Tuujaimaa

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Ophelia

"Mm, it would seem that the Shopkeeper's assistance comes with a price indeed. That's the only thing different as best as I can tell. Ah, well, now we know. Mother Moon gleams all the brighter without cretins such as he to blemish her light, and Dietrich'll be terribly pleased. Oh, he's lovely--a consummate gentleman. Should... should we go after Victor? I'd hate for anything to happen to him. Otherwise, we could retire to the Dream so a proper conversation can be had away from prying eyes... and if so, I've an idea. I'll ask the little ones to send Gerlinde a message, ask her to meet us in the Dream. What I've discovered about the White Healing Church concerns us all, she deserves to know. What do we all think? Try and save Victor from whatever horrors lurk out here, or retire to the Dream?" Ophelia replied, the menace fading from her eyes as she mentioned Dietrich and recalled her time spent earlier. The juxtaposition of scenes like this, bloody and visceral and dangerous, against the clean and organised whiteness of the Healing Church. Against the gentle garden of the Hunter's Dream, where Mother Moon's light shone so abundantly. From bliss to horror and back, with no notion of which was truly which... She could see how such a thing might imperil one's sense of self. Fortunately, she had the glorious light of the cosmos by her side--it would always help her return to clarity and focus, moon-bright thoughts resonating in perfect synchronicity.

She awaited a response from Farren, mostly, as the Shopkeeper and Torquil seemed to be as laconic as they usually were.

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Ophelia

Ophelia observed the solitary mote of moonlight about Torquil's person with a gentle interest, quickly remembering to hand him one of the antidotes and explaining its purpose in a perfunctory tone: "If you get ashen blood, this'll alleviate things until you can return to the Dream." With that done she began to snake over towards the grisly scene of Skinner's demise with long and loping steps. She peered over Farren to examine the carnage, and gave the Shopkeeper a graceful curtsy as she turned to look at them.

"We're grateful for your assistance, love. The tales of your might weren't exaggerated--I'm glad we could give you an opportunity to hunt once more. Though... this seemed like perhaps not much of a challenge for you!" She said, looking Farren up and down and surveying the scene around them with some interest. It seemed like much had gone on here in quite a short amount of time, and Farren seemed especially put through the ringer with the rips in his clothes and stains of blood strewn all about the scene. She nodded down at him thoughtfully, before presenting him with the five extra blood vials as well as the antidote.

"Seems we've both been busy, dear. Where's Victor?" She smiled, though it was not a particularly kindly smile like he was used to seeing from her. Her eyes seemed focused on the distance, paths that Victor could've travelled, and making assessments about what might've happened here. She still seemed full of energy, or... perhaps wrath, not yet spent on the object of her distaste.

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Ophelia

Ophelia scarcely had time to blink before the Moonborn Hunter had rocketed off in search of prey--and Ophelia was stunned for a moment by seeing the sheer speed of which they were capable. When she found herself in command of her faculties again she could hear the buildup of something that sounded an awful lot like static, and a quick inhalation through her nose gave her the slightest hint of charge, almost like ozone or the smell of a work of arcane communion about to take place. She pressed herself back against the very rear of the lift, certain to avoid the switch, and not a moment later the fulgurous cascade of energy washed over the area, its cobalt-blue actinic light the only assault that managed to reach her, for the structures and mechanisms of the lift protected her from the rest.

She stepped out after that, eyes looking around for familiarity, and she found Torquil immediately. She rushed over to him, standing by his side, as she watched the Moonborn Hunter and Farren chase up on the whimpering and begging Skinner. Truly, he was a beast even to the end--prompted to fawn, and then when truly backed into a corner having given in to that base savagery she detested so. She gave Torquil a quick visual assessment to see if he was hurt, already counting five vials out from her pack as her eyes did their work. She'd hand them to him hastily and make sure he was okay before turning back to observe the carnage. If they got too far for her to see comfortably she'd follow along, keeping her distance twenty or so feet behind them if it came to that. She also prepared the little vial of quicksilver, ready to anoint the Holy Moonlight Blade and strike out against Skinner if he tried anything untoward.

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Ophelia

Ophelia hadn't begun sprinting at the first gunshot--that could've been anything at all. Hearing random, errant gunshots on a Night of the Hunt was no more irregular than anything else... but the second was enough to make Ophelia begin to sprint as quickly as she could. The path they'd followed was obvious--not footprints, exactly, but markers of where they'd been and where Ophelia needed to go. She was frighteningly quick now, quicker than she'd ever thought would be possible, but this pace was going to tire even her suddenly extraordinary stamina. It'd be okay--there'd be time to stop and rest before she joined... well, what she presumed was the confrontation, but she really didn't have any idea. She'd heard of this 'Skinner' before, though--hushed and horrified whispers, hearkened to by harrowed and haunted hanger-ons... tales of sadistic violence, of corpses missing entire swathes of their skin. Ophelia knew well the kind of determination and precision that such macabre butchery required from her time in Hemwick taking bodies apart... and she knew that to enjoy it on such a primal level was a sure sign of a beast. Perhaps not by blood, or by disease, but by kinship--but spirit, and sympathy.

She reckoned that beings like that, like the Pallid man and his little runt, like this "Soulkeeper" or "Corval" or "Skinner"... they all needed to die. The heat did not return to her as it did before, her blood cooled as it was by the glorious light of Mother Moon. She felt only a cold and cresting radiance, searing yet frigid, like all the coolness and pitilessness of night but the incandescence of day--and it spurred her to action not in that rash and violent way, but conniving and concentrated. She took the little bell, the Moonborn Bell, and withdrew it from her person right as she stepped onto the elevator. She noticed that it had already returned up for her--and could spot the smudges from footwear having recently padded across it. She rang it soulfully and pleadingly, measured and focused, and she whispered a little prayer under her breath:

"Come, Moonborn Hunter, and let us grace them all with Her radiance. I call you to Hunt, dear, for the night will be long."

After the Moonborn Hunter materialised, Ophelia operated the lift to send it down once again--ready to continue looking for Farren, Torquil and Victor.

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Ophelia

Ophelia giggled softly at the explanation, nodding her head towards the Shopkeeper. "Whenever we face an exceptional foe, I shall summon you. If it is within my grasp to help you achieve your desires, I would be honoured to repay your kindness. It would indeed be a shame to miss the Hunt, wouldn't it? And don't worry about the runebrand, love, I'll bring it back safe and sound. There's a power in these rituals, sentimental and foolish though they seem." Ophelia spoke and then quickly darted up into the small workshop to grab the rune workshop tool, immediately bending down to call forth the messengers in the same movement.

"Look after this for me, please, little ones--keep it safe."

Then Ophelia rushed down to the headstone that they'd all used to leave earlier, gave the Doll a grateful curtsey, and pressed a spindly finger to Rebirth's Rise. She felt the sleep overtaking her again, and she took one long last look at her Mother Moon in the sky before slipping into the depths of slumber to awaken in the waking world. Upon waking she loped quickly over to the entrance and its makeshift barricade, before using a quicksilver bullet like the Holy Moonlight Sword had whispered to her earlier. She bade its light come forth to cleanse the mundane dross of the waking world that stood between her and her goal, thrusting the heft of the blade forward directly into the a gap towards the top right corner of the pile. She didn't know how big this explosion would be, yet, and thought it prudent to learn--she studied it eagerly, awaiting the rapturous sight of the cosmos gracing her once more with feverish desire.

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Ophelia

Ophelia took the offered gun with a grateful curtsey, before using that same motion to crouch down and beckon the little ones--only to find them already clamouring at her feet with a scroll. She found herself unable to concentrate on it initially, for the Holy Moonlight Sword's whispers had resonated sonorously with her mind and informed her of its extended arcane abilities. She blinked a couple of times rapidly and shook her head, taking a deep breath in, and refocused on the scroll from the Messengers as she exhaled slowly and methodically.

She nodded her head and bade the little ones reply once more: "Going to break barricade. We're in only entrance. Got to protect sleepers from 'Skinner'."

Ophelia then turned to the Doll and the Shopkeeper once more, eyes wide and bright and filled with curiosity that sparkled like moonlit dew.

"The bells you gave us, to summon you into the waking world... Do you enjoy the fight, Shopkeeper? Is it... a boon that we can grant you, to live again outside this Dream, or a failsafe to be used only in moments of direst need? What do you have to say, little ones?" Ophelia asked, first to the Shopkeeper (and Doll), and then down to the little ones that would no doubt come as soon as her intentions were made clear.

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Ophelia

Ophelia nodded thoughtfully as the Doll relayed information about Gerlinde, and Ophelia's face softened somewhat and a gentle smile revealed just a hint of her teeth.

"Ah--having never spoken with her, I'm simply scrambling to put bits of information together. I'm relieved to hear that she sees it too, and that Moira did in her time here. I thank you both for your wisdom, loves. Now... I have a little request: the runebrand, might I take it into the waking world for a brief time? I wish to mark those Hunters who'd fight beside us with what protection I can offer, and... Well, I know it sounds silly, but some time I'd like to take it back to Hemwick. Just for a moment, just for myself, to... I don't know, really. Honour the Witches' memory? Something like that; it would... comfort me, I think." Ophelia spoke, the smile not leaving her face but a mournful twinkle sparking within her eyes.

"I... Suppose I should take a gun, too... Do you have a recommendation, Shopkeeper? I find myself quite unfamiliar with them, and would appreciate your sage guidance." Ophelia added, blinking twice in rapid succession as the wistfulness left her and was replaced with determined grit. While she waited for them to speak their piece in return she idly fidgeted with the mercury-filled canister that Dietrich had filled for her, taking it from its resting place and popping the cap open. She ran her finger delicately along the sharpened edge of the Holy Moonlight Sword to draw blood, though the wound healed nearly instananeously, and let the few drops of blood that emerged beforehand to drip gently into the phial.

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Ophelia

"Ahh, Mother Moon, what a blessing to be beneath your gaze once more..." Ophelia sighed reverently, looking up at the refulgence of the moon with adoration plain across her face. She turned her gaze down to the Messengers once they appeared, and she laughed softly and sweetly and placed her free hand to her breast with another sigh, this one filled with relief. She read the scroll eagerly before asking the little ones to scribe a message for her in return.

"Understood. Just returned to Dream - no little ones in White Church. Discovered a lot. Got supplies for us all. Joining you as soon as I can."

That done she sent them away with a grateful nod, and she strode over to the Shopkeeper and Doll with a clear sense of urgency.

"... I think we have a problem, love. The gold markers--there are lanterns much like this one, albeit with gold instead of silver... and they rest upon these golden plinths--a meter tall, decorated with eyes and figures bathing in the ocean. None of the little ones appear near them. Whatever it is... I know that this gold is from the realms of Nightmare, but... There is something... very off about it. To say nothing of Vicar Harold," Ophelia began, visibly shuddering as she mentioned the vicar's name. Here in the Dream, where she knew beyond knowledge that she was safe, even thinking about the queer compulsion that she'd only barely and partly resisted made her feel as though her skin was crawling.

"He has them all under some sort of thrall--they all call him a nice old man, with that exact phrasing, and as soon as I laid eyes upon him that thought snaked its way into my mind before I even realised what was happening. If not for Mother Moon and her glorious light, who knows if I'd have been able to resist it? They know of your presence, too, Shopkeeper--it seems Gerlinde has found herself an ersatz home there." Ophelia finished, hurriedly speaking the words. She felt a sense of urgency to rejoin her fellows, after Farren's note, but more than that... She simply felt nauseous, and violated in a way that she was not sure she could articulate, and deeply worried for Dietrich, if he'd fallen under the same spell.

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Ophelia

"Perhaps, perhaps. Though... I do not think this is an ordinary night, love. I find myself conflicted: such a situation would be terrible, yes, but I find myself wanting it to happen regardless. I will have a think; perhaps I can bring my tools here... Though it would have to be our little secret, I'm afraid. They... they are exceedingly precious to me, and I could not bear for something to happen to them. Ah, but look, the others are getting restless. While you were gone I got quite the number of looks--the other women appear to be jealous of all of the attention you've lavished upon me! I will go, now, and return to my comrades--thank you again for everything, dear, and I will hopefully see you again very soon." Ophelia replied, ruminant and a little... perhaps sad, perhaps disappointed.

"Unless there's anything else?" She asked, finally taking a step back to remain at a more socially acceptable distance from the First Hunter. If there was nothing else, she would stride through the workshop (occasionally returning a knowing look to those women who glanced at her enviously) and out towards the lantern that she'd first arrived by. The gold made her uneasy, but she did not have to touch it to gaze into the lantern's gleaming glow and find herself once more being overtaken by the throes of slumber.

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Ophelia

"Fret not, love, you've caused no offence--I only meant to imply that the title is outdated now, nothing more... I was referring to the sword itself, and you its legacy. Perhaps together we can preserve what remains of the chivalry of old, mm? When I asked to see your arms, it was because I could sense something of the Nightmare about you and thought perhaps you might be branded, or marked--but the Holy Moonlight Sword whispered to me the truth. That the Nightmare is not on you, but in you. In your blood. Very faintly, it says... and it says much the same about me, albeit stronger. The Paleblood, I expect. It's... it's very comforting, to know that I am not alone. Ah, but how I wish I could show you..." Ophelia smiled, tilting her head ever so slightly so she could keep both Dietrich and the Holy Moonlight Sword within her gaze at the same time.

Then, suddenly, Ophelia's eyes widened and the corners of her mouth crept up to reveal a smile that could only be found in one who had just had an idea.

"Ah, but I think there is something that I could do for you to repay your grace and kindness! It... it should be possible, yes. You recall that I mentioned Caryll runes earlier, I'm sure--but I did not get the sense that you know what they are, not really. They... they are transliterations of the wisdom of the cosmos and those that rule in the realms of Nightmare. Branded into the mind with a particular tool--one I have access to and know how to use--they grant great power. I know only a scant couple of runes, alas, but the two that I am thinking of could be quite the boon to you in different ways: I know one that can help you see the eldritch Truth, and one that can give a premonition of danger before it is about to strike--surely a boon to any Hunter on a Night of the Hunt! The little ones will not show up here, so I am afraid that I could not do it now, but when you embark on the Hunt tonight... I would be honoured to join you and repay your kindness." Ophelia offered, keeping that short distance between them to be certain that none would overhear.

"Ah, I thought there something familiar about the shape of your blade! It's a magnificent piece of craftsmanship, and almost as resplendent to look upon as its owner. I would love to see you both in action--it must be quite the awe-inspiring sight. I can show you what the Holy Moonlight Sword is capable of, too." Ophelia smiled, giggling a little towards the end.