Life's little Questions
10-15-2013, 02:37 AM
 The white saboteur moved listlessly along an invisible route, head handing heavy and eyes downcast, only barely registering the elements in the surrounding area. Winter had accosted Alacritis, a land to which she felt no less displaced than from the lands of her birth. The chill was bearable if only just, nowhere near as harsh and inhospitable as the northern hemisphere where she had once staked her claims. But the fact remained that the shortened days would only grow colder with time, life less abundant, distractions few and safety a passing commodity to the fortunate few. Alone, her odds of survival were greatly dependent on her location and mindset, the latter of which had never really set correctly after betraying his family in a bid for the illusion of freedom. Now her scent blew in the wind, the scent of mountain air and flowering cedar trees. The day had progressed without much event aside from a barely filling meal and a few hours spent inspecting the adjoined territories. It wasn't as if Ophelia had anything better to do. She smiled meekly, sitting down by the coast but remaining distant enough that the waves couldn't touch her. "What am I to do here?" Ophelia hummed to the void that sat before sweet, blush-colored eyes. The sunlight dashed the skies with its tradition spectrum of violet dyes and slashes of orange and brighter yellows. She didn't much like sunsets, they always reminded her of the evenings spent deceiving another. She had never wanted to be a saboteur. A fisher or perhaps adviser if she were so bold to want it, was more her speed. The fates had dealt her an unfavorable hand and there was no way for her to change what had already been done. Or so Ophelia had been led to believe. "Was the sunset just like this back home?" she questioned, referring to no day in particular but to the hundreds spent beneath a cold sun, waiting to snare a victim she had no qualm with. But more than that the eventual betrayal, the blatant treason she had committed for the sake of a possible future shaped by her own paws, coiled in the depths of her mind. And she remembered the sunset on that day, a bleeding, hateful scene had loomed over her as she fled. Her joints ached all over again, her heart raced as if she were still running - '[/i]I am still running aren't I?[i]' she thought vacantly, frowning tightly at the sloshing waves. Speech,  |
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