Tuujaimaa

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Ophelia

Ophelia only looked at Farren dumbfounded, as though profoundly struck, the only thing missing from her shocked and appalled expression an open mouth which was instead replaced by deeply pursed lips. Her knuckles began to grow white at how tightly she was holding the brand, and rather than move to visualise another rune and brand Farren with what he'd asked, she stowed it away on her person and met his gaze.

"My presumptions?" She started, still utterly incredulous, before her tone shifted to that same mocking and sarcastic one that Farren had used earlier with a hint of the teariness and woe that she now hadn't the mental space or energy to fend off. "No, of course, you're right. You are master of the universe and can ordain all its secrets yourself, can't you? Farren the Witch, with all his long years of study and rigour, has a mind of steel that nothing can breach. You seek the power of this brand, Farren, of the knowledge I've been generous enough and courteous enough to share with you? Fine. Go and find your own in Yahar'gul, go and learn your own runes. This one belongs to me, by right! By right not only as daughter of Witches, by right not only as true Paleblood, by right as the chosen of Mother Moon above! May you walk in the golden light of the Sun along your merry path and may it burn you as badly as it's already blinded you!" Ophelia retorted, utterly seething with a mixture of indignant rage, of soul-crushing sorrow, of wounded pride... and above it all, an inalienable sense of righteousness. She turned away from him in a mad huff, heading over towards the path with its many headstones and facing the one labelled 'Unseen'. She didn't make any moves to use it, but simply faced it and breathed shakily and fought back the tears of anger that were gathering in the corners of her eyes.

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Ophelia

Ophelia found Farren's request odd--the Heir rune would certainly not make it easier for him to navigate the Nightmare, except in a terribly roundabout way in which he shifted his focus dramatically and suddenly to the Arcane. She didn't let the confusion show on her face, though, instead just smiling warmly and retrieving the brand to apply a rune to Farren--though as he held out his arm for her to brand him, it was not the Heir rune that she envisioned and began to apply but the Mask rune. This entire outburst reeked of the gilded paranoia and mind-shattering influence of Ego, and she needed him sharp and alert and himself while they planned--not some babbling, bumbling wretch whose fear blinded them to the Light.

"You need the Mask rune." Ophelia spoke, whisper-soft, and turned then to the Doll. "Yahar'gul, then... or Byrgenwerth, perhaps. Runesmith Caryll belonged to Byrgenwerth, but it was the initiates of the School of Mensis from which the Witches learned their most perverse and powerful secrets--though those secrets were always softened and tempered. Until..." Ophelia began, trailing off as she suddenly found herself on the verge of tears. The emotional charge of the exchange hadn't resolved, not really, and being made to think of her missing mentors... She took a shaky breath in through her nose and steeled herself.

"Let's go to the Black Workshop. I've Dietrich to find and you've Fulmen to hand over. Though I suppose it'll be a little while before Torquil's done doffing his armour and Gerlinde's done applying the gem to her weapon..." she said, suddenly shifting the topic over to their next course of action.

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Ophelia

"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?

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Ophelia

Ophelia stayed shockingly calm at Farren's outburst, the memories of her letting her indignance get the better of her and sour things with Victor still fresh in her mind. She let him speak, let his sharp tongue try to cut at her in self defence, and felt his wild exhortations pass over her like nothing more than a gentle breeze. She stroked the Holy Moonlight Sword softly, lovingly, and gave him a small and wan smile to match his own unpleasant one.

"Unscathed?" Was all she said to begin with, taking a pause, before she began to laugh--well, it was more of a hearty witch's cackle after only a second or two and the crescendo of her laugh only continued to increase in pitch and intensity for a good six or seven seconds. Ophelia could not help thinking, by the time she'd finished, that it was sadly still not as good as Gerlinde's.

"Love, no. One does not come out of communion unchanged, let alone unscathed. But of all the people in the world to bear the burden, mustn't it be us? Could we ask this of anyone else? Is there any other path to understanding? I will fare better than you, but that doesn't mean well. I know you're just trying to protect me behind all of that venom, and we don't want a repeat of earlier..." Ophelia added, turning her moon-bright gaze to Farren's piercing azure eyes with a plaintive look.

"If it isn't me, it's you... and I can't ask that of you. You've paid such a toll already, and where I have a chance of learning something all you've been left with is ruin. Do you see another path? I will gladly take one if it exists, but... I don't see it."

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Ophelia

Ophelia grew increasingly unsettled by Farren's increasing paranoia and anxiety, listening to his words but struggling to hear the reason behind them and instead only seeing it as him being utterly blinded by fear.

"With respect, love, you... appear to have come across Ego unprepared. You have no talent for the Arcane, nor implements of communion to guide you, nor understanding of the nature of the forces of the Waking World and the Nightmare. You... appear to have been about as unprepared for what you took on as anyone could be. It's little wonder that it destroyed you--but I am not like you, dear. I am a true Paleblood, marked by the Dream. I wield the Holy Moonlight Sword, and bring Mother Moon's glory wherever I go. I have been studying and communing with forces beyond for most of my life... and if we let fear rule us, we are no better than cattle waiting to be led to the slaughter. I cannot let fear break me, or we have no hope at all. Besides... I won't be alone, will I?" Ophelia retorted, confident and lightly chiding. She knew that this instinct of his was a protective snarl, a warning to not tread the forsaken path, so she was not cold or distant--but she was firm in her conviction that fear could not stop her.

"If there's a sound logical reason not to, I won't--but unless you can come up with some other way we might learn what we need to know, I see few paths forward."

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Ophelia

Ophelia smiled as Gerlinde took the gem and scurried off to apply it to her weapon, like watching a child get a new toy and immediately rush off to play with it. Of course, the circumstances were quite different here, with them, but... it warmed Ophelia's heart nevertheless. She listened to the Doll's translation for the Shopkeeper, nodding along and occasionally creasing her brows or pursing her lips in thought.

"Fortunately, Gerlinde taught us a rune that can ward against such influences--things like... Ashen Blood, but I think this 'Frenzy' might be covered too..." Ophelia opined, before kneeling down to beckon the little ones and asking them about the Deep Sea rune. At this time the whispers of her sword had reverberated through her mind enough for her to understand.

"Mother Moon whispers, and it seems that it was Torquil himself that beckoned this thing here... though I suspect that is the False Paleblood. Strange things seem to happen whenever it's Farren or Torquil who enter--it seemed to mostly be relegated to changes in the weather, but... if the Old Blood is the fundamentally a source of change, as you say, this purloined power might spill over into here. I wonder if the Gods experience their own sorts of Frenzy, what the mutable power of change and their own immense wisdom might do if turned against them? I also wondered if it had something to do with the Lord of Providence, but the whispers think not. Every answer we get seems to spawn two more questions, and we have to suffer through unreliable information from sources with differing agendas to our own to even answer those questions!" Ophelia added, and something about her words and tone and stance was very tense. Though calm, this development worried her--and was starting to push her towards something she'd been hoping to avoid.

"I... think I have to commune with Ego. Embrace this gold for myself, and learn of it. The terrestrial concerns are growing but there are good people out there who can manage those. I fear it falls to us to deal with the burden of Gold, for who else is equipped? I must know what he wants--what his vision of the correct change to come out of the Old Blood is, what his idea of worthiness is. Heh, it sounds ridiculous even as I try to justify it, but I fear that without knowing who our enemy is and what they really want we will keep fumbling in the dark like blind fools. Ignorant to our own ignorance..." She mused aloud, clearly very much wrapped up in her head about trying to keep all of the new information they'd learned present and relevant. There was an edge of anxiety to her tone towards the end, though perhaps it was more akin to fevered delirium.

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Ophelia

Ophelia nodded along intently to Gerlinde's explanation while she consulted the messengers, then stood up and faced Gerlinde directly. She took a brief moment to formulate her thoughts before she spoke, idly rubbing the queer red gem in her hand before walking over to Gerlinde and offering an outstretched palm with the gem in it to her.

"The messengers said that these gemstones can be used to enhance weapons, and this one partially shifts a weapon into the Nightmare--which gives it some measure of power for your talent with the Arcane to draw out. Neither Torquil or Farren have much aptitude for the Arcane, and my blessed blade doesn't need it... Would you like to apply it to your cane, love?" Ophelia asked, smiling gently at Gerlinde. Mad as she was, she was genuinely a useful presence that Ophelia was grateful for--and she found Gerlinde much less disconcerting than most anyway. Ophelia also made another point of looking for the Shopkeeper, and would relay what happened to them when they arrived--before asking if they knew any more about what the creature was, or about Frenzy and its causes.

"These apparitions," Ophelia thought, letting the whispers build in the cistern of her mind and flow into the Holy Moonlight Sword. "what are they? How can they enter this sacred space without Paleblood? Are they... to do with Ego?"

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Ophelia

Ophelia's attention was, initially, mostly focused upon the strange creature she had effectively just slain, still looking for clues in the details of the dispersing mist even as it faded to nothingness. When the strange glass-like orb fell to the ground Ophelia went to pick it up immediately, curiously gazing upon it to determine something about it. She was going to ask the Holy Moonlight Sword before Torquil's issues began to compound, and she turned to him in a worried state not long after it began--though noticeably much slower than Farren had, preoccupied as she was.

She observed him very carefully, strafing around him to get a better look at his features, trying not to be distracted by the sound of his furious and ragged breaths increasing in intensity. She watched him with growing concern and curiosity, initially worried for his longevity, but as his skin began to writhe of its own accord as though possessed she progressed from worried to outright frightened. She truly had no idea what might happen if he were to die here, in the Dream, nor did she understand how this strange coincidence had come to be. Farren and Torquil seemed to be the only ones who caused such strange disruptions to the Dream's otherwise placid (if lightly melancholic) permanence, so she could assume it was yet another consequence of their false Paleblood--and this had her watching him like a proverbial hawk. When the worst of it happened and he exploded with viscera Ophelia was close enough and looking intently enough to be covered by a spray of blood--though she truly seemed to barely notice, peering through the mess to see the subtle signs of life upon Torquil's body. Beneath the armour seeing his chest rising and falling would be difficult, so she leaned down and hovered her hand just over his mouth and nose to make sure he was breathing (if she couldn't hear the sound) and looked down at him with a grim countenance.

"Mother Moon above, what was that? You're right, just like Pallid's bell, but... it seemed to be something the apparition did? And not something tied to its existence, because the change overtook him after it was dispersed... Hm. Perhaps the little ones will know more?" Ophelia spoke, leaning down to present the blood-red orb to them and acquire a new description that might offer some insight.

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Ophelia

Ophelia's mouth drew close into a taut grimace at Torquil's explanation and the subsequent act of intended execution the spirit performed against him. Two thoughts immediately flashed through her mind: the spirit needed to be slain and Torquil might need to be administered a blood vial depending on his healing potential. She had very little time with which to consider this, and ended up coming to the conclusion that they'd all seen how much more effective the Holy Moonlight Sword was against the apparition so it made sense for her to strike out at it first. Whip-fast she adjusted her position to give her adequate space and slashed with the edge of her blade, now less hindered by the others, in another swipe downward through the spirit--though this time she deliberately looked for this strange arcane tether between the two (assuming enough of a gap was created between them by some combination of Torquil stumbling forward and her strike driving the spirit back) and would aim to sever it with her blade if an opportunity presented itself.

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Ophelia

Her attack having been the most effective--a little tidbit she filed away for the future--caught Ophelia's attention, awkward and stilted though it was, and she examined the trail of energy more thoroughly as she felt the moment of danger and adrenaline pass. It... seemed to be something connected to Torquil, at least, though she didn't know if the apparition was borne of him or simply attached to him. It struck her that they really did not know precisely what these false Palebloods were at all, and heightened in her mind the very real possibility of it being dangerous both to them as individuals and to the greater Dream as a whole.

"Are you alright, dear?" Ophelia asked Torquil, quickly wheeling around to him to make sure that he was okay. She knew that he was--in the Dream or no, he was a hardy lad and had survived much worse than that. She also quickly scanned around for the Doll and Shopkeeper and called out to them: "Do you have any idea what that was?"

She also asked the same question to the Holy Moonlight Sword, figuring that its arcane consciousness had come into contact with the spirit--and it might offer greater insights, as it so often did.