Tuujaimaa

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Ophelia

Ophelia sighed in relief at Dietrich's explanation of the Vilebloods--though something about the name Cainhurst struck a chord of familiarity with her--and let some of the tension that she'd been holding in her shoulders and back release. She noticed the glint of enthusiasm in Dietrich's eyes, almost mischievous and entirely curious, and she was amazed that it was only the second most beautiful thing she'd seen today. The Holy Moonlight Sword, of course, took the spot of first place--and Ophelia stroked it ever so tenderly with her now-free hand after stashing her received items away.

"Oh, yes, you are well-versed indeed, love. Though... it is Ludwig's no longer, for he is gone. It sang to me when I first saw it, in the Dream, and as soon as I picked it up... it chose me. A gift from Mother Moon, I am certain. It whispers guidance to me--even about you, dear. I... I would not normally share its whispers with anyone, but... I will tell you what it said about you, if you like?" Ophelia whispered in return, leaning in herself such that they were but a head apart. Something about the quality of her whispered voice was almost oceanic, like waves lapping against an unseen shore, and something else about it was laced with silver--bright and gleaming.

Her eyes seemed almost to reflect the vivid flecks and speckles of glistening light within the Holy Moonlight Sword, and this close to one another Dietrich would undoubtedly be able to tell that her eyes were precisely the same colour as the blade. It was the only thing she looked at with more joy and excitement than he himself.

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Ophelia

Ophelia waited patiently while Dietrich vanished into the supply room, idly observing the goings-on of the workshop while she waited. She was quite deeply unused to being watched and observed--she'd always faded into the background once she moved back into Yharnam, bound to a wheelchair (more for exhaustion than lack of mobility), and there were plenty of people like that in Yharnam. Few were perceptive or keen enough, and she never made herself seem important enough, for her to ever be in the proverbial spotlight. Now, though... she could feel the hot, keen gazes of many of the civilians in here--and though it lacked the coldness and vastness of the feeling she and Dietrich had shared earlier, that experience had left her shaken enough that she found herself self-conscious. She looked down at her skirt and wondered--that was what people seemed to be looking at when they gazed at her critically or venomously. She couldn't even say why she'd picked it up from the chest of clothes they'd found in the Hunter's Dream--it just seemed... vaguely familiar to her, somehow. Comfortable and comforting. She felt a vague sense of attachment and warmth to it, and could very vaguely recall glimpses of similar outfits from her childhood.

Perhaps it was that that had caused her to be labelled a "Vileblood" by those Hunters earlier? She still didn't really understand what it meant, truth be told--they'd been so isolated from such things in Hemwick, and especially in the company of the Witches. They had few visitors without purpose--most simply came to deliver corpses, or take them away, or to avail themselves of the various services that the Witches provided. None of that particularly involved Ophelia, feeble as she was then--she was left to more delicate work that she could still perform, and to study of the arcane. Parts of her time with the Witches seemed to slip through her fingers like sand--like a bank of fog had settled over what were once crystal clear memories. She wondered if she'd get them back with time, or if they were simply lost--but before she could muse further, enough time had passed that Dietrich had returned.

Ophelia's expression immediately brightened upon seeing him--as his did her--and she gratefully accepted the items he'd returned with while nodding along to his instructions. As she took the lantern she smiled brightly, immediately recognising the value of such a thing, and hastily clipped it to her belt. She attempted to beckon the Messengers to take some of the items on her behalf out of habit before remembering that they were unable to appear here for some reason, and offered Dietrich a sheepish grin as she explained.

"Ah, normally the little ones--helpful creatures tied to the realms of Nightmare--can hold items for us. Terribly convenient; though they don't appear here for some reason, like earlier in your office... Ah, well. Thank you, love. I'll leave the guns here for your Hunters--it seems the Dream is quite capable of arming us and I can pick up a weapon there," she began, nodding her head at the Holy Moonlight Sword cradled against her chest, "and I wouldn't want to deprive someone here who might need one. Not that that seems likely, given how many there are... but then again, there are also a lot of Hunters now, aren't there? Moira... I suppose I really need to go and speak with her, at some point. Tales of her prowess are common--not as common as tales of yours, of course, but enough that I've heard quite a bit about her. Some of it might even be true!" Ophelia spoke, chortling at the end as she spoke of Moira.

"I'll get a copy of this map back to you marked with the lanterns, too, dear. Knowing where we can easily reach will help you plan out how best to utilise us, hmm? It may take me some time, though, if I have to update the map... When I return with the others, I'll at least give you a couple of locations around Yharnam. I... I really would like to stay more in your company, but I fear I should get back to the others before they make too much headway without me and step into something grizzly... Actually, one last thing, the Hunters that greeted me at the entrance called me a 'Vileblood'--and it was enough to prompt them to almost attack me, as you so gallantly saved them from! What... what does it actually mean? I can't say I'm really familiar with the term--and I noticed they were looking at my skirt? There was a chest of clothes in the Hunter's Dream, I just picked some out that seemed comfortable... I hope I haven't committed some terrible faux pas."

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Ophelia

Ophelia took the proffered bag back, smiling widely upon first feeling its renewed heft in her hands. She moved to return it to whence she'd gotten it from, and with that done she tilted her head to the side for a half-second before speaking.

"Thank you, dear--though... I must admit, I was only really thinking of my social obligations when I mentioned the blood vials. It occurs to me that... I don't really know very much about being a Hunter. Is there anything else that you think we should have, as a group? I... I don't wish for us to be caught unawares on a night of the hunt. Ah--and might you have a map of Yharnam that I could use? In the Hunter's Dream, you see, there are a number of locations that we can travel to--that's how I was able to make it here to the workshop so quickly. I've lived in Yharnam all my life, but... mostly Hemwick, so there are plenty of places that I find myself completely unaware of. Having a map to draw out where precisely we can go... that sounds very useful indeed; I'd be happy to provide you with a copy too, my dear. I'd be delighted to offer you my assistance, and knowing the breadth of our ability to travel would be helpful in making sure we can go where we are most needed, mm?" Ophelia asked, the worry persistently still upon her features joined by the faintest of reddish tinges in her cheeks as she remembered that she had obligations beyond just politeness.

"Truth be told, love... I'd briefly forgotten that I'm a Hunter now. Some direction from the First Hunter is, I hope, not too much to ask." she added hastily, looking into Dietrich's eyes as she spoke. There was no doubt in her mind, given the perceptiveness and shrewdness he'd displayed already, that it was quite obvious she found herself rather enamoured with him. The ministration and her newly acquired vigour conspired together to awaken things in her that the Paleblood had simply never permitted her to feel before--and she felt an odd moment of kinship suddenly with those Hunters who'd sheepishly fled from Dietrich and her earlier. She realised at that moment that she very much did not like being here, at the White Church's workshop... something about this entire place was frightfully queer, and not in the usual ways that were familiar to her. She was not used to not knowing, and she was beginning to realise just how vast the depths of her dislike for that state of being were.

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Ophelia

Ophelia confirmed Dietrich's suspicions with a gentle nod--and though her mind was immediately drawn back to the idea that there were perhaps malicious agents of other factions embedded within the church she did not mention it again. She gave Harold a warm smile and a curtsey as a goodbye, alongside a profuse offering of thanks, and turned around as if to go the way they came, though she turned her head towards Dietrich again and awaited his customary offering of his arm. She waited until they were comfortably out of sight and earshot before she spoke what was on her mind to the First Hunter.

"I sense there are things I don't know about Victor, dear? I would like to hear your concerns, if you have them--I know that overindulgence is another base desire it is very hard for we Hunters to suppress..." Ophelia asked, her face creasing a little in concern. "I don't mean to instigate any conflict or tension between you and vicar Harold--and if my ignorance has touched a nerve, I hope you'll let me correct it."

"Not at all." Dietrich hesitated, biting his lip, before saying: "As you say, Victor has a tendency of overindulgence. As far as I understand he had something of a habit with spirits before coming to Yharnam, and after he became a Hunter he has taken a similar liking to blood. That is no surprise, of course; consuming blood is rather euphoric to even the most virtuous Hunter, but Victor has shown a lack of restraint. That is why I sent him out so early, before we started bringing out supplies for the Night of the Hunt, and with Stefan, who is a disciplined and dependable man. That is all."

"Ah, I see--I'm grateful for your telling me, love. Well... I think it sounds wise for me to only give him the one and replenish it only when necessary, if he is in mortal danger. I'm glad you have such concern for the Hunters who serve under you--he should be very grateful to have someone as honourable and thoughtful as you to look out for his best interests." Ophelia replied, her inflection gentle and warm. She squeezed Dietrich's arm with her hand lightly and turned her head to smile at him for just a moment before returning to facing forwards.

Dietrich laughed heartily. "Oh please, mercy! You'll inflate my ego even more than it already is! But truly, what is the purpose of the First Hunter if not to look after his Hunters?"

For some reason, Ophelia would abruptly feel as though someone was watching her very intently, though looking around she would find no one paying her any special attention. The feeling lasted for just several seconds, then dissipated as spontaneously as it had begun.

Ophelia shuddered at the feeling, and whispered "Mother Moon above..." to herself. She looked very quickly for an obvious source of eyes but found herself unable to find one, and her lips settled into a thin line. She was entirely unsure of what that had been, and she could see none of the guidance sprites that would indicate something touched by the realms of Nightmare.

"How uncomfortable... do you ever feel like you're being watched here, Dietrich? I just had the most uncanny sense of it..." Ophelia asked, her expression suddenly quite worried. She nervously chewed at her lip for a second before rapidly shaking her head and exhaling through her nose sharply.

Dietrich's eyes widened. "You, too? I felt it just now as well, but I don't think I've experienced something quite like that before. Quite unpleasant."

Ophelia's expression of worry only intensified. "That means it wasn't just nothing... Do be careful, dear. I was raised to always trust my intuition with these things; it's never failed me yet."

She continued to look around nervously for a second, and cradled her head against the tip of the Holy Moonlight Sword next to her. Am I safe here? Is there something here even your glorious light cannot reveal? she thought to herself, letting her mind wander somewhat as Dietrich led them both back towards the entrance of the workshop. She would stay with him for the entire duration of their journey--a mental map of what the interior of the workshop looked like could not possibly be a bad thing to have.

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Ophelia

Ophelia's face fell for a moment at Harold's incredulous confusion, and she opened her mouth to begin speaking to try and understand what had happened but was beaten to it by Dietrich, who offered an explanation that reconciled events into a more understandable flow. She let out a similar laugh to Harold's not long after he did, and then turned to Dietrich and offered him a grateful smile and a curtsey.

"Ah, thank you, dear--I'm afraid I haven't been the clearest. It's been..." Ophelia began, letting out a shuddering breath, "... a very challenging hour. Yes, darling Dietrich is quite right." A sheepish but mirthful laugh left her as a look of relief came over her face, and she turned back to Harold. She smiled warmly at his mention that she'd done well, and she raised her left eyebrow slightly as he offered to avail her of supplies. The tiniest flash of defensiveness came over her as he gestured at the Holy Moonlight Sword, though it was dismissed immediately and replaced with gratitude at the offer of assistance.

"Something so important simply couldn't wait, as time is of the essence. Night will soon be upon us, after all... Though... that does make me wonder: did you not have someone stationed there to be with us when we were to awaken? We didn't see any representatives of the church there--other than Victor, of course, but he came after. As for supplies... Victor is running low on blood vials, and I would like to replenish his stock--he'll need it for the journey back, and I would feel dreadful if I left him without after he was so instrumental in turning the tide of the fight. If you could provide them I'd be ever so grateful. You know, I was almost planning to return to them without having spoken to you! Oh, I'm so glad that I did--you're such a nice old man, and you've been so generous with your time and knowledge. If we can spare the time later, I'd simply love to discuss the lumenflowers with you."

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Ophelia

Ophelia, as before, continued to file away the little things that she noticed about the vicar--his eyes told her stories about what he recognised, as did his posture and his expression. The feeling of unease that she'd started experiencing on the walk over with Dietrich had only grown in the intervening time, and the tightening of an unseen knot in her stomach warned her to be very careful indeed about what she said. It was very important indeed that she arouse no suspicion--for the cost of giving information away to the vicar was very low indeed, and the reward for leaving without tipping her hand was great. She'd already told Dietrich all of the relevant details anyway, so they'd get back to Harold either way--letting it come from her lips willingly would likely mean something.

"Thankfully, none were killed by the beasts--a Hunter by the name of Victor showed up, as I told Dietrich, and helped us fight off those who assaulted us. That said... they asked us to help move the bodies so they could abduct them. They seemed to have no interest in killing the sleeping ones, just in taking them... and there was a strange, Pallid man who said something about a "Soulkeeper" wanting them. We killed him and his pet beastman, of course... but it was like they knew what to expect there. I... I'm sorry to say it, Vicar Harold, but I can't help but wonder if there isn't someone in your church whose loyalties do not lie with you. It could be a coincidence, of course... but what are the chances of that?" Ophelia replied, pointing to various other eyes in her little jar when she spoke about people they'd slaughtered.

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Ophelia

"Oh, dearest, it isn't just you--they really do understand you. I can see it: the touch of the Nightmare is strong upon them. I'm so very glad they have such a nice old man to look after them. I could while away many hours discussing their beauty with you... but I'm afraid we do not currently have that sort of time. When Mother Moon looks down upon them, though... I will most certainly find a way to join you then, no matter what it takes." She began, letting her gaze sweep over the gardens as a wide and almost dopey grin settled across her face.

"Indeed so, there were others--though according to Dietrich here, I cannot really be counted in the same way that they can. I alone was the bearer of true Paleblood. There are a few, but the rest... I do not think any of them will awaken. Look here..." Ophelia began, reaching over to grab the glass jar of eyes that she had on her person. She held it up to the incandescent light of the Lumenflowers, certain their eyes would want to look at it too, and motioned with her head towards the frayed, scourge-ridden eyes of the failed Paleblood Hunter, with just a hint of the black ichor clinging to them.

"The scourge seems to have taken some of them before they ever had a chance, maybe four or five, and the rest remain sleeping but... I don't understand how that could be the case?" Ophelia began, her brows furrowing and eyes narrowing in confusion. She shifted the Holy Moonlight Greatsword uncomfortably about her person, causing her braid to glitter and glimmer in the last dregs of sunlight as the dying light hit it. "I won't claim to know what goes into making a Hunter, but... surely it can't be something that would turn them into beasts, of all things?"

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Ophelia

Ophelia caught the strange turn of phrase having been repeated by Dietrich--that the Vicar was a nice old man--in exactly the same way, almost down to the very same tone and intonation. It immediately struck her as peculiar, almost... forced, but also very clearly not--Dietrich's affection seemed entirely legitimate and genuine, and she did trust him... But she could not quite cross the bridge into automatically extending that trust to the Vicar, given the peculiarity of the golden lantern and its haunting plinth. She eagerly took his offered arm and walked with him, a little disappointed that they did not pass by the Hunters who'd accosted her earlier to rub it into their belligerent faces again. She made sure to observe the goings-on of the workshop, filing away little nuggets of information about the state of the White Church's supplies and the amount of people working there, in between coy glances at Dietrich. She could not help but feel a little trill of affection blossoming within her, quite amazed that the stories about him were not only true but that the truth very much exceeded them... at least in respect to his gallantry and easy personability... and his physical appearance, too.

It had been such a long time since Ophelia had felt anything remotely carnal in nature--the Paleblood had robbed her of all of that in her teens, just as she'd been growing into it. Following the disappearance of her parents and her being taken in by the Witches, there had simply never been the time nor the inclination--and her body had constantly betrayed her, so she had instead broadened the horizons of her mind. Since the ministration, and the Doll's channelling of blood echoes, she finally had begun to feel like her body was not just a prison for her mind but an integral and real part of her--and part of that was an awakening of desires that had slumbered so deeply within her that she'd forgotten they even existed. By the time she returned from her brief reverie of musing they'd just passed by the two Hunters getting dressed, and Dietrich had made his comment.

"Ahh, the depths of carnal pleasures are too vast to be ignored, hmm? I suppose it is no wonder, for nothing creates bonds like the thrill of danger. I imagine many of them look upon you with such lusts, no? You're so gallant and strong, so full of the vim and vigour of life... I think it would be very easy indeed to fall for you." Ophelia replied to his comment, a soft and musical titter following as she looked him up and down while commenting upon his appearance.

"Your eyes... Oh, they are among the most enchanting I've ever seen. I think I could gaze into them for hours..." she added, almost an afterthought, like thinking aloud.

Dietrich smiled at her, unperturbed by her words and charming as ever. "I would a fool to deny that I am quite blessed indeed, Miss Ophelia. But I must remind myself that the gods gave me these gifts for a greater purpose, lest I risk losing myself in arrogance and narcissism. As the First Hunter, I must be above such things, a symbol of aspiration. Still..." He paused, and his smile somehow managed to get even more charming. "We are allowed to dream."

"That we are, Dietrich, that we are... I slumbered for so long with the Paleblood, dreaming of things that might have been. Take it from me, dear, that dreams sometimes do come true. In realms beyond... we are beyond the laws and strictures that bind."

Ophelia continued to walk with him, though something in her demeanour changed subtly as she suddenly realised that they were heading out towards the entrance again. Her jaw tensed a little and she took a sharp intake of breath through her nose before exhaling just as quickly, though the cadence of her breathing returned to normal immediately thereafter, and she looked over to Dietrich as they were passing the golden plinth and its lantern.

"... can you see that, over there, the golden lantern and plinth?" Ophelia asked suddenly, nodding in the direction of the eerie gold.

"What gold?"

Ophelia blinked once, and then again. "I had expected you not to see the lanterns--they only seem to appear to those of us tied to the Dream, but... It's right there, all of it. A staggering--awesome, even--amount of gold in the form of a plinth beneath the lantern... Maybe a meter high, adorned with eyes, and naked figures striding into the ocean. You... you really can't see it?"

Dietrich stared at her blankly. "No?"

"... Something is very wrong here, Dietrich. One such as you should see... something, have any kind of intuition or sense. I hope that the Vicar can explain it, or... at least make me feel a little less like I'm going mad." Ophelia replied with a nervous chuckle at the end, though it was clear that she looked very deeply unsettled.

Dietrich shrugged. "I'm sorry?"

"Forgive a newly blooded Hunter her rambling... I've seen much in the past hour, and perhaps I'm just a little overwhelmed. Mother Moon above..." she sighed, her voice shakier than it had been mere seconds ago. She shook her head and gave Dietrich a soft smile before turning ahead to continue on towards their destination.

Ophelia audibly gasped when she saw the lumenflowers, instantly and immediately struck by not only their profound beauty, but the tremendous amount of guidance sprites dancing around them.

"Oh, how beautiful... look at how they sparkle, like they each have a beam of Moonlight at their core..." she mused, and as they got closer to them she realised just how much the buds looked like eyes, of all things--and all of them looked like they were looking at her. Most would find the sensation alarming, she thought, but she drew a tremendous amount of comfort from it--as though her Mother Moon was gazing down upon her, communing with her, whispering on rays of light that she was seen and enveloped and embraced. She looked towards the Holy Moonlight Greatsword and placed the gentlest of kisses upon its gleaming form in rapturous appreciation.

When she finally caught sight of the Vicar, she found herself suddenly on guard--the peculiarity of Dietrich's speech earlier came once again to the forefront of her mind, and she found herself filled with both curiosity and wariness... but he was such a nice old man. She blinked to herself, very keenly aware that that thought was most definitively not hers--but amidst her skeptical consideration of it, she found that it had crashed against the ocean of her mind like a rogue wave. She felt the pull of the Holy Moonlight Sword again, as strongly as she had earlier when it had calmed her in the Hunter's Dream, but even its glorious refulgence could not prevent the thought from settling deep into the recesses of her skull. She felt her skepticism melting away into a gentle admiration, and her heart fluttering with affection, and she knew that it was all right. He was just a nice old man, that's what it was.

"Oh, Harold, I'm surprised you know my name! How awfully nice; it's such a pleasure to meet you too, my dear." She replied warmly, taking his hand with her now-free hand after Dietrich's prostration and curtseying regally. She found herself oddly concerned despite the ripples of warmth suffusing themselves throughout her body, though it was at Dietrich's sudden display of submission and nothing to do with Vicar Harold. How could she think ill of such a nice old man?

"Dietrich said that you would want to speak with me before I left, and... well, who could refuse Dietrich of the Shining Wing? I'm so glad that I came--these flowers are almost as beautiful as you are gracious." She replied, smiling warmly at the Vicar.

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Ophelia

Ophelia beamed at Dietrich's laughter, though her expression darkened slightly and her eyes narrowed just a hair at the hint of bitterness she detected. It could be many things, and Dietrich was a man she had just met--she made no judgements, simply filed it away in her hoard of information to be considered and perused like a precious jewel later on in the context of a collection. She adjusted the brim of her hat with her free hand, tilting it slightly back, and then fidgeted with her long and ornate braid as she spoke:

"Ahh, it most certainly would be improper to leave Victor to travel back here alone, no? He is running perilously low on blood vials, he said, and we can guarantee his safety in a way that no other Hunters can. He was a great help to us during our conflict with the pallid one and his filthy beastman; I most certainly owe him the courtesy of escorting him back. I think I would like to meet with the Vicar now, though, if you'll escort me? I would certainly find it impolite if a visitor with tidings such as mine visited my abode and spoke only to my second-in-command!"

Ophelia then squinted a little, tilting her head slightly to the right, before making a little tsk as she pondered something. She tried to call for the Messengers again, wondering if they would show up here inside the Workshop. If they did, she would ask Dietrich if she could scribe a letter quickly using the materials strewn about--and if not, she would extend her free arm out for Dietrich to take and lead her to the Vicar.

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Ophelia

Ophelia took stock of the little twitch in Dietrich's mouth when she mentioned Gerlinde, very curious that it carried that same vague whiff of dignified disdain as when she'd mentioned "Soulkeeper" earlier. She added that little tidbit to her hoard of knowledge eagerly, though there was no outward reflection of that (or very little; Dietrich seemed perceptive enough to perhaps understand).

She reacted with unabated shock when he revealed what Paleblood really was, and a sudden look of rapturous epiphany came over her face. So that was what it was; she'd simply known it as a wasting sickness, with very little indication of the true nature of what ran through her veins... but it all made sense. The dreams, her uncanny insights, how she'd taken to the Witches' tutelage so immediately and adeptly. Another mystery crossed off of her list, though it made her wonder how she had never found the answer before.

"Ah, so that's what it is... That... answers a lot of questions I've had over the years. Thank you, Dietrich. The Vicar... would you like us to go and speak with him now? I admit, I feel a little uneasy at the prospect of leaving my companions to tread the breadth of our city on foot on a night like this. I would glean what answers I can, answer what questions of yours I can, and return to them as quickly as possible. I will return, of course, but... later. If it pleases you, I could simply refrain from meeting the vicar until we are all assembled; given that the others are the result of his experiments and I am not, I don't know whether it would be improper." Ophelia replied, giving him a grateful curtsey as she first began to speak.