Ophelia
Struggle she does, but it is not a slight when Ophelia realizes what emotion it is that flickers in the crevices of Wessex’s sharp features. Instead they smile, nose wrinkling and eyes squinting as if every muscle has devoted itself to the act now they finally have reason to smile after so many years. Ice shard eyes drift down to Loki as she saunters in, and as if incapable of leaving the noise unanswered chirps back in imitation just as before.
Nimble pale fingers pluck one of the dresses, and hesitate moments before pressing it to their front, realizing belatedly their current garment is still stained. Moments later it is discarded over their head, no sense of shame or self-consciousness in their body even in front of their queen. The new dress is slipped on, and Ophelia gives a twist of their hips to send the hem twirling, grinning down at it and listening with one ear as Wessex speaks.
Turning, their hands smooth the fabric around their ribs. “I considered for years what it is I’d like to do,” they start, a hand lifting to free their vision, unnervingly unblinking as it is. Ascension hadn’t been the origin of that habit, but it had certainly worsened it. “I would like to be an emissary. Spreading word, compiling accounts in written form. But I have spoken to Mabel of training -” amongst stacks of vellum and ink, hands tearing and desecrating freely, “- and realized I am quite unassuming. I have few moral qualms that keep me from killing and harming those who would hurt us.” It is spoken with a startling frankness, which only lends credence to the words themselves. “I would have to learn more than basic wielding of tools, but we have all the time in the world.” No need to sleep, eat, and only basic rest and refueling.
Nimble pale fingers pluck one of the dresses, and hesitate moments before pressing it to their front, realizing belatedly their current garment is still stained. Moments later it is discarded over their head, no sense of shame or self-consciousness in their body even in front of their queen. The new dress is slipped on, and Ophelia gives a twist of their hips to send the hem twirling, grinning down at it and listening with one ear as Wessex speaks.
Turning, their hands smooth the fabric around their ribs. “I considered for years what it is I’d like to do,” they start, a hand lifting to free their vision, unnervingly unblinking as it is. Ascension hadn’t been the origin of that habit, but it had certainly worsened it. “I would like to be an emissary. Spreading word, compiling accounts in written form. But I have spoken to Mabel of training -” amongst stacks of vellum and ink, hands tearing and desecrating freely, “- and realized I am quite unassuming. I have few moral qualms that keep me from killing and harming those who would hurt us.” It is spoken with a startling frankness, which only lends credence to the words themselves. “I would have to learn more than basic wielding of tools, but we have all the time in the world.” No need to sleep, eat, and only basic rest and refueling.
Say my name and every color illuminates
We are shining - and we will never be afraid again
We are shining - and we will never be afraid again
