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

Ophelia prepared herself mentally before touching the golden marker, summoning forth whatever reserves of wit and wiles she possessed to see the situation they were about to enter into clearly. As she woke she cradled the Holy Moonlight Sword to her face, and felt... safe. She could feel the gentle radiance of her guiding moonlight protecting her, her familiarity with and affinity for the strange forces at work in this place inuring her against the insidiousness of its influence.

She opened her eyes, and at once she asked the Holy Moonlight Sword a question that occurred to her in that moment: these Lumenflowers, the aura here... was it a part of the same greater whole that the Holy Moonlight Sword was? Were they of the same being, the same influence, or... were these flowers merely another pretender to the name of Mother Moon? The answer resonated in her mind like a clarion call: it does not know what presence exists here, only that the presence is of the Nightmare. No other part of it is here.

With that answered, Ophelia's gaze grew just a hair colder--whatever force was at play here, it was not one that she venerated. She would not be tricked into doing the bidding of another Great One, nor another person--from the moment she picked up the Holy Moonlight Sword, the very instant that it chose her and she chose it, she had been ever sworn to her Mother Moon. She gave Harold a warm and cordial smile, the chilliness of her thoughts hidden, and greeted him in much the same manner:

"Ah, love, it's so good to see you again! It seems events overtook us, and we got split away from Victor... but I reckon he'll be safer on his own anyway. Gerlinde here is such a delight--we came across one another on our journeys, and I must say, we're all quite enamoured with her... I think we'll end up spending much time in one another's company as the night grows e'er longer. Still! As we agreed, I thought it best to bring them here--you must wish to observe the results of your work, and I know my companions have questions about their condition... And I have some questions of my own for you besides, dear, though they can wait until after." Ophelia smiled, attempting to never give Harold a reason to be suspicious of her in the first place. She could see it plain upon Torquil's face that whatever mysterious force existed here had bewitched him--and she daren't attempt to read anything so subtle on Farren's face. If they were bewitched and she played along, there should be no reason for suspicion--and it hadn't escaped her notice that Harold seemed... much less pleased for Gerlinde to be here, if his little grimace was any indication. She thought it would be quite manageable to keep Harold's trust in her--though she hoped Gerlinde wouldn't give the game away.