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

Ophelia almost staggered in awe at the scale of the illusion, immediately looking around the location of the illusion from past the strange threshold that they passed over. She knew it was possible, of course, to layer things beneath gossamer sheets of Nightmare to hide them from those whose eyes were insufficient... but something of this scale? She'd not suspected a thing--it was truly only Mother Moon's light and her blade's cosmic power that had availed her of the illusion... and she wondered who could possibly have created such a thing. Naira? If that was true, her grasp of things had accelerated at a rate Ophelia balked at the idea of... but they knew that long-lost Great Ones had become active suddenly, and if what Harold said was true, they were trying to beckon one into the Waking World here. Perhaps it was something to do with them? A Great One's work seemed much more likely than a mere mortal having this kind of affinity with the Arcane... though her awareness had expanded recently, and she knew that beings like herself and Gerlinde existed. One would need access to something like the Doll, or... or perhaps with enough minds' study and enough sacrifice mortals could create things like this. 

"What an exceptional weaving of the Nightmare... The Witches taught me to shelter objects of importance in layers of silk-soft Nightmare, to cloud them from the eyes of the unseeing, but this is on another level. What incredible works they are capable of here... Gosh, we'll have to learn how they did this before we resort to murder. I'd love to know..." Ophelia sighed breathily, clearly most overtaken by awe of the craftsmanship of what she was observing. She followed the glimmering moon-motes next, seeing them siphoned from the bound beast along chains and up to the various other bits of architecture--a wooden beam, clearly for maintaining the illusion of the wall... and then again to the Gatehouse at the end of the alcove that they'd found themselves into. 

She found herself oddly drawn to the beast, though its uncanny look of being almost-human elicited in her a strange sympathy rather than her usual antagonism towards beasts. She could imagine a person transforming into something reprehensible like Izzy had, of course, but she could also imagine its inverse: one who did not [i]want[/i] to become a beast, and resisted it as best as they could. While she would mercilessly put down practically anything that gave into the base and savage nature of truly embraced beasthood, something that resisted... Well, to them she would offer aid. She walked towards the creature, its eyeless face shifted in her general direction, and she approached it until she was a little less than the length of the Holy Moonlight Sword away from it. She hefted the blade very gently towards the beast such that the glimmering light could illuminate its stark and sparse fur, hovering just above its snout, though held very delicately. It could not see, of course, but Ophelia did not emanate any desire to do the beast harm--she did not know if it could sense such a thing at all, but here where the Nightmare was close she thought perhaps her sympathy might be felt on a level beyond the norm.

"You with no eyes to see... I wonder, can you see them? The motes. The guidance. Can you see her, shining there in the dark?" Ophelia whispered, hoping to offer the best some semblance of the comfort she knew in the dark. Mother Moon's light was always there, playfully dancing, revealing truths and the path to glory. After the profound agony she'd felt in the Nightmare here earlier with the Dream rune... she did not want to add to that song, but weave a new one. One of understanding and illumination under the gentle embrace of the Moon, an age of light that could reveal as well as hide... and every song that had ever been made was composed of individual notes like this one. If the beast acted aggressively towards her at all she would suddenly take a very different attitude, of course, but for now it had her sympathy.