Ophelia
Ophelia can't match Danta's hipster vivacity, but they make up for it with a dreamy smile and a little, childlike wave as they hop up to the outcrop their two siblings have made camp on. Their ivory tail sways in a content, catlike motion at their heels, legs bare and pale in the summer light beneath rough-cropped shorts.
Instead of sitting with their compatriots Ophelia toes at the outer edge of the fire, enjoying the lick of heat near their shins. "Reporting for duty," they trill with a little twist of their heels in a Dorothy-esque fashion. They're entirely unsure what sort of rocks they need, or how many, but Ophelia often shows up to these things knowing they're needed for manual labor and not much thinking. Someone here must have the answer to that.
Instead of sitting with their compatriots Ophelia toes at the outer edge of the fire, enjoying the lick of heat near their shins. "Reporting for duty," they trill with a little twist of their heels in a Dorothy-esque fashion. They're entirely unsure what sort of rocks they need, or how many, but Ophelia often shows up to these things knowing they're needed for manual labor and not much thinking. Someone here must have the answer to that.
it's peaceful in the deep, either way you cannot breathe
no need to pray - no need to speak
no need to pray - no need to speak
