[center][h2][b]Ophelia[/b][/h2][/center]

Ophelia had meant to only spare Torquil and Farren a cursory glance, but something about the way that Torquil looked struck her like a dagger--like a rabbit who'd just realised he'd wandered into a trap. She stopped dead in her tracks, turning her head away from Torquil because she could not bear the shame of looking at him and realising that she was the one who'd made him feel like this with her own anger and pride. She [i]was[/i] too proud to back down, she knew that, and she cradled her cheek against the Holy Moonlight Sword. While Farren spoke she let her mind and soul touch it, and she prayed in her heart of hearts to be worthy of its guidance, to let go of that beast within her and return to purity. To know that if she was tested and found wanting, she would earnestly try to be worthy of its blinding grace. There was no mote of pity in her heart for Victor, for she had truly gone out of her way to earnestly protect him as gratitude for what he'd done and what he'd given for them... but then she thought of Torquil's face, the way that his eyes flitted and his expression soured. She sighed softly and her stiffened posture relaxed into a defeated slump of her shoulders, and she knew that she couldn't leave things like this. Not only would it break her heart every time she looked at sweet, simple Torquil... she could not let him down. It made sense to her, in that moment, what Dietrich had said--his overindulgence... the way that he didn't even [i]flinch[/i] at the brand... He truly must have lived through a lot, to make it four years as a Hunter. That was no excuse for his rudeness, but her reply to that had been far ruder than he had... and he had just seen his friend dead.

She thought about how scared and angry and [i]sick[/i] she'd felt when Torquil had died and she didn't know that he was effectively immortal. How glad she'd been to find him returned hale and whole, what an incredible miracle Mother Moon had provided for them all. She would not get that if Victor died. He'd just be another corpse, another body hauled to her home on a cart that she'd prepare for burial, or for ritual, or for the dogs. She'd be no better than a beast in Torquil's eyes, and unlike almost everyone else in the entire world she was going to be with him for better or for worse. They could go their own separate ways somewhat, certainly, but they would run into one another--and if he looked at her like Victor had, like she had at him, she would not even be able to die from shame. She would have to live with that until... until she became like Moira, she supposed, freed from the Dream. Away from her Mother Moon.

She turned around, and saw Farren tossing a blood vial to Victor. She brought her hand down to her own pouch and felt it, feeling the weight of those extra vials, and she resolved to try and do the right thing.

"Victor... These blood vials are for you. I asked the Vicar to give me some blood vials, so you would have enough for the journey back. Take them, and... I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that, and... you've been very good to us." Ophelia spoke, tone remorseful and shameful, before quickstepping to catch up with him and offer him the five vials in her hand. Her eyes glistened with dew and were cast slightly downward, though she still focused on his person.