Ophelia
His silence is remedial, a far cry from their father’s harsh words and long bouts of rages and wailings. They have no way of knowing his thoughts, of defending their choice, but Ophelia has been quietly stalwart in their devotion most of their life. What is another few hours?
Their touch is gentle, and does not shy away from the chill of Aamu’s skin. What little strength they possess is given freely to help hoist him upon the horse, which stands quiet and complacent, well-trained and desensitized from years of farm work. Only when the yet-unnamed man is perched behind them does Ophelia wrap their arms overtop his own where they curl around a thin waist. Holding and embracing freely in return. They were not exaggerating with how they perceive the Ascended after all - he is their first brother, and as such is already cherished. Such is the way of their intrinsic faith.
Directions given, Ophelia squeezes heels against the horse’s sides, redirecting towards the Underground. As the click of hooves on stones resumes, Ophelia slightly turns their head, only enough to better hear the man behind them. “My name is Ophelia,” they offer, still sweet but not at all bashful. “Can you tell me yours? And, if you may, tell me what The Voice is like in person? I have dreamed of her for so long, there is no nervousness within me, but I would appreciate your impression.” To categorize and memorize if nothing else, as is their way.
Their touch is gentle, and does not shy away from the chill of Aamu’s skin. What little strength they possess is given freely to help hoist him upon the horse, which stands quiet and complacent, well-trained and desensitized from years of farm work. Only when the yet-unnamed man is perched behind them does Ophelia wrap their arms overtop his own where they curl around a thin waist. Holding and embracing freely in return. They were not exaggerating with how they perceive the Ascended after all - he is their first brother, and as such is already cherished. Such is the way of their intrinsic faith.
Directions given, Ophelia squeezes heels against the horse’s sides, redirecting towards the Underground. As the click of hooves on stones resumes, Ophelia slightly turns their head, only enough to better hear the man behind them. “My name is Ophelia,” they offer, still sweet but not at all bashful. “Can you tell me yours? And, if you may, tell me what The Voice is like in person? I have dreamed of her for so long, there is no nervousness within me, but I would appreciate your impression.” To categorize and memorize if nothing else, as is their way.
With your naive heart you praise God above
But how's it working for you honey? Do you feel loved?
But how's it working for you honey? Do you feel loved?
