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

Ophelia's gaze travelled up towards her Mother Moon, brighter in the sky now but still not at her full glory, and she felt a serenity envelop her that mere words lacked the capacity to describe. It was more like a Caryll Rune than it was their unworthy language, like when the Holy Moonlight Sword had first revealed the Guidance rune to her, like a hundred books condensed into a single instant and allowed to wash over her. She turned to meet Vicar Harold's gaze not with the growing frustration she'd had a moment ago, but with a moon-bright sparkle in her eyes that would no doubt betray her own sharpness--and she smiled just as softly and wisely as he did.

"You're right, love, there is so much that I don't know... and I hope you see my outburst only as the concerns of a devoted witch whose sight yet lacks the clarity and discernment you embody. If you would elevate this humble servant to a higher plane of understanding, I can in turn offer you insights about the Dream that only one truly connected to it by its own means could offer--as well as one who has direct communion with the Moonborn Hunter. I know that together we can reach the greatest understanding, and your vision for a safer Yharnam can be executed." Ophelia spoke, her tone suddenly reproachful and reverent. There was too much that she needed from Harold, too many resources and connections to forfeit, for her to declare war on him and end him utterly here and now--though some part of her yearned for the violence, it too had seen the light. It knew that its time would come, and that clarity was not 'no', it was simply 'not now'--and in that, it contentedly rested beneath the placid lake of Ophelia's mind, biding its time and waiting for the moment to strike. She was no experiment, and sworn wholly to her Mother Moon. Harold would rue this day, and face the pitiless judgment of this lunar witch when and only when Mother Moon desired it so.