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

Ophelia listened to Harold's tangent about the safety of Yharnam, internally sighing at the realisation that she would have to participate in this conversation many moments more to get everything that she needed. She wanted to get away from this place, despite how enchanting the Lumenflowers were, and she especially wanted to get Torquil and Farren away--she was about reaching the limit of how much of Farren's nauseating obsequiousness she could stomach, and wanted to spare him the indignity of it besides.

"That is a pressing concern, yes, and we will most certainly investigate... but, imagine this, we are fighting our way through Yahar'gul--no doubt defended by an army of Followers with arcane relics at their disposal--and the results of your experiments... sever our connection to the Dream, or disrupt it somehow for even a moment. The hook slips loose, and we sink beneath the waters never to be seen again... and this is a real possibility, love. I cannot allow us to take on so immensely dangerous a proposition while a threat to our safety lurks in the reaches of my mind... so I will need to be caught up to speed on your experiments and results, dear, and pick your brain besides. Then... we can stop whatever's happening in Yahar'gul. I know, being such a nice old man, that you want what's best for us all--and that you know keeping us in the dark can't possibly be best for everyone." Ophelia spoke, her voice beginning to sound a little weary at the edges. She managed to retain her positive affect, and tried her best to be respectful, but her patience truly was wearing thin--and looking at Gerlinde's no-doubt mischievous countenance out of the corner of her eye wasn't helping. She hoped the Vicar would just acquiesce, but a sinking feeling in her stomach whispered to her that he wouldn't, that this tired charade would continue, and she tried very hard to suppress how that made her feel.