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

Ophelia's mind became focused and clear upon the first peal of that unnatural sound, something about it felt so... not familiar, but not [i]unfamiliar[/i] either. She could not rightly describe the proverbial (and perhaps literal) chord that it struck with her, and she immediately looked around her surroundings to see if there was another pool of glowing light for a Mad One to crawl up out of. Based on her positioning she still had the beastman's corpse in her sights, and she had noted the strange glint of light coming from within it before the second ring sounded. She did not know what was happening, but based on that wheezy, raspy, and most importantly [i]smarmy[/i] comment from the pallid man.

"Kill him!" Ophelia urged again, her voice now taking on a slightly more guttural aspect and a resonance that did not match her lithe and kindly features. She pointed her spear down at the beastman and his rapidly regenerating injuries, knowing that her cry would serve as instruction for both groups: for the Yharnamites in the clinic to turn upon the pallid man, and for Victor and Torquil to ready themselves to attack the beastman as it rose up. The healing process was beginning, and as Ophelia blinked in the heat of the moment it was already over--like they'd done nothing at all. Communion with the arcane was never simple, and never without risk--even her beloved mentors had been careful about how much and often they called upon the forces that lurked beyond the thin veneer of reality as most knew it... She made an educated guess to herself that the beastman could be brought back only a limited number of times, but she was even more certain that simply slaying the pallid one would end the whole fight.

Ophelia wanted to make another attack directly on the beastman, to strike at it as it was rising from the ground, but the wide sweep presented by the Mad One meant she would have to take evasive action rather than attack... though if she could do what Farren had, and what she'd sometimes seen Hunters do peeking behind her curtains on nights of the hunt prior, she might be able to do both... but she figured that she likely would not be able to do a great deal until it had been softened up again by more furious blows from Torquil and Victor. She noticed Victor's squeamishness and wondered why she didn't feel the same way--perhaps it was just the burning heat of the transformation, perhaps it was just adrenaline. It didn't really matter--directing this mismatched lot towards victory was what mattered, and so Ophelia called upon that surge of inhuman strength and speed laying within her to dash backwards four or five feet, solidly out of the way of the cane swipe, and inviting the Mad One to chase her down. That would free up the doorway so one of them could get in and butcher the pallid man if the Yharnamites inside didn't listen to her again. The surge of bestial strength was greater than she expected, however, and she ended up seven or eight feet back instead--and she couldn't keep the look of surprise off of her face at the sheer distance she now appeared to be capable of. 

She beckoned to it with the spear in her hands, trying to get its attention, though she felt the sting of the heat in her lungs at her exertion and made a note to herself not to try and do that [i]too[/i] much--she'd hardly been hale and healthy before the transfusion, unlike Torquil and Farren, and she was certain she could not exert herself as much as they... and it was already clear that her mind was the brightest among them by a significant margin--they were each good at quite different things, it seemed, which was really quite fortuitous. Perhaps oddly so.