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

A gleam overtook Ophelia's eyes as the motes of light showed to her by the Holy Moonlight Sword were reflected in her pupils, and the whisper poured knowledge directly into the luscious boughs of her mind as she became familiar with a new Rune--something she'd not learned for the longest time, not since that fateful night of the Blood Moon. It promised the glimmers and glimpses of higher understanding offered to creatures native to the worlds beyond ours--to the heirs and heritors of the Nightmare--distilled down into a form that she could understand, a single syllable or thought of their means of communication that her base and unworthy form could comprehend. She turned to the brand at Farren's reply, looking over her shoulder at him as she picked up its familiar heft and prepared herself to receive of its kiss and have the glimmers of Guidance reside in her mind.

So-branded, she answered Farren's question cryptically: "Runes are... well, love, they're hard to explain. Imagine if I could say the word "fight", sear it onto your mind's eye, and have you become suddenly imbued with the knowledge of martial technique. The runes are that, but... with concepts passed down to us from higher beings. I know only a scant few myself, though if we encounter more out there I'll be certain to learn them--there's the "Lake" rune, which hones one's inner eye through the sounds of water, an augur to the eldritch Truth... it gives one impressions of danger just before they are about to happen, reading the reflections of the world. There's the "Eye" rune, ahh... it opens one's inner eyes, lets them see more of the Truth. I bore it myself, long ago. I... well, I think you'd both benefit from the power of the Lake, hmm? Don't worry, dearies... the pain is temporary." 

Something about her demeanour was much more natural here than it ever had been in the waking world, as though more free and uninhibited in the world of dreams. They might think it manic, or simply insane, or not even notice at all--but it was obvious that Ophelia spoke with a familiarity and sincerity that might open their minds to just how much more in tune with the secret ways of the world she was than they. If they, like her, shuddered in exuberance at the brightness of the lambent Moonlight (though they could see little of its true glory like she could), the brightness might illuminate within them an equally dark fear or revulsion: that the price of such insight was curiosity, and her curiosity might lead them places they would prefer not explore. Fear of the unknown was, after all, the oldest fear known to mankind--their cursed inheritance, such as it was.