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

Ophelia felt a sense of panic rising in her, distant and as though preserved in amber, at the realisation that Farren was going to overplay their hand and there was nothing that she could do about it. She reckoned that Harold must rely very much on his ability to manipulate the minds of the people around him, and that his role was one of a puppetmaster--though as she turned to look at the Lumenflowers in passing as her gaze wandered over to Gerlinde, she could not help but feel there was some truth to what Moira had said and that this frail old man was nothing more than an affable front for a more sinister force.

Still--there were rare jewels of knowledge in what he imparted to her: the names of the three Great Ones that perished. In names there was power, and they provided pinpricks of distant starlight for her to aspire to and travel towards. She gave Gerlinde a look, one of a peer recognising a peer in... either contempt or pity for those around them who were not able to resist the influence of Harold--though she did not attempt to incite the girl to violence, just shared a knowing look and offered a rare moment of connection.

"Lovely--such an invitation is quite the honour, dear. I'll wait until we can all visit, though--these secrets pertain most of all to Farren and to Torquil. They need to see it as well. This Crowmother is something we're looking into, of course, but Moira seemed to have most of it handled herself. A Hunter will Hunt, after all, and she's caught a whiff of prey!" Ophelia replied, curtseying to the Vicar slightly more stiffly than she usually did. She kept the act up less for him, knowing that he knew about her resistance to him by now, but for Farren. He seemed... deferent in a way that she had not expected of him, and had felt his presence move towards her in a heated moment earlier--she would keep whatever peace seemed to exist in his addled mind, for she did not for even a second consider leaving him alone in the presence of the Vicar. She would truly sooner slay him and Torquil both to safely return them to the Dream than give Harold even a single instant of unsupervised access to them, vulnerable as they were. Something about the Holy Moonlight Sword seemed to resonate with that feeling, and Ophelia wondered if the feelings of virtue gleaming within her were the same chivalry that the sword's previous chosen had felt. If they had stood under Mother Moon too, and either meted out her justice or served as the agent of her protection. She stood, watching over the situation hawkishly, exhibiting something of the particular mixture of paranoia and vigilance that Farren normally did.

"We don't think it's a particular priority, right now, certainly not compared to this threat at Yahar'gul... but we will keep you updated, of course. I know that it must be difficult to ascertain the truth of what is happening out there from these lofty heights, and that the reports of those of us closer to the ground are what keep you connected to your extant flock." Ophelia added, not trying to steer the conversation away from the Crowmother, per se, but simply wanting to hasten it to its end so they could all proceed together.