Tuujaimaa

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Ophelia

Ophelia paid little attention to the initial hostility displayed towards her this time, understanding their wariness but pitying their lack of knowledge: they would be the only ones who would suffer if things came to blows. Upon noticing Victor she looked up and gave him a relieved smile, though did not call out to him--she was under the impression that his long journey back would not have increased his opinion of her any and did not want to start a confrontation when she had a very particular goal in mind. She looked back to see if Farren and the others were caught up, and whether or not Victor regarded them (she assumed they would him, minus Gerlinde).

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Ophelia

Ophelia's first sight upon arrival was indeed the lantern--or the featureless golden head taking its place, more accurately--and the suddenness of it gave her a sudden moment of visible shock that immediately lulled her out of that strange almost-sleep state one feel into when entering or exiting the Dream. She blinked quickly and, resisting the urge to look upon the eyes emerging from the strange not-lantern with considerable willpower, immediately began to strut off towards the entrance like she had on the previous occasion that she'd entered from here. It had very quickly occurred to her that now all of them were seeing through the illusions of the world that Torquil was demonstrably awful at hiding anything that he observed or felt from showing on his face. This meant that whatever was observing them would notice Torquil noticing it, and perhaps the same for the others (or indeed her, if it was perceptive) so it wasn't like they could bluff that they hadn't. The only play for Ophelia to make would be to play it off like she was prideful enough in her own abilities with the arcane (as she genuinely had earlier) that if she was immediately purposeful and not inquisitive it might simply underestimate her. She supposed that wasn't an unreasonable expectation of a being whose name was Ego.

With that in her mind, she was dead-set on heading directly into the Workshop and towards Dietrich--in her mind's eye she was still torn and fried and scorched from the battle with the Darkbeast, but thanks to the Dream her appearance had been meticulously restored. Upon entering she'd immediately scan the room to see if Dietrich was visible there, and if not she'd head up towards his office where he'd taken her previously. She remembered well the announcement that her and her companions were free to flit about the place, so she would wait for the others to catch up before leaving them behind at any point.

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Ophelia

Ophelia read the rapid response eagerly, the first one eliciting a coy smirk from her and the second a thoughtful nod. She looked up at the Lightbeast in the middle of its newfound freedom and smiled brightly, moving to position herself so she was in front of them and could speak with them more directly.

"There are so few places that can offer sanctuary now, love, as it's a Night of the Hunt. Old Yharnam... I used to visit a church there, when I was a little girl--the Church of the Good Chalice. If it's intact and uninhabited, it might offer some peace... and Old Yharnam is rarely visited besides. Thank you, and I'm so very glad that we could free you from this awful place. We'll be heading to Old Yharnam at some point, so... if we see you there, I'll come and visit. Perhaps I can tell you the stories of what we've been up to?" Ophelia spoke, her beaming smile somewhat taking on a tinge of melancholy as she recalled that few places would really be anything approaching safe.

While she was speaking she felt the whispers begin to trickle into her mind, too, and she was (as always) elated to receive the Holy Mooonlight Sword's guidance. She nodded along to it solemnly and replied in her mind: Always, my guiding moonlight. We are of one will. Whisper to me where to go, and what I need to know, and we shall carve a trail of glory across this city.

"Right, my dears, I think it's time we found a lantern in Yahar'gul proper, no? Once we have a foothold here, Naira will have little choice but to negotiate with us--if slaying that abhorrent monstrosity wasn't enough, picking off her Followers until naught remains should serve as a pacifying fact of her new reality. Ah, but how foolish of me, Farren is right, I have insights to share! Come, come, let us all partake of this bounty. Would... either of you like me to apply it now? Farren... I understand, and it isn't like we can't just apply it whenever we might need. I think it might be a good idea to apply it to you, Torquil?"

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Ophelia

Ophelia accepted the touch of the Lightbeast gratefully, having witnessed the growing power accumulating around them as they'd begun to pray--which, to her mind, was a still unmistakeably human sentiment and not something one without higher thought would be capable of. She felt the unfamiliar rush of knowledge and concepts that she could see the shape of but not determine the more specific qualities about, she tried vainly to understand the torrent of overwhelming information, and eventually came to a point of crystallised understanding as a Caryll Rune made itself known in her mind.

"Oh, love, bless you--this is... this is exactly what we needed. Come, let's get the rest of this off of you." Ophelia almost-whispered, deeply moved by the outreach of this poor, tortured creature they'd been fortunate enough to come across and be able to help. She moved with redoubled effort, now actively joining in on the effort to remove the mess of chains and impaling stakes that kept the Lightbeast pinned. She briefly wished that the Dream could offer the poor creature sanctuary, that Mother Moon's light would reveal to them a path forward and hide the darkest corners of their torment away in silvery shadow--but she thought such a thing impossible.

She took a quick second to lean down and beckon forth the messengers, quickly scribing a message to the Shopkeeper:

"Darkbeast slain. Lightbeast freed. If we cannot offer the Dream as sanctuary, might you know somewhere the Lightbeast can live in peace?"

Immediately thereafter, she called out to the others.

"They taught me a rune, dears, and not just any rune--one capable of seeing through arcane illusions... and more than that, capable of resisting eldritch influences. No more 'nice old man'. I... I have to get back to the White Workshop--Dietrich needs to be branded with the rune and freed from the influences that befuddle him. Not immediately, but... it is next on my list of things to do. I'm certain I can get some more blood vials for us, too."

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Ophelia

Ophelia sighed ruefully at the Lightbeast's response and nodded, turning her head over her shoulder to get Farren's attention behind her.

"Do you think we can remove these stakes? I know it might take a little while, but... it'll get rid of the illusion, and the... fog? This poor thing deserves to be far away from Yahar'gul, and it'll achieve our goals too. I'll do my best to help, love, I promise." Ophelia called out, addressing the Lightbeast directly with her last statement and giving it another grateful rub in response to the warm tingle of regeneration energy.

"There'll be echoes aplenty further in Yahar'gul, Gerlinde. I'll also remind you that, on top of it being awful, the Lightbeast's regenerative power was such that we couldn't even scratch the Darkbeast. It's surviving this torture, even now. When they had you in your room in Byrgenwerth, did you ever pray for a saviour? For someone to take you away from the awful people who hurt you? There wasn't anybody to save you then, but there is someone who we could save now." Ophelia added to Gerlinde, though her tone never took on a chiding or authoritative tone--just a deep and profound empathy for both this creature and for what Gerlinde had gone through. The very air here was tainted with agony, and Gerlinde was quite mad, so if she would receive it that way was another matter entirely--but Ophelia seemed to have found a certain firmness in her conviction, at least, and she began to assess how they might best remove the various bits of masonry by looking over the Lightbeast's situation more thoroughly.

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Ophelia

Ophelia turned her attention to the matter of the Lightbeast a ssoon as it was raised, stepping away from the corpse of the Darkbeast and its head--beginning to quietly seethe to herself that it had no eyes for her to take--and over towards it and Gerlinde. She looked at the Lightbeast with an expression that shifted from sated and proud to deeply melancholy, and she walked up to the creature with a determined but subdued gait.

"This... this was a person once, I think." Ophelia began, and as she stood directly in front of the creature she brought her right hand up to gently place it upon the side of their snout. "Just like the Hunters who didn't make it through the experiment... I... I don't know if I can. I think what makes a beast is... in nature, not in form. Who knows if this one has given in to base desire and instinct? If they haven't, I can't kill them... not while some of them remains. Do you understand us, love? I see you moving your head to whichever of us speaks..." Ophelia began, addressing the Lightbeast directly. She thought of the languid sigh that it'd emitted before, and figured that speech was perhaps beyond it--but perhaps it might nod or... do something? Her heart swelled with pity, thinking how the poor creature had been subjected to the awful voltaic power of that Darkbeast that she'd suffered only once and knew that if she never experienced it again it would be too soon. The matter was something that sparked a deep conflict that had been burning within her for the past few hours, as she'd begun to evaluate where her hatred of beasts came from--and the way it rattled her was, sadly, plain upon her face.

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Ophelia

Ophelia basked in the glory of killing this creature that had tormented them so, had abused the chained lightbeast, had rendered even the Shopkeeper to dust and transmuted the dirt and sand to glass. It was a magnificent feeling, to emerge victorious, but there was none of that crude and vile furnace heat like when she'd awakened from the clinic mere hours ago--this was only gently warm, and trickled through her like a babbling brook more than a sweeping inferno. She was deeply proud of them--well, less so Gerlinde whose strategy of 'simply do not stop attacking' which, while effective, would not have been able to prevail on its own. Everyone had seen the openings and opportunities left by each other, taken the initiative when they had to, and done the very best they could when thrust into this strange world. It did not escape her notice that merely yesterday this sort of creature would be, very literally, the stuff of Nightmare--so utterly and unfathomably terrifying that Ophelia would not have even thought to have attempted to fight it. Now they stood victorious over its severed head, and she turned to Torquil and gave him an earnestly wide and bright smile.

"Oh, here, love..." She began, quickly moving over to him and carefully removing the empty vial sticking out of his visor. "You did very well, Torquil--you acted when you needed to, and I'm very proud. I'm glad I had you by my side. The feeling of getting these blood echoes is... well, it's something, isn't it?" she commented, half wanting to reach out and clasp him into a hug but deciding that it wasn't the place.

"Similarly effusive praise to the two of you, as well! Especially good work finishing off that chain, Farren--my, you definitely look the part of the Hunter proper now don't you? Shall we find a lantern and spend these echoes before more terrible things appear to try and kill us? Perhaps if we cut the chain leading up to the top of the gate there..." Ophelia called out, heading up towards Farren and Gerlinde and pointing out the relevant chain with the Holy Moonlight Sword.

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Ophelia

For the most part Ophelia simply stood awestruck watching the events of the titanic clash, breathing calmly and trying to get into position for whatever happened next. She'd noticed that Farren had managed to pry the chain apart, and the flow of bountiful moon motes was simply flowing out of the chain and into the environment near them--which meant the darkbeast was cut off from the lightbeast's healing capabilities... and with how much effort it was pouring into its attack, it'd clearly soon be exhausted as well. Ophelia was about to muse on how that would give the Shopkeeper an abundance of time to absolutely obliterate the beast, but as the crescendo of the darkbeast's gathering power reached the apex of its fulgurous fury she suddenly had doubts that anything at all--even the Shopkeeper--could survive it.

When the blast hit all of her senses registered it, the sheer volume of energy reverberating through the already-charged air flowing over her instantaneously. She could taste blood, smell the charge in the air, feel the goosebumps on her body write with energy. The keening pitch of its unleashed potential was at no frequency someone should be able to hear, but she could swear she heard a sound that was so pure an expression of malice that it made her shudder. Mother Moon above... she thought to herself, balking somewhat in the blinding wave of light, before finally the second passed and all was clear again. The Shopkeeper did not remain, and beneath the ground where they stood was glass, sparkling softly in the pale moonlight. This, then, was it.

"Now or never! To the death!" Ophelia screamed as she began to run forward towards the beast at her very fullest speed, quickstepping into motion and then heading directly towards the darkbeast's head begin to deliver a flurry of swift and light swipes--with how easily the Holy Moonlight Sword had cut the darkbeast before she hoped she could get away with not pouring that much energy into the swings. She'd need at least some of her still barely recovered stamina to either perform a finishing attack or get away from something imminent if it came to that... But she thought about what had been said before, that the Shopkeeper being summoned meant they'd receive no Blood Echoes, and she summoned what resolve she could. If that was the case, well, it didn't matter if she died. Not really. She would evaluate the situation as it unfolded, but with a clear second wind of passion and unleashing of retributive malice that anyone observing her would see plainly that she was determined to see this through.

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Ophelia

Ophelia observed the growing spectacle with keen interest, having noticed by now also that Farren had managed to actually disconnect the chain. She felt better knowing that they had, at the very least, completed that part of the fight on their own. She continued to retreat to a safe distance before looking over at the clash and trying to discern who it seemed had the upper hand at that moment in time--but given that all she could really see from the beast was its wreath of crimson lightning and that its claw had just raked across the Shopkeeper's chest to reveal pearlescent blood... Well, she didn't feel like it was necessarily going in their favour. Still--the Shopkeeper was positively full of tricks, and Ophelia was quite content to watch (much in the same vein as Gerlinde) while she continued to regain her frightfully small reserves of stamina. She suddenly had a much greater interest in using the Heir rune to gather blood echoes, and felt like she'd need to hunt something more suited to their power level and truly dominate it.

She also spared a thought for Torquil, and shot him a grateful look--not that he'd see it, no doubt. He had made the choice to act, and she would always have preferred him act rather than dally and dither and end up not doing anything at all. It was nice to see him take some initiative.

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Ophelia

Ophelia's spirit had not yet flagged as she began stalking across the battlefield, and for the most part she was simply planning to get her breath back and begin the assault anew when she had more in her. She was calm and focused, the dull aches and throbs and searing hot agony of before now only a distant memory and her eyes firmly locked on that of the thing she was hunting--she observed where the energy seemed to begin as it gathered it, if such a place existed. She observed how long it took to recharge, to gather its wits, and tried to imagine how it was choosing what to target (though she came up rather short on that front). When the telltale notes of the Moonborn Bell rang out Ophelia's ears reacted immediately and her eyes very shortly thereafter, glancing over towards the sound to see Torquil, the bell still held in his hand.

She thought for a brief moment that that seemed unnecessary--that though they were on the back foot they were about to start being able to make real progress. It seemed that being close to the Lightbeast as the Darkbeast and Gerlinde were conferred healing to them too... They could probably all use that to their advantage--force the Darkbeast away somehow, or... Something. She still felt very much in control of the situation... until she saw the Moonborn Hunter get noticed by the Darkbeast, and a charge of energy greater than anything they'd yet seen accumulate within the horrid creature so intense it glowed with what Ophelia only imagined the Blood Moon must've looked like. Then it moved--no, it quickstepped, or something very close to it--and Ophelia dashed back instinctively in response, moving five meters directly backward towards the illusory wall to give her space from whatever was about to happen.

She readied the Holy Moonlight Sword, though she knew there was little point in her joining in the fight now... unless it seemed that even the Moonborn Hunter might need aid. But should that come to pass, she'd need her stamina back, and it seemed every time she just about was beginning to recover some monstrous event interrupted her. She was suddenly very glad indeed that they were immortal, and how insidious a killer overconfidence was.