-Octavia-

"You're inviting us on a journey that would lead to our inevitable deaths? It's just what I've always dreamed of," Aria quipped, not entirely in jest. Though not always one to flirt with death, Aria did have a penchant for taking calculated risks. With the current condition of the world, it was not wise to assume Sombra would sit idly in Equestria whilst the rest of equinity sat in contentment. It was therefore, then, that she concluded she would meet death on her own terms, if it was coming after her as surely as the night comes after the day. Though she could give input on Harcourt's other questions, she would not be the mare to determine the fates of those around her. Those decisions lied solely with them. "I guess I'm in. I'll be holding my tongue for the time being, though."

How unfortunate. It seems you have quite a lot on your hooves already. But I remain undeterred. The pony in my signature will suffice. I unfortunately never was satisfied with the mane style...so if perhaps you might utilize this style instead? http://orig00.deviantart.net/5491/f/2015/286/4/b/monotone_at_the_gala_by_wubtavia-d9czoj5.png Of course, not having given her tail a makeover, it wouldn't match...alas. I suppose the easiest thing would be to just...re-envision the image in your style? Bah, perhaps it isn't easy at all...I am not familiar with all the nuances of art, forgive me. And might I just compliment you on your more subtle style.

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Phlegmatic first and foremost, I guess, but I can just as easily be Melancholic.

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Or DJ 3PZ, if you want even more edge.

"I would not have you speak to others upon my vessel in such a manner." Aria, whose eyes had been drinking in the intoxicating flurry of movements betwixt the two fighters, had stepped down from the wheel upon seeing the commotion unfolding. "Your anger is understandable, but you may no more order Lilith to leave than you may the sun from the day. Especially when it was not her who was fighting," she said, nodding to the remaining vestiges of red fading from the edges of her cloak. "Tell me. Do you believe these two would knowingly put others in danger? After all they have done to save what remains of this band of survivors?"

I have a tattoo of sorts, but not of ink. It is a word permanently etched into my arm. Some days it is inspiring, giving light to the present and future when I am feeling confident in my life. Other days it is a curse from the past, weighing upon me and instilling a despair I thought I had overcome. Well...it's part of what defines me now, and I just have to accept it. Would be nice to get a more positive image someday, though indecision will most likely result in not getting one.

More out of wanting something to do than anything, Aria stood at the wheel on this lazy day, keeping the engine off and letting the crisp wind take hold of the ship. Sunlight shared in the excitement of the waves, dancing across the ocean in abandon. Lilting voices carried across the deck as refugees enjoyed the peace afforded by the ship, finally free of Death's looming embrace. With a sigh, Aria's body slumped over the wheel in a mixture of contentment and resignation as she eyed the endearing equines. One manifestation of Death, at any rate... After falling into Despair several nights ago, Aria had awoken to the sight of starry salvation. How peculiar it was that—for the first time since she had lost her magic—she had been visited by those thoughts that had once threatened to dissolve her. Assailed every night thereafter by similar visions, she pondered that in which she had felt assured. Always it was the same question, and always the answer was ever elusive. Insidious imagery instilled illusory identities, insisting iniquities in insipid ideals. Despite these inquiries, she knew she could look to her guiding star to always keep her on course. It was of her she thought as a small smile played upon her lips, steering her away from unwanted ideals as she let the peace of the moment wash over her.

Ha! Well, 'twould certainly be an experience, but I imagine my writing would be a bit different than the ideal style of a Staff Writer. I may well just toss in some bits and hope for the best, though. Now, where is that magical fountain...?

Watching my strings unravel. Should prolly pick up a few more sets. Another $20 down the drain.

Pretty good from where I'm standing, because I don't put much stock into opinions of people. Hell, even when I was a Blank Flank I was walking around the place like I had been here for years. Confidence becomes me.

It's marvelous, love. Thank you for the time and effort.

Just read his Blog.

A circle has no beginning. Malinter's answer is also sound.

Was there ever any doubt? I already have the tickets reserved.