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

Ophelia turned her attention to the matter of the Lightbeast a ssoon as it was raised, stepping away from the corpse of the Darkbeast and its head--beginning to quietly seethe to herself that it had no eyes for her to take--and over towards it and Gerlinde. She looked at the Lightbeast with an expression that shifted from sated and proud to deeply melancholy, and she walked up to the creature with a determined but subdued gait.

"This... this was a person once, I think." Ophelia began, and as she stood directly in front of the creature she brought her right hand up to gently place it upon the side of their snout. "Just like the Hunters who didn't make it through the experiment... I... I don't know if I can. I think what makes a beast is... in nature, not in form. Who knows if this one has given in to base desire and instinct? If they haven't, I can't kill them... not while some of them remains. Do you understand us, love? I see you moving your head to whichever of us speaks..." Ophelia began, addressing the Lightbeast directly. She thought of the languid sigh that it'd emitted before, and figured that speech was perhaps beyond it--but perhaps it might nod or... do something? Her heart swelled with pity, thinking how the poor creature had been subjected to the awful voltaic power of that Darkbeast that she'd suffered only once and knew that if she never experienced it again it would be too soon. The matter was something that sparked a deep conflict that had been burning within her for the past few hours, as she'd begun to evaluate where her hatred of beasts came from--and the way it rattled her was, sadly, plain upon her face.