[color=#1A1A3B][b][u][h1][sub][sub][sub]Farren[/sub][/sub][/sub][/h1][/u][/b][/color]		    restrained himself, managing not to react as Ophelia reiterated her intent to parlay with Ego. He took a breath and let the tension in his jaw ease and then vanish entirely, deliberately relaxing as much as he could. [color=#1A1A3B][b]“I suspect…”[/b][/color] he began, taking another deep breath, [color=#1A1A3B][b]“…that the bastard likely sees me more as a potential pawn…a vessel for its will than a true player in the game. Though the Mask rune can shield me while inscribed upon my mind, any other time…Ego’s influence—its presence—is like a silken worm in my skull.”[/b][/color]

He hated to admit it, to speak of how easily it seemed the Great One could just…reach inside him and compel obeisance, paranoia, or both. [color=#1A1A3B][b]“Other times the worm grows teeth and seethes, gnashing at my senses…or it once did. Like whispers just beyond hearing, barely audible…or faint touches that you’re not sure you really felty…figures and phantasms at the edges of one’s vision.”[/b][/color]

Farren shuddered, the hazy memories of the times before—nearest to his ministration—making gooseflesh breakout, the hairs on his neck standing on end. He took another breath and shook himself slightly. It barely helped.

[color=#1A1A3B][b]“Same thing that the Vicar…or Frenzy can do to me,”[/b][/color] he added to finish—though Gerlinde wouldn’t know to what he was referring, in regards to the latter.