[color=#1A1A3B][b][u][h1][sub][sub][sub]Farren[/sub][/sub][/sub][/h1][/u][/b][/color]		    took in the sights and sounds as they made their way towards the industrial ward, refamiliarizing himself with the streets of Yharnam that he could not easily recall. This had the side effect of making him even more acutely aware of the way that other hunters and huntsmen looked at Ophelia as they passed them by. Farren wasn’t certain if it was her garb or the brilliant sapphire luminescence of her blade, but either way it was something he stowed away for later. It wasn’t new information of course, but every morsel mattered, no matter how small or insignificant it seemed in the moment it was witnessed.

As they jogged along, passing beneath the flickering lamplights of the city, Farren could not help but notice as the pale moonlight from above seemed to gradually become a presence all its own. He almost swore he could feel its light, like a caress, against his skin. The azure-eyed hunter tried not to linger on that thought, did his best not to give it purchase in his mind, but unlike Ophelia he could not take its pale gaze as a blessing or a boon. Though he mostly shoved the impression aside, it itched at him and he kept a measure of attention on that fact, lest it become a niggling paranoia as it nested in his brain.

Eventually, their surroundings began to change, gradually at first, then seemingly all at once as the nature of the buildings around them changed altogether. However, none of that was nearly so impactful as the sudden, shrill, painfully loud shriek that all at once assaulted them, filling the once-quiet night air with rage and desperation both.

Farren recoiled, stumbling in his step before catching himself as he brought his hands up to cover his ears as well. A pained look crossed his features, but it quickly solidified into a grim seriousness instead. As the sound faded, he lowered his hands, now following Ophelia’s path. After what they had witnessed with the Lightbeast, Farren entirely agreed with her. Some so-called beasts were not truly beasts at all…just people taken monstrous shape, empowered beyond the bounds of humanity by the potency of the Old Blood.

So, grimly, Farren kept pace with Ophelia as they headed–quite surely–into the jaws of a conflict they could not yet know the shape of. All the while, Farren’s left hand kept a grip on the True Blades of Mercy at his hip, ever ready to spring into action.

To her words, he made no reply, his actions enough to signal his agreement.