see my father observe the battle only to leave without word." Emotion rose to her throat that was nearly impossible to define all at once, but she swallowed it down quickly and felt it burn to the center of her heart. Tinek interjected and waved at the distracted unicorn, and Ophelia furrowed her brows when she saw a scowl cross his features.

Was he looking at her injuries or her dragon? She could not exactly tell. Though, she did not blame him for his distaste of dragons, especially not with the burns he had sported in that cave. Memories of Tor came flooding back - their first meeting. Anger flooded behind her eyes like fire at the thought of the mousy spotted mare and her lying, hateful heart. Being abandoned seemed to be a common theme in her life now, and she wondered if Mauja would do the same. So far, he existed in her history and present as a curiosity - an unknown variable to an equation with no answers. What did he want? She was not the most stable creature, and certainly not a queen fit for the Frostheart. Psyche the DarkEmpress fit that role much more easily.

The silver dragon managed to catch Mauja's crooked grin and that was enough recognition for the moment. Tinek, tired like a child who had been running too long outside, fell asleep almost instantly on her hip, crimson eyes shut to the world. Ophelia envied his ability to sleep so easily and so completely. Whether it be dreams or sounds, Phi never seemed able to rest for long, and she figured that was another reason why exhaustion seemed to creep up her muscles like poison. Her suspicions were confirmed. Tinek had dragged the Frostheart here to watch her merry band of misfits obliterate what remained of the Foothills, and she now realized that he must have been scowling at her injuries since he smiled at her dragon. Some of the ice melted around her heart, if only a little. She kept it locked away tightly, never allowing it to see daylight and hurt her again, but oh, the beating organ desired another.

The alabaster mare grunted at Mauja's comforting words, wishing she could believe that her victory was solid. She grimaced slightly. "Thank you," she managed. "I am... I am proud, yes, but at the same time, I loathe Jackal for not showing up. When I knew him as a child, I did not expect this kind of behavior; I thought better of him." Ophelia cast an uncertain glance in the direction of Mauja, not wanting to send his spirits in a cascading spiral along with her own. The stallion took a step closer to her and abruptly stopped, but Ophelia did not react. She did not entirely know why. Something about having her memory be in rather flawless form shoved out most instincts and social graces.

Never let her herd lose alone. She heard the way his voice hardened and saw the ice in his eyes become even more frosty. Ophelia did not blame him for still aching over loss of the Edge. Though she would give her right hoof to belong to a land as beautiful and perfect as the Aurora Basin, the bitterness of loss could taint even the most stunning of gifts. "You are right." She said quietly, looking out over the sunny Foothills. The light hit droplets of blood like shimmering garnets, turning the heartache of war into a display of beauty. "I have been to the Aurora Basin; it's lovely. You must be very proud."

Exhaustion came creeping again, and she opened her mouth to admit that she was tired, the words meaning more than just the need of sleep. The deep rumble of his voice relaxed her, and the words came to her ears as if underwater. "It's okay." To be weak, exhausted, lonely, abandoned, forgotten, and criticized was okay; those emotions were not a curse. She was no longer able to sustain herself, no longer able to keep her eyes open without reeling. A dark shadow hid her from the world when is taller figure blocked the light, a soft, familiar muzzle on her neck. The sensations of their dream were all too real, and her memories told her that this was not an unknown event. Ophelia shifted to rest the side of her face against his neck, her weight moving to favor her injured hind leg. For a moment, if only that long, she allowed herself to trust. Phi shut out her senses, letting the warmth of his body soothe her mind into oblivion.

Moments passed. Time was irrelevant. Eventually, her dual colored eyes flickered open once more, realizing what she had done in her weakness. Cautiously, she tilted her delicately crafted, pale face to look into his. "Do you remember... that dream?" She asked with furrowed brows, hesitance on her chime-like voice.



CARRY YOUR CROSS
And I'll carry mine. Dig your own hole and you'll be fine.

roni


How can I be Sure, by Anomie Bell




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!
Ascended Helovian

Mauja the Frozen Light Posts: 1,392
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.2 :: 14 HP: 79.5 | Buff: HUNTER
Irma :: Snowy Owl :: Terrorize & Diego :: Eurasian Eagle-Owl :: Rage Neo
#5
Mauja Frosthjärta
Her bitterness was understandable, and for a moment he tried to imagine himself: glacial, regal, standing atop that hill with the others, infecting their sorrow with his cold, freezing the blood in their veins — or were those warm-blooded creatures too hot to every grow still? Pursed lips and sorrow.. if he had stood among them, would they still have scattered? And at the same time, he knew that he could never have been a silent spectator upon the hill, that the rush of his heart and its roaring in his ears would've demanded he go closer. As it was, there had been no need for him to intervene, but he knew that he could not have stood by and merely watched, or left without knowing if she'd stand again at the end of it all. Fools, fleeing before they knew the fate of their friends. "Perhaps they felt the need to go watch their flocks now that they saw that the big bad wolf was out prowling in the south," he replied, something vaguely scornful in his voice as he trailed her gaze to the crest upon which the aforementioned had gathered. "I happened to notice that their retreat coincided with my arrival." Cowards. If Mauja wanted to break into their lands and reclaim his throne, he'd not be out here, would he?

Tinek seemed to content with his late smile, and curled up upon the white platform of her hips. Thinking about it, the dragon had been awake for a long time, and his slow hop down south during the night had probably been more taxing than just an evenly paced flight would've been, and then the adrenaline, the thrill, of battle, weaving in and out.. the emotional drain. For a moment he watched the sleeping silver with a soft look, marveling at how the predator's sharp lines somehow smoothed out in sleep. Was she as weary as her bonded? He guessed so, for somehow the delicate princess facade she often put up was gone, tarnished, ripped down; she grunted, a most unladylike noise, followed by a grimace that wasn't exactly doll-face either. She spoke more of this Jackal, and he could understand her chagrin, to an extent; with how easily the Foothills had fallen, it had not been a fight, it had been a massacre. No leader had been there to hold the torch high, to inspire courage, honor and loyalty in the souls of his soldiers. Why had they fought at all? Could they not have assimilated, like Locket? Jackal had not deserved their blood.

"I didn't know you knew him," the stallion murmured, knowing that you changed as you grew up: those who were brave as colts were sometimes cowards as stallions, grasping at the power only to flee when the horns were aimed at their throats. The weak were surprisingly adept at becoming influential, to have others dependent on them. They fought in the shadows, afraid to have their blood shed, to let the sun seep into the cracks of their bodies.. as it did now, the rays glittering upon the coagulating droplets, and Mauja frowned as he looked over to where a large half-draft lay sprawled on his side with red staining his chest. Had there been casualties, after all?

She revealed that she had been in the Basin, and his bright eyes turned back to her, the sun striking their depths like snow. "You've seen it?" he asked in surprise, before his ears fell back. "Psyche was the one who earned it. I was.. indisposed," he finished lamely, not sure what else there was to say about it. He did not particularly enjoy dwelling on, or talking about, what he'd gone through in that other place, but as a matter of fact, he didn't know if Helovia had even taken note — or if they'd just assumed that the wintery hunter lurked amidst the snow, his coat blending in with sky and horizon so they never saw him as he stalked the northlands. It wouldn't surprise him if no one had known he was gone.

But then it all changed, they were close, close enough to touch. With a tremble in his soul, a ripple that did not reach the surface, he reached out, the plush skin of his muzzle leaning against her firm flesh and white fur. She smelled as she always had, lovely and cold, but with sweat and violence masking it, drowning out the elegance with something more savage. Blue eyes half-closed, lungs expanding to bring in the scent of her, to allow it to fill him up. She was silent, accepting of his touch, even turned to rest her cheek against his neck, horns pointing towards the sky in a bloody salute to the sun, the new regime. He forgot about it all — he forgot the worry, the scent of blood and warfare, the bitterness of their previous conversation, the betrayal of one Jackal and the glory of another. Lulled into comfort by her mere presence, but with one ear alert, awake, for he was her guardian, her shield, and he could not wholly let the world be forgotten while he stood vigil. Irma was his second sentinel, his second pair of eyes, but she lay dormant in their bond, spiraling upon rising morning winds and watching the shimmer of sunlight across Tinek's silver scales.

For how long they stood there, he did not know. He did not think to count the moments, the heartbeats, except to marvel at the faint shudder of her pulse against his sensitive neck, the softness of each exhaled breath tickling against his short fur. Time did not matter anymore, and he could've stood there forever, her shield from the prying sun and the aftermath of war, but perfect moments never last. They were forever doomed to become nothing but cherished memories, and his eyes opened fully when she drew back to look upon his face. Her hesitant voice slipped out from her maw, and for a moment, he went rigid as his dark pupils widened, shiver and chills going down his spine. That dream. That dream...

"You ran away from me," he murmured lightly, wondering if she would remember the same thing — or if she'd simply had a particularly vivid dream of her own, a different scenario, a different time. "And the roses followed you, glowing red in the darkness." The nightmare had been just around the bend, ghouls pushing against the golden shimmer of his shield, his aura, but they had never quite got through.. the voices of doubt had whispered in his head, and again, he found them in the shaded corners of his heart. Swallowing, he blocked them out, instead tilting his head to peer into her eyes.. wondering if she would remember the same thing, or not. Wondering, why it sent his heart reeling in his chest, hammering like thunder in its metal cage.
seven days to the poison
and a place in heaven
angels, they fell first, but I'm still here
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 frowned patiently at Mauja's words, able to understand how he must feel to be loathed by so many. The battle against the Edge was joined by nearly every herd against him and his own. Did he deserve such a stigma for wanting to protect what was his? No. At least she thought not, and she offered him a sympathetic grimace and a soft sigh. "Cowards, indeed," she agreed with a whisper. "I do not understand why you are such a threat when it was your land that was taken from you - not the other way around," she murmured with righteous indignation. "Granted, your power and influence in most likely what threatens them; from what I have seen, you possess a natural charisma that attracts supporters with stunning loyalty."

Ophelia paused and her eyes widened for a moment, averting her gaze quickly from his. She found herself in an awkward situation where her true feelings and observations spilled from her mouth like honey. Rarely was she so careless with her thoughts, but around the Frostheart, she did not feel the need to be so incredibly uptight and guarded. Quickly, she adjusted the subject, complaining about how Jackal had not appeared for her battle. The weight of his disappearance still hung on her shoulders, and a dark emotion, akin to hate, bubbled in response to any memory of his name or figure. "My sister, moreso than I," she explained. "When she was still crippled, I shouldered her weight everywhere. Jackal, I believe, had affections for Ktulu; I tried to stay as far away from any of the childhood drama as possible." Ophelia had never truly fit in, regardless. She remembered that day on the beach where Jackal had nearly summarily ignored her in favor of her sister. How could she blame him? Ktulu was beautiful, bold and powerful, much different than herself and her strangely colored eyes.

She followed Mauja's icy gaze to a half-draft stallion who was laying on the ground, bloody. Ophelia knew the creature to be alive by the subtle rise and fall of his chest, but in the light, he looked to have reached the end of his life. Death brought to mind her father's family, and that reminded her of Psyche. She mentioned her jealousy at his claiming of the Basin, finding the snowy land stunning and perfect. Ophelia met his cold gaze and nodded, smiling a little. "The circumstances were not pleasant, but I did see it nonetheless." She said, thinking back to Tor selfishly throwing herself into their clutches and the blessing of angry faces that surrounded them upon her arrival. Mauja admitted that Psyche mostly won the land, and she smiled softly. "Regardless, your home is beautiful," she replied, trying to focus on the positives and not the fact that he was captured during the creation of the Aurora Basin.

Exhaustion came swiftly, and he stood as her shield. Ophelia embraced his touch, her cheek, though bloody, rested against his neck. She inhaled his scent that was familiar and yet new. When she had been in physical proximity with him last, the scent of char and decay had been overwhelming, and in the dream, the smells were soft and hazy. But now, she could palpably smell who he was. It was musky and masculine, but clean from the purity of the snow. Like a drug it soothed her senses and enveloped her mind in a cloud that whispered 'sleep', lulling her into unconsciousness against his spotted flesh.

Time passed, but how long? As she awoke, senses returned to her one by one. A steady humming of his pulse against her jaw roused a layer of fog, the gentle prickle of his fur against her eyelid lifted another, and finally, the warmth of his body and the rustle of reality pulled her further from slumber. Ophelia should have felt embarrassment, weakness at what she had done, but her emotions were steady and calm. Instead, a question gripped her, and she let it loose from her lips. His response was startling in comparison to their previous state of relaxation, and she furrowed her brows more deeply, taking a step closer and attempting to soothe him by touching her muzzle to his. Black nearly obliterated the blue of his eyes, and she listened, hearing his words clash against her own memories. Ophelia shook her head, frowning.

"I remember differently. I stood on the edge of a chasm that parted us, and with only your last words of 'I have damned myself' did you fall. For a long time, I waited at the mouth of the hole, but I was unable to follow. I woke up moments later," she explained, able to recall every detail perfectly. Backtracking from that moment to their walk in the cave was like living a dream all over again. Ophelia frowned. "I would never run from you." She promised.





CARRY YOUR CROSS
And I'll carry mine. Dig your own hole and you'll be fine.

roni




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!
Ascended Helovian

Mauja the Frozen Light Posts: 1,392
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.2 :: 14 HP: 79.5 | Buff: HUNTER
Irma :: Snowy Owl :: Terrorize & Diego :: Eurasian Eagle-Owl :: Rage Neo
#7
Mauja Frosthjärta
Somehow, her disposition towards him, and the darkness painted across his picture, surprised him. He didn't know why, but he had not expected her to be supportive, least of all damning how others treated him and his kin. For some reason, it had never crossed his mind that she would be different, as her merry band seemed thick as thieves with the Throat, and thus, the Qian too, even if the latter had only stood to watch. But who could blame him, really? Helovia seemed divided into the Basin and those who disliked them, who saw horns poised to strike in every shadow and had nightmares of two rulers made by ice and shadow. In some twisted, foolish way he'd thought she tolerated him, perhaps enjoyed his cool intellect (though he couldn't recall having had an intellectual conversation with her), but ultimately, thought him a threat to the world peace (never mind that he was).. that he was some kind of disgraced uncle. Despite the fact that he was somewhat shocked, into silence even, his face did not betray it. He merely arched one 'brow coolly as if to say really, wondering what Mirage, Kri and Ktulu would say if they heard such blasphemy from her lips. And if they feared him for his influence, his ability to elicit loyalty.. then what kind of leaders were they? Cowards? Tyrants? It was always wise to respect your enemies, but fear? Were they so insecure they needed to fear him? He was nothing but a broken, snow-clad man anyway.

But talk turned to Jackal and he listened as she explained, having lived in her sister's dark shadow when it came to him; stayed away from childhood drama? Did she mean something like puppy love, the first forays into affection? Somehow, he could understand her, wishing to stay away from that tangle — though, bitterly, he could tell her that sometimes shit happened without love, too. For a moment his mind strayed to the dark Faelene, her disembodied voice in the darkness, but he pushed the memory aside. Ophelia surely had better control of herself, and more intelligence in that white head of hers. Detached as she was, he doubted she'd make any such.. things. Not that he regretted what he had shared with Faelene, only the way he'd handled it afterwards.. the complications it brought.

You're trying to run down several paths at once, Mauja. You cannot both have and eat the cake.

"It is," he agreed quietly, thinking of the snow capping the dark mountains, the lake reflecting the quiet night sky, and the pass leading in to that hidden heart in the northlands — and he thought of a high cliff towering above the sea, shrouded in mist and trees, smelling of brine and bark, always accompanied by the harsh cries of sea birds. Slowly his ears fell back as they found their peace in silence, her breathing growing slow but steady against his neck as his own mind wandered where it willed.

- - - - - -

She pulled back at his words, and he blinked, slowly, trying to beat the memories aside and away. He had thought the dream nothing more but a dream, a vivid imagination, testament to his longing of those he had been so cruelly torn from — yet here she was, speaking of it, and he tipped his gaze downwards while lightly pressing against her muzzle. It did not entirely soothe him, his heart still felt rugged and too-fast, like a deer startled by a predator who was not on the hunt. What had happened in that dream.. he did not quite know, except that he'd admitted, to himself, some things he perhaps should not have. It would've been easier if he'd locked himself in his icy cage of denial and duty, banished the ghouls with a flick of his dark soul and proclaimed to the world that I am right. But, it would not be that easy, and one ear twitched, recalling his own words. They rang with a hollow kind of clarity in his mind, and he tried to recall how many times he'd fallen through time and space in that dream. Twice, at least.

A weak smile played upon his face, and for a moment he closed his eyes, to try and gather his thoughts. She had not run away at the end, no — it was he who had fallen through the ground. Bitterly he wondered if she'd still promise not to run if she knew everything about him and his. "But you did run, at first," he insisted quietly, slowly opening his pale eyes to look at her again. "Before I dreamed of you, I fell again, and I think I woke up in water. You came walking, obliviously, saw me, met my eyes... and ran. I chased you, and the world collapsed, until we were alone in that cave. Once we were both in it.. you did not run again." Slowly his head tilted to one side. "But perhaps that was.. only my dream." He did not know when, or even if, their souls had joined, though her recollection of his last words, exactly as he had shouted them to that dark, gold-filled cave, was perfect. And it made him vaguely uneasy to think, that somewhere along the road, they had touched minds. And if he'd dreamed with her..

.. what if he'd dreamed with others, too?
seven days to the poison
and a place in heaven
angels, they fell first, but I'm still here
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
#8



Ophelia watched Mauja raise one brow in a rather cool and perfect explanation of what she assumed to be feeling. To her, the expression was a playful accusation of her compliments about his personage in light of the Grey's most recent alliance. It was also a display of slight disbelief, she thought, but was he confused about her truth behind her words or the whether or not she was simply being flattering? Either way, Ophelia chuckled a little, the sound more hollow than she would have liked, but it was as much as she could manage after just fighting. The mare smirked. "What I speak is truth. Others would be foolish to ignore such obvious qualities, especially in light of tension they feel for you and yours."

The alabaster mare thought on his herdland after a brief overview of her history with Jackal. She smiled softly. "If those snowy mountains were not full of loyal followers, I would have turned my band north, but alas," she teased slightly with another smile. "The desire alone for flawless landscape is not enough drive to harm friendships." Not to mention that the Basin was massive and full of warriors, including Deimos. Ophelia had no interest in seeing him again any time soon.



Ophelia awoke and finally discussed something that had been weighing on her mind. Their shared dream. She had not thought that such a thing was possible until she realized that he was trapped in some sort of alternate dimension. The alabaster mare pressed her muzzle against him, able to feel the way his nostrils flared ever too quickly for the calm moment. She breathed slowly, calmly, looking up into his eyes with as much patience and gentleness that she could display.

She listened to him explain the beginning, and Ophelia nodded quietly. "I remember seeing you in the ocean," she explained, brows furrowing as she recalled the memory. "I ran, though it was not my intention to run from you, merely... run. I was compelled beyond my conscious desires; I am unsure how to explain it," she said, stumbling over her words and halting a step verbally. How could she explain the feeling of having to do something with little reason why? Especially when in a dream? She had no words to describe the ethereal grip that had tightened her muscles and moved them forward.

"The world did fall behind you until there was a cliff that descended to darkness at the entrance to the cave. I walked with roses in my wake and you walked with gold, like molten, sparking metal. We spoke and wandered forward until we found a golden pool of liquid. You touched it and your eyes turned to solid gold; I did not know what to make of that. Demons pressed in on our sides, and after we spoke, the ground beneath you crumbled," she murmured, clearly recalling every fine detail, every shared breath and every sound. The words were distinct in her mind down to the enunciation and accent, and she wondered how much about her memories she let on when she shared her words with him now?

Ophelia was not purposefully hiding her perfect memory from anyone, but she was not the type to shout out that she had a unique ability and a curse. She did not desire the fame or recognition (or even pity) that might follow that being public knowledge.

Finally, she gently pulled her muzzle from his, gaze moving to the activity around them in the center of the battle field. Most of who had fallen were risen, and many more were waiting. She sighed heavily, blinking exhaustion from here eyes. "I fear that I may have lingered beyond what I should," she murmured. Ophelia offered him a kind smile. "You are welcome to stay, if you wish, but I will not keep you."





CARRY YOUR CROSS
And I'll carry mine. Dig your own hole and you'll be fine.

roni




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!
Ascended Helovian

Mauja the Frozen Light Posts: 1,392
Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 7.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.2 :: 14 HP: 79.5 | Buff: HUNTER
Irma :: Snowy Owl :: Terrorize & Diego :: Eurasian Eagle-Owl :: Rage Neo
#9
Mauja Frosthjärta
It was the first time he had heard her acknowledge him as a friend.

The lilt of her voice lingered in his memory long after the words had been uttered, playing along the caverns of his mind, echoing, etching themselves deep into the bone. Mauja's memory was not perfect — he could not recall in vivid detail every moment of his life, every worthless encounter, every word, name and oath he'd ever heard spoken. But, for being a mortal, he had a keen one, although it was subject to the twists and turns of his mind. Worry changed voice inflection over time, uncertainty, doubt and regret clouded the exact phrasing he'd used when speaking damning words.. no recall was ever perfect, but some things he did not forget, despite the minutes ticking by. It was unlikely he would ever let the words wash out of his mind; her face might grow blurred, her voice less pristine, a word changed here or there, but the essence of it would remain.

She spoke of the dream, of how she'd been compelled to run, but not by something she could know, or identify. With the shock of finding out about the connection wearing off he felt his heart grow steadier, his breathing calmer. The blue around his pupils widened to reclaim its place, the sun glittering in them, and a smile played across his lips. He'd already told her once, hadn't he? Dreams didn't have to make sense. Still smiling he gave her nose a nudge, blowing hot air onto her face. Perhaps she'd benefit of letting her analytical mind wind down, and just.. enjoy something, without picking it apart. Like.. what? his mind asked with a kind of slyness he did not appreciate, and he banished the thought to some deep, dark hell where it could burn in eternal flames and then get buried in three thousand feet of ice.

For a moment his gaze strayed as he listened to her recollection of it, humming slight amusement when she mentioned the gold. It was strange, that the shield of his soul had taken on that color, as it was one he did not normally associate with — in fact, if anything, he would've thought it to be icy. But it hadn't been.. it had been gold, and he toyed with the idea of revealing to her what the demons where, that they were the voices he suppressed when awake but listened to at night, when he had no way of defending himself. In the end, though, he heaved a small, quiet sigh and decided against it. He did not want her to know. He did not want her to know what he was, could be, nor did he need to acknowledge his doubts out loud. Bad enough they existed at all. "We all have our demons, don't we?" he said in the end, his voice rather light and playful despite the darkness of the words. One ear flicked back, the other forth again; had that cave been his, more than hers? Had it been in his soul she had wandered, in his collapsing world she had run, some last beauty before his presence brought it all down? Or had they both strayed out on some astral road, met by chance, and danced in the darkness?

She pulled away and his eyes blinked, thoughts snapping back to the present, and not wandering the inconceivable paths of stars. The celestial had to wait, as the smell of blood testified to mortal urgency — vile, compared to the soft stardust beauty of the other world. Hearing her words, knowing she had to go, his eyes glanced skyward for a moment. Did the Gods find them filthy and primal, feral and primitive, for their warfare and bloodshed? Did they mind them flecking the pristine snow with sanguine spatters?

His mind wandering, he almost told her it wouldn't be so bad to be kept by her.
Then he kicked himself mentally, and merely inclined his head. He knew she had to go. She was the newly crowned Chieftess, leader of the Foothills, glorious, bloodstained, exhausted — and he was the exiled King, the threat in the shadows, an icy beast who lurked in the bitter winds of the north and plotted.. nothing but an enemy, and he felt grim satisfaction that he'd been the first to claim her, to hold her attention, that not even her troops had been granted those first minutes of bitter victory and the long moments of exhaustion. They had been his, for whatever reason, and as he gazed around him he wondered if it would make them resent him. Not that he cared particularly much, though he doubted it'd make them more inclined to like him just because he showed support of Ophelia. "I am glad to have gotten what moments I could," he said with a crooked smile. "Even if they, perhaps, should've belonged to your men." Mauja, a thief who stole moments. "I have no reason to linger, and I don't think my presence will be much appreciated. Take care.. of them, and of yourself," and he reached forward to rub his cheek against hers, a brief touch, before pulling back. Giving her that boyish, rakish grin only she seemed capable of causing he winked at her, before turning and elegantly striding away to the west, the sunlight shimmering across his back.
seven days to the poison
and a place in heaven
angels, they fell first, but I'm still here


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