Loneliness was almost a comfort now. Ophelia found it vastly better than falsified cheer and trying to fit herself into a mold she was never meant to be in. The Heroine of Ironheade, Savior Of The Razorgirls- she was just Ophelia all over again. Ophelia the empty vessel, Ophelia daughter of Tear Drinkers. The Rebellion's greatest heroes turned into monsters by their own foolishness. She was living her parents legacy. Like Lars and Lita lived their parents legacy, she was taking on the crown of failure.

She had done everything for them, tried to help, to heal, to save them- but her mother had been right.

"They'll turn on you. They'll turn on you like they did your pop. Don't trust them."

Ophelia wondered if she would have saved herself the heartache if she had listened, or simply stumbled into something worse. She almost had to laugh at the thought, hands shaking as she curled into herself.

Her lean-to was withstanding the winds picking up as the night wore on, but she couldn't find it in herself to really sleep. The dull tiredness was a constant in her chest at this point, making her limbs feel heavy and head fuzzy. Her eyes hurt from crying, dried out and make up caked uncomfortably around the edges. Any other time she would scrub her face clean and force her way through this. Any other time she could find strength and passion.

Now, she felt decidedly empty.

Loneliness was a curse and comfort. She had so much time to think now. So many things to turn over in her head, but no one to talk with. She could finally feel everything she wanted to with no hesitation, but it was all useless. Before she was always busy, with no time to really think to really feel outside of the moment. Now she had all the time in the world.

The wilderness felt so vastly empty without Ironheade within reach. The world had fallen silent, the music had died and left her behind.

Even the Titans had left her to rot. They had chosen their side.

"They'll turn on you. Mark my words, girlie." Her mother slowly shook her head, eyes glassy and tired. Chapped lips brushed across Ophelia's forehead as she tucked the child in for the last time. "None of them will ever trust you."

Ophelia choked a little, stifling a sob as her shaking grew worse. The world had no use for her now, did it? She had given, given, given, given- and the world finally ran out of uses for her. She had nothing else to give. Eddie was just another person who took so much from her, made so many pretty promises that meant so little in the end.

"Go home. Go back to the sea!" Lita screamed at her, snarling as Lars yanked her back, horror written on his face. Only his steady grip kept Lita from swiping at Ophelia. "GET OUT!"

For once, Ophelia was going to follow Lita's advice.