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It really never ended with mortals.
The God listened with a dull and depleting lack of interest, as Murder spewed verbal tears towards Ophelia. Ophelia. Ophelia the Forsaken she was calling herself now; more like Ophelia the fake. In the minds of Murder and those like him, he could easily sense their dissatisfaction, that he was not playing at being Mate of the Year. Jealousy. Misunderstanding; that's all it was. For they didn't know her as he did - Ophelia wouldn't even remember... In the hours before her memories were returned - when she was still unladen by grief and remembering - she had been something, then. Something truly beautiful, and worth coveting. Something with such pull, that she unknowingly drew him from the time streams and into the world again, to marvel at her side. She was an unblemished beacon of true freedom, if only for a short while. The ice in her voice and her eyes had been like Tinek's own brand of fire - icy hot; a burn to his very soul. Now, her reprimands were a bore, and her frosty stares and words did nothing but cause him to sigh wearily. Now, she was nothing. She had lost whatever it was, when she had begged his brother to give her back her memories.
Now as he listened, his vast mind laughing at the words exchanged between Murder and Ophelia, he felt as if he was looking at a shell of what she had been, of what she could be. Even before Ros was born, at least Ophelia had the animation of spirit to yell at him. Now, she merely accepted apologies and gave heartfelt condolences, in crystalline passive-aggressive tones. Did she even wear the amulet he had given her, to call upon him should she need it?
And an even more terrifying thought, did she need him?
Once the mellow-dramatic soap opera moment was over, between Murder and Ophelia, the God cast a cool, uncaring gaze towards the plain stallion, snorting a single laugh. "If you want your crows back, you must do two things. The first, is to find 5 avian companions, and bring me a feather from each. The second-" for a moment his eyes sparked, as if ignited with the same electricity that his body produced, "-is to apologize. To me." Darkly he sneered, as he turned back to face Ophelia, caring very little about whether or not the stallion would accept his terms.
His blue gaze shifted to where Ros was still suckling, before moving back to Ophelia, as if trying to weigh whether or not he would respect her wishes to protect their child from his words. Or was it actually just from him? Shifting his weight easily, he leaned casually as he grappled with the decision. Was it even worth it, to stay and hash things out with Phi? Was it worth his time (ha-ha)? Deciding that, in light of the creature he had once found so compelling, the true mother of his child, he would bear this conversation to its end, if only so that it would be finished once and for all.
"You know where to find me." He said to Murder, without shifting his gaze from Ophelia. With a dull and staticy POP, the stallion, as well as his dead crows, disappeared. For a moment, it appeared as though he would say something to his child, as his enigmatic gaze washed over her. Would he introduce himself? Win her over with a few witty words? Gritting his teeth, he snorted loudly, showering both Irry and Ros in a halo of sparks, which enveloped their forms, displacing them into the heart of the Foothills.
Before Ophelia could object, the God wearily closed his eyes and shook his stout head. "They are fine. All of them. Time grows short...things are...happening..." he advised, rather ambiguously. Nostrils flared, he raised his head slightly, but did not move any closer, although it was impossible to tell if this pleasing or not. In that moment he appeared...different, as uninformative as that adjective is. His appearance was at the same time both more, and less Godlike than ever before. The winds of time blurred behind him, displacing and erasing the scenery which should have been trees and grasses, and replacing it with violet mountains and crystalline blue water. His eyes had lost their immortal spark, and instead looked mortal, and almost kind without their icy sheen of indifference.
"Let's have it then." He said simply, void of emotion or implication.
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[O] darkness ever growing { Irrydae/Anyone }
