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

With her wrath spent and only an aching void of loss and sadness left within her, Ophelia didn't even really hear or register any of Farren's words as hot and bitter tears cascaded down her face. Whatever she'd felt about Farren's outburst fell away beneath the sorrow, her world consumed by the torrent of feelings, and she merely slumped to the ground in front of the headstone openly weeping. It was true that she felt deeply and gravely insulted by Farren--for one who supposedly valued the sanctity of his own mind and the ability to make his own choices, it was an outrageous hypocrisy to prevent her from making her own choices with what to do with her mind... and she was incapable at that moment of looking at the situation logically to realise that those feelings were not, in fact, emblematic of reality.

As she heaved and sobbed and sniffled, gently cradling her blade, she turned her head up to look at the light of the full moon in the sky only to find that it was not there at all, only the dying rays of golden sun. It did nothing to allay her tears or slow her racing heartbeat, and there in that moment she felt closer than ever to being truly alone like she so desperately feared might happen to her after the Witches were gone. It took her a few moments to gather enough of her wits to even stand, and she did so with all the grace of a newborn foal--uncharacteristically stumbling over herself and taking a few attempts. She dried the tears from her face with her sleeve and finally turned back around to face everyone--having virtually no awareness of what had happened over the past few moments she was not sure who it was she'd turn around to see.