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

Ophelia listened to the back and forth and was suddenly overcome by an epiphany of her own as she considered all of the perspectives at play: it was truly only the luck of Byrgenwerth not being aware of her Paleblood or otherwise dissuaded by some hazy remnant of a distant past that it had been Gerlinde and not her. It could've been her, and Farren wouldn't have batted an eyelid then like he hadn't for her--or if he had, he'd given her over to the scholars there anyway. Condemned her, indirectly, to this madness... and thus equally willing to have done it to her. It almost scared her, though she wasn't scared of him--at least, not who he'd appeared to have become after his transformation. Gerlinde was truly and utterly mad, and Ophelia had begun to doubt whether she might have their best interests at heart. Well, that wasn't true, Ophelia could tell that Gerlinde was at least somewhat in it for herself and her novelty... but she wondered what their price was in Gerlinde's mind, and how readily she might offer them up as sacrifice if the opportunity arose.

It was an awful mess. The only one who seemed not to have a terribly complex past was Torquil, and even that was an assumption on their end. His silence left them to fill in their own blanks about who he was, and he seemed to be just as content to leave that portion of himself undelved as he was to follow along and do what everyone else was doing. Fellowship seemed a rather dark and distant prospect with their bonds apparently fraying at the edges, and Ophelia felt a sickening disinclination to do anything to stop it in that moment. She tried to look for the good, but... it had mostly been a mad scramble. Ophelia supposed that things were worth clinging on to in the long run - they would never be far from one another while linked to the Dream and contactable by the little ones, always a scrawled word and a nap away. But not now. For now, she stewed in her thoughts and nursed her fragile psyche as she jogged lightly--this was the first chance she'd ever gotten to try vigorous exercise for picking at the weft and weave of her mind.