Tuujaimaa

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.

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.