[color=#1A1A3B][b][u][h1][sub][sub][sub]Farren[/sub][/sub][/sub][/h1][/u][/b][/color]		     heard the words, processed what they meant, and they gave him no solace. While that had not been the point, he’d hoped that maybe for much of it she’d already been mad, but it seemed that the progression had been more subtle than that. It seemed that despite her madness, Gerlinde was entirely aware throughout and the rationalization that she didn’t matter–or at least that she hadn’t–would likely have done little to stymie the fear and pain and confusion as her body was repeatedly used and abused in the interest of twisted experimentation. All for what? The Scholars had all vanished in one way or another, they were likely all dead or worse…so what had it all been for. Who carried on whatever paltry knowledge they might have gleaned? Farren frowned, still staring at the night sky. Farren felt bile rise in his throat as anger bubbled in his gut. He swallowed hard and glanced at Gerlinde with a sigh, for what good would his anger do them now? [color=#1A1A3B][b]“For what little it is worth, at least you’re with us now. Perhaps whatever they gained…helped someone, in the end,”[/b][/color] he added the second sentence slowly, haltingly, then looked away.

He didn’t really believe it.

Farren knew that though Gerlinde didn’t seem to blame him, didn’t even seem to mind the position in which she’d ended up, that he would likely never feel better about having done what he had. He tried to pull his attention elsewhere, noticing a melancholy that hung about Ophelia and a strange shift in Torquil–though the latter was far more subtle.

[color=#1A1A3B][b]“What’s on your mind, Ophelia?”[/b][/color] Farren asked, deciding to start there as his long strides let him keep up with the others.