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 ]
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