[center][h2][b]Ophelia[/b][/h2][/center]

Ophelia observed the eye with utterly rapt fascination, to the point even of ignoring any replies directed at her from the others--she peered ever-closer at the eye within the corpse, studying every detail about it with a hunger and curiosity that felt almost visceral. She noted the deterioration of its pupil and its iris most keenly, for it was a sure sign of the scourge of beasts--and she'd hauled many a corpse with eyes not dissimilar to this one after a night of the hunt, when those too blood-drunk to realise they'd crossed a line got mowed down by some hunter or another. Her other-self across the mist looked pensive, appraising even, as she studied her new self with a Hunter's body. A part of her had always wondered what it was like, producing the corpses rather than clearing them away, but... 

Ophelia's attention was snapped back to reality by a bone-chilling howl. It was one that she'd heard a handful of times, for there was a certain almost-familiarity to its timbre, but she could not quite place what it was. Her new instincts, however, responded in kind--her spine straightened, the hairs at the nape of her neck stood up, and something indelible in her focus shifted from the perspective of prey to one of fellow predator. The urge felt hot and sticky within her, and as she peered into the eye of this deceased almost-Hunter she took a sharp intake of breath that cleared some of the heady urges. This was what she was reckoning with, now--and her other-self whispered oft-repeated terms into the back of Ophelia's skull: [i]Fear the Old Blood.[/i] 

Straightening herself up, Ophelia rose to her uncanny natural height and peered over her surroundings one more time, musing aloud while she did so: 

"The eyes... This almost-Hunter here was turning into a beast. The iris and pupil begin to split as the beast grows within; we need to pay attention to things like that now, don't we? It's our job to... to..." she began, before realising that she did not, in fact, have any particular knowledge about what it was they were supposed to be doing. Why they were [i]here[/i] specifically, why there wasn't someone from the Church to... arm them? Garb them? Instruct them? What was she hoping from them, really? She picked her spear up, its rigidity comfortable in her long and slender fingers, before looking around the room--she could use it as a walking stick, yes, but something to carry the ungainly thing in would be necessary. There wasn't anything that'd suffice to hand, but she could make do: she quickly jaunted over to a disused medical station, ripping apart cloths and bandages as necessary to create a holster for the spear about her back. It was a quick job, her hands nimble and surprisingly easy to put exactly where in her mind she wanted them to go--and after maybe a moment's work she turned back to the pale corpse and, in a swift and practiced motion, went to pluck out one of its eyes as intact as it would vacate the skull--she was confident she would not burst it, but it might already have been structurally compromised. Even if it reduced itself to just fluid, there was another eye--Ophelia looked around for a glass container of some kind, perhaps a vial or test tube, that she might be able to somewhat preserve the fluid of the eye if it could not be removed whole.

She also went to pick up a needle as she went, intending to procure a sample of this black and viscous blood too; knowledge of the church's activities and proof of things beyond her ken might be valuable bargaining tools... and these two, Torquil and Farren... they seemed nice. She'd have to get a closer look at their eyes before she really decided anything, but... well, that could wait.