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

"Then we never stood a chance anyway, Farren, don't you see? The Dream... it calls to us for a purpose, and shelters us until its objective has been accomplished. If this is what we are meant to do, we must face it at some point. There's much in the Waking World to occupy us yet, of course, but Ego's influence grows as we go about. We can't trust Harold, of course, but perhaps a conversation with him while we bear the Mask rune might reveal something? Perhaps he'll reveal nothing to us while he knows we have a tool in our arsenal to combat Ego's influence? There are so many possibilities, love, but none of them mean a damn thing if we don't know where we're going and what we're doing. We can delay, if that'd make you feel better, but... ah, surely you must miss the presence of the Mask rune? Would you like me to reapply it?" Ophelia replied, straining to keep herself focused between the twin lures of indignance and compassion. She understood Farren's apprehension completely, but so many had wandered the paths of Nightmare without purpose and gotten lost. How many versions of the Shopkeeper had it taken to get to where we were today? How many others had been beckoned here in ages long since gone?