Ophelia's reaction upon seeing Dietrich would normally have been to smile brilliantly; something about him was piercingly effulgent, which coaxed forth a similar light from her--but not this time. Ophelia's face was uncharacteristically contorted into one of horror and concern, the kind one makes when one has assumed the worst and is yet to find out whether their fears have come true. Thanks to her now rather exceptional stamina her breathing was not even laboured, the shock of which failed to make an impact upon her in that moment, and she quickly asked Dietrich her most pressing question:
"Please tell me she's still alive?" she spoke, delivered tremblingly and pleadingly as though she could will it into existence by speaking it. She looked truly on the verge of tears, held back by the most gossamer veil of hope that perhaps she had not inadvertently caused such a thing to pass. It was her fault. She knew the effect Harold would have on the others and still brought them there anyway, still subjected them to Ego and allowed Harold to coax forth information that shouldn't have been his to act upon. The chain of consequence followed from her irresponsibility, and if something irreversible had happened... She did not think she would be able to forgive herself, not for a while.

Dietrich seemed a bit taken aback by the intensity of Ophelia's question, but also seemed too exhausted to react very strongly to it. "Who?"

"The Crowmother, she..." Ophelia replied, blinking twice and taking a measured breath in through her nose. "the situation may have been misrepresented, and..." she began, cutting herself off from waffling more before she got the answer.

Dietrich blinked. "Who's the Crowmother?"

Ophelia looked around. "What did you just fight? There... Harold... Wait, wait, there's something I need to do first. You caught up with Victor at the Workshop before leaving, yes?"

"Caught up? The only time I've spoken with Victor tonight was when he returned from being supposed to fetch you guys."

"Ah, never mind, it's besides the point. I mentioned to you Caryll Runes when we spoke before--and I've discovered one most serendipitously. I'd... like to give it to you, if you'd be willing to receive my boon?"

“Might help with the exhaustion,” Farren offered, lying so seamlessly that it sounded like a casual truth. For his part, Farren’s azure eyes were darted about briefly, then slowed to scan the area more thoroughly. He didn’t stand idle as Ophelia spoke with Dietrich though, instead he began to walked about the area where this battle had taken place, looking for more details. In a way…he was like a hunter or a ranger trying to read what had happened from the signs the conflict had left behind. His hand remained on the hilt of the True Blade of Mercy. All the while he kept everyone’s positions in mind and kept his senses primed for anything of note. This could turn ugly at any moment, especially if Dietrich became suspicious of them or refused to accept the rune.

There was a moment where Dietrich merely narrowed one eye but kept smiling blindingly, then the other eye narrowed, and finally his brow knotted in confusion as his smile somewhat faltered. He had little reason to be distrustful of Ophelia and knew practically nothing of the rest of them, but what had just happened had just been altogether too jarring for him to ignore.
Pausing to use his left hand to scrape as much blood off his face as possible, Dietrich shot a glance at Farren before turning back to Ophelia.
"I'm confused," he declared uncomfortably. "You were so concerned about whether this 'Crowmother' is still alive, but then you suddenly decide that asking about Victor is more urgent, and now you have a Caryll Rune you want to brand me with? I..."
He shook his head and heaved a sigh. "The beast I just fought was the single most dangerous thing I have ever faced, so you'll have to forgive me for being a little wearier than usual. I nearly died several times. But..." His eyes widened slightly and darted to look at one of the giant black feathers on the ground. "Ah. The beast is still alive, yes. It reduced me to the brink of death and then fled." He nodded his head to indicate a southeastern direction.
"Now..." he began with another deep sigh, "tell me about this rune. Why is it that important?"

Looking around, Farren would find that there was not much to learn from the battlefield. Unlike back at the square, where they had seen signs of two massive beasts clashing, all the damage here seemed to be caused by the same creature. The damage was quite spread out, though, with no two scars upon the terrain overlapping nor being too close to each other. In fact, most of the instances of damage seemed to be approximately five meters - just about one Hunter quickstep - from the another, as if the beast had been chasing around someone with a Hunter's agility. There was no body or bodyparts in sight.

Ophelia listened to Dietrich and gave him a weary nod and sigh in return. "A lot has happened. I trust you with the truth. We came across this square earlier after speaking with Moira, and interviewed some of the locals about that grisly scene in the square. We discovered that this beast--the Crowmother--protects the locals and asks only to be left alone, and for her flock to be watched over. We reported back to Vicar Harold and he must have then misunderstood or misrepresented the situation to you--the Crowmother is intelligent enough that we can't call her a beast. Her mind isn't lost to the Scourge, she's just... a person in a different form. She left you alive, praise be to Mother Moon. Harold sent us to Yahar'gul, and we encountered a similar situation there: we fought a darkbeast of horrifying strength, siphoning strength from another not-beast like the Crowmother, an intelligent one. She used to be a Saint for the old Healing Church, I gather, and they'd been torturing her to fuel their defences and project an illusion, as well as heal the darkbeast whenever it took damage. For it to happen once might be a coincidence I could dismiss, but for it to happen to both of us with such immediacy? And you remember that queer sensation we got while walking to the gardens of being watched? I've discovered what that is, too. The rune... will prevent unseen influences, and bolster your mind against intrusion. I gave a different rune to Victor and it ended up saving his life, I mentioned him in hopes that if you had met at the workshop he might have mentioned it so you could be assured of my good intentions. Forgive my doubt in your chivalry, dear, I've had a real shitter of a day. That doesn't even begin to explain everything, but the Rune is important first. Gosh, look at you, let me help..." Ophelia explained, trying her best to condense a lot of events into as short an explanation as she could manage and did her best to help Dietrich clean up, if he accepted.

Dietrich waved her off when she went to help him clean up. "It'll take much more than we can do here to get me presentable, I'm afraid. But you certainly sound as though you've had quite the night already." He scratched his head - his usually brilliantly golden-blonde hair currently dark and matted with blood and grime - and glanced first at Torquil and then at Gerlinde. Then he pointed to Farren. "So if what you're saying is true, he lied?"

"It seems that way to me. You've had a corker yourself, love, though I hope meeting me is as much a highlight as meeting you was for me." Ophelia spoke, though she turned to look at Farren too.

Farren finished his assessment as Ophelia conversed with the First Hunter, internally a bit annoyed that they were wasting precious time. They still didn’t know where Moira was…and now this Crowmother was likely injured. Injured beasts were far more dangerous than those that were hale and whole, because they could act far more erratically…and this was not just any beast, it was an intelligent one. That made it worse, insofar as he was concerned. Still, perhaps he should’ve just kept his mouth shut.
As Dietrich indirectly addressed Gale’s lie, he sighed a bit, standing up from where he’d been examining some of the feathers the Crowmother had dropped or shed during the fight. “It was in the interest of expediency…” he said frankly, frowning slightly, “…but that’s no excuse. My apologies,” Farren said, dipping his head in a gesture of apology and respect.
“I should have better trusted Ophelia’s impressions of you,” he said frankly, trying to be more adaptable. He knew that the man likely wouldn’t fully trust him at all—or at least until he proved he was worthy of it. A shame, but one that was his own fault. “Too much going on tonight…too many places we should be, not enough time to be in all of them.”
Farren shook his head slightly, not shying away from meeting Dietrich’s eyes in the least. He seemed genuinely apologetic, but he’d also seemed to be telling the truth earlier so…that probably didn’t account for much.

"Is that so?" Dietrich looked from Farren to Ophelia, no longer smiling. "And why is it so important and urgent that I receive this rune of yours?"

“There are a great many forces at play in the city and it is hard to know who to trust. The Rune she speaks of helps to ensure that whoever we work with…that their decisions are entirely their own,” Farren replied. There was a gruff, to the point quality to him as he spoke, one that Ophelia and Torquil—and Gerlinde as well by this point were quite familiar with, but that Dietrich was not just yet.

Ophelia found herself truly baffled as to why Farren would lie, equal parts confusion and anger dawning on her face as she found her mind slowing down enough to finally parse what exactly it was that just happened. "I have no idea why Farren lied to you, and such a stupid one at that? You've been acting up since the darkbeast, Farren, and I'm about running out of patience for it. The rune is, like I said, a ward against mental intrusion and influences that would act against you--we've reason to believe that a pernicious influence exists in the Grand Cathedral and has people acting strangely--maybe even Harold? He's definitely something to do with it. I... wanted to give you the rune so that if you had been affected you would know, and that you could act upon it with true agency. Even if nothing has taken root, I'd feel much better knowing that you were effectively immune to it--I wanted to give you the gift of surety it gave us."

Dietrich's eyes narrowed. "So you gave the Lord Vicar this rune already?"

"No, not yet. I have worries about how complicit he is, and... I trust you. I wanted to come to you with it first because I thought we felt like kindred spirits when we spoke earlier. I... I'm scared of whatever's happening there, Dietrich. That sensation like we were being watched, it... it came from something in there, something beyond normal sight. Don't... don't you find it strange that everyone calls Harold a 'nice old man'? It's always that phrase in particular, and it just... it scares me. I realise I'm asking a lot of trust, just... please? I will answer any questions you have as truthfully as I can." Ophelia replied, exasperated and upset and above all else feeling truly scared that the chance to make an ally who they could trust was slipping through their fingers. Ophelia felt very much like she desperately needed allies in the Waking World, not just their little crew of Palebloods, after recent events.

While Ophelia spoke, Dietrich stood from his piece of rubble and moved to stand behind his sword, putting it between himself and the party, and placed both hands on its crossguard. His stance was straight and firm, regal in spite of the state he was in, and his expression hardened.
He stared at Ophelia intently for a couple of seconds, but rather than address the matter at hand he then glanced around him suspiciously. "Why did you come here, to this gods forsaken ward?"

"For you. When Victor said we'd just missed you I feared the worst... I wanted to get to you before any of this happened, to stop an attack on the undeserving Crowmother. It also made sense to try and get you when you weren't at the White Workshop, so we were away from the presence there. As Paleblood Hunters we can interact with little creatures native to the Nightmare who help us with storing items and whatnot," Ophelia began, crouching slightly as she spoke to beckon forth the little ones with the Rosmarinus she'd handed to them for safekeeping. Assuming they came she'd grab the thing and show Dietrich, before handing it back off to them. "they can't manifest at the White Workshop, which is highly irregular - they're supposed to be able to manifest anywhere. The presence there, in the Grand Cathedral, stops them. Something very odd is happening, and meeting you here seemed to be a rare opportunity to talk away from its prying eyes that I couldn't simply pass up. If the rune doesn't do anything I will be happy to remove it or offer you something else that might help you--but I ask that you please trust me enough or indulge me enough to let me apply it, if only for a moment?" Ophelia continued, hoping the little display proved something about her words true in Dietrich's heart.

Dietrich shook his head incredulously. "Are you hearing yourself right now? You came here to stop me from killing what turned out to be the most vile beast I have ever laid eyes on, let alone faced - a beast that attacked me, not the other way around - and to inflict me with a Caryll Rune that you claim will alter my perception of reality. Claiming that it will protect me from some 'pernicious influence' that you even dare claim the Lord Vicar is complicit with, to the point where you would not offer this protection to him?"
His fingers curled around the crossguard of the sword. "I have served Vicar Harold faithfully for years as his First Hunter. He is a nice old man that we can trust... and you claim this is some manner of falsehood that your rune will dispel? How do you or I know whether your rune reveals the truth rather than veil it? Would you yourselves even know if the rune was deceiving you? It is not just you I am required to trust, Miss Ophelia, but also the eldritch powers you would visit upon me... and I find it much more likely that what you behold is the falsehood rather than the truth."
"We could just teach him the rune and lend him the runebrand to do it himself if he wants," Gerlinde offered with a shrug. "When we learn runes we also learn what they do."
Dietrich scoffed. "As if I would believe a word that comes out of your mouth, Gerlinde. If I was to believe one person here was delusional, it would be you."

Though he kept his mouth firmly shut due to the damage he'd clearly already done, Farren's jaw tensed at the man's words. Dietrich wasn't entirely wrong, but the man's words also spoke of a sort of subtle insidious arrogance that often remained entirely unnoticed by those it afflicted. It reeked of self-righteousness and presumption. All based on the so called 'undeniable fact' that the actions one had taken previously ensured that the actions they took henceforth must surely be the right ones.
Standing somewhat away from the others, Farren might be seen pinching at the bridge of his nose, massaging lightly as if he'd began to develop a headache.
Some part of him had the sneaking suspicion that somehow this would end up being 'entirely his fault'....

"She is correct, though, Dietrich. That is how the runes work. Would it put you at ease for me to apply the rune to myself first? For you to learn it so you can judge for yourself what we're saying? If there is a means of proving to you that I am telling the truth, I will gladly do it."

"How do you prove it to me? How do you even prove it to yourself?" Dietrich said sadly. "I'm sorry, but I cannot accept what you have told me without proof... and I am not convinced that the proof you offer would not merely afflict a deception upon me of which you are already victims."

"What if you had testimony from an outsider?" the voice of an unseen speaker abruptly asked, and a dark shadow - black as the night itself - detached itself from the gloom within the smog to the south of them, turning into a figure.
Dietrich's eyes widened as he turned toward the voice, recognizing the it just as the party would. "Mother Moira?!"
"You intuitively know what Caryll Runes do when you learn them," Moira assured him. "And they don't do anything until you memorize them with the runebrand. Learning it is safe."

"Moira! Mother Moon above, what serendipity. You should hear everything we've discovered too--would you like to be taught the rune?" Ophelia asked, equally shocked as Dietrich but significantly more relieved.

"Not serendipity. Inevitability." Moira walked up close enough that they could see her better, making it plainly obvious that she was unhurt, her garb undamaged and that she was still wielding her Impaler. "I was investigating the area. You knew this. Dietrich fought Crowmother. You could hear that fight from the other side of Yharnam. Of course I would come here." She paused. "And yes, teach me the rune. That will also help convince Dietrich."

Ophelia sighed and withdrew the runebrand, quickly configuring it and presenting the projection case to Moira. "The Mask rune," she started and moved over to Moira to teach her.
"Current testing suggests that application of the rune will break whatever influences already exist upon someone and the rune can then be removed. I know you prefer Metamorphosis, so let me know which you'd like to keep. The sigil of the Crowmother is also a Caryll Rune, did you know? The Deep Sea rune, that protects against ailments of the body like Ashen Blood or Frenzy. I wonder if that's why people can live here despite the pollution?" She added, finding herself speaking mostly out of not wanting there to be silence and her general eagerness to share.

Unsurprised by Dietrich's rejection of their proposal, Farren had briefly shuttered his gaze to nurse the growing headache behind his eyes. However, it seemed that prior events--in their way--had conspired to rescue them from their own missteps, a fact that he could not help but find mildly amusing. Of course, that did not keep him from finding Ophelia's 'approach' to be...rather heavy handed. His own contribution, of course, hadn't helped, but ultimately he was glad that things seemed to be moving in a direction other than the one the conversation had swiftly been turning to.
Much more subtly, Farren found his surprise fading quickly as Moira's words affirmed the reasoning that had been forming in his own mind before he'd even cemented them in place. It truly was a relief to see her...and furthermore, a relief that she had not returned to the White Church and been directed to some new goal by the foul Vicar. “It is good to see you well,” Farren said simply by way of greeting to the stalwart huntress. He gave her a respectful nod, then glanced back towards Dietrich, briefly assessing his reaction to the change caused by Moira's arrival.

As always it was difficult to discern much in the way of reaction from Moira due to her helmet visor obscuring her face, but she cooperated with Ophelia and learned the Mask Rune. "I once knew the Deep Sea Rune. Didn't remember that's what it looks like. It's been years. Curious." She turned to look at Dietrich. "I have learned the Mask Rune. They are telling the truth. Let's you see through illusion and resist compulsion. Very useful." She turned back to Ophelia. "More useful than just being more physically capable. Brand me."
Dietrich, meanwhile, simply watched and listened from a distance, though he seemed much less guarded than before.

Ophelia nodded and did so gladly, beckoning Dietrich as she did so to look at the runebrand. "The projection case here is what projects the rune, and the brand sears it into your mind with phantom pain. It does sting, rather, especially the first time--but you're no stranger to pain. This is what the Mask rune looks like," Ophelia spoke as she administered the rune to Moira, hoping to see some of the eagerness and curiosity that she'd witnessed earlier when speaking about her blade.

Dietrich seemed obviously curious, but also reluctant to indulge in that curiosity given their prior conversation. Yet as Ophelia showed Moira the projection case and touched the runebrand to her offered arm - prompting a small twitch of tension at contact - he could not help but come closer and lean in to better observe what was happening.
"Huh," Moira vocalized as the Mask Rune took effect. "Interesting." She turned to Dietrich. "The world looks the same. I don't feel any different. It is safe."
"I..." Dietrich said with a frown, but still hesitated. "I suppose... if you think it's so important..."

"A light as brilliant as yours should never be occluded." Ophelia smiled, feeling the first surge of relief and hope since their little spat in the dream. She dutifully performed the same service, making sure to give him warning of when the brand was about to touch him, and observed him carefully to see the results.

Dietrich received the Mask Rune with a twitch similar to the one Moira had had, and then proceeded to examine his arm for marks. "I, uh..." he began, halted, then finally concluded: "Yeah, Mother Moira was right. I don't feel any different either."

"When Torquil and Farren here met with Vicar Harold they were afflicted with a compulsion to think of him as a nice old man, and upon receiving the rune became aware of that fact and no longer subject to its influence. If you think about Vicar Harold is there something similar there?" Ophelia mused, briefly looking over to Farren, Torquil, and Gerlinde before moving her gaze back to Dietrich and Moira.

"I..." Dietrich stared off into the distance, his brow furrowing. "There was that, yes, but that wasn't all. I specifically had to think about him as a nice old man that I could trust. I... dear gods, I've blindly accepted everything he has ever told me. Oh... oh. Oh no." His pupils gradually shrank as he spoke until they were reduced to tiny black pinpricks amidst the pale blue iris. Finally he turned his head and his eyes focused on Ophelia. "He's not human."

Ophelia nodded grimly. "We thought as much. Now that your minds are your own I'll share everything we've discovered--there is a Great One by the name of Ego, who was roused after..." Ophelia began, before her attention was drawn to something else and she made a connection in her mind.

Right next to the little group, just a few meters away, they experienced a repeat of what had happened earlier in their run, as another golden tentacle suddenly burst out of the ground. It looked like the same tentacle, like before it emerged in a similar manner to how the Messengers did, and like before it shone its cone of golden light over all of them before vanishing as abruptly as it had arrived.
Dietrich's eyes widened in surprise, but true to his rank he showed no signs of fear. Both he had Moira immediately took a step back away from the disembodied appendage and readied their weapons, and both seemed to remain on guard even after it had left.

"I think saying his name might be a bad idea--that's him, the tentacle. That's what the sensation we got of being watched at the gardens was, it turns out. It was Gerlinde who first noticed, really--we're lucky to have her expertise with the Nightmare. Farren's the one with the most experience of his influence, though--do you want the Mask rune, Farren? It seemed to help before." Ophelia offered as explanation, turning to include Farren in the conversation. Whatever tension she'd had about his lie earlier seemed to have evaporated when Dietrich accepted the rune, though she looked very frazzled and tired still.

Relief began to truly take hold as things went well with Moira…and then Dietrich in kind. Farren nodded, finding it oddly satisfying—and ameliorating—as he watched Dietrich realize just how thoroughly the Vicar had wrapped him around his finger. He noted too that Ophelia seemed to actually begin to relax and even regain some of what he considered her usual vigor. It brought a smile to his features as he enjoyed a rare moment’s respite from the nigh constant tensions of the Night of the Hunt since they’d awoken into their new roles. Then both the senior hunters reacted to something, something he realized he couldn’t see. Farren’s smile vanished, his eyes narrowed, and his gaze pivoted to and through the spot they seemed to be directing their attention at.
Nothing.
A shiver ran through Farren and a familiar twitch worried the corner of his left eye. Almost instinctively, Farren bared his teeth, the hand that had been on his weapon just barely finding itself restrained by his better judgement before he drew it in earnest. His mind immediately fixated, thinking back mere moments, realizing immediately that Ophelia had said the dread bastard’s name.
He took a deep, stilling breath, and then released it, his stance easing up as well. “It was the Golden Bastard again…wasn’t it?” He gritted out, the tension that had left his body remaining quite present in his voice. He closed his eyes, Ophelia’s voice rolling over him, along with her offer. For a long handful of seconds, Farren’s brow was furrowed and he didn’t reply. Then, finally, he managed to shake himself from the hold of the aggrieved fury that had come over him.
“It…won’t help. Not with this, but perhaps for a moment it would be wise,” he said in reply, tension still present in his voice, though the words weren’t gritted out as they had been mere moments before. His eyes remained closed as he focused on getting the rushing hunger in his blood to calm itself to something more manageable.

"Whenever you're ready," Ophelia began, preparing the runebrand for Farren and performing the procedure as soon as he was ready. In the interim she turned back to Dietrich and Moira and took some more balancing and grounding breaths herself before she spoke again.
"I hadn't really considered what to do from here. I just... knew it was important to shield you both from its influence and share what we've found out. I fear I just lost us the element of surprise, and almost fumbled the bag besides, so perhaps I can try to give my mind a bit of a rest... Perhaps I'll sit down a bit." Ophelia smiled, letting herself sit and begin to really calm down. The Holy Moonlight Sword's light was always there, always waiting--she had only to let herself partake of it. She tilted her head back to look up at the moon and waited for the others to respond.

Farren indicated his readiness almost immediately, this time feeling almost nothing when she branded him. What little pain there was only served to ground him in the moment and in his body. He let himself remain in that moment for perhaps the whole of thirty seconds before he finally opened his azure eyes once more and nodded to Ophelia in a wordless thanks. “You can stow your weapons for now,” Farren said to Moira and Dietrich, “It’s unlikely to attack us here. Hard to say if it simply can’t…or if it simply chooses not to.”
He glanced to Dietrich, “Again, my apologies for the lie, First Hunter. Perhaps you see now why I tried to rush us to a point after you’d been brought into the protection of the Rune.”

"I can't say that I do," Dietich admitted solemnly. "Unless what you wanted from we was specifically to act against my Healing Church or Vicar Harold, I was entirely capable and willing to do it before. If anything, your 'protection' has exposed me to grave danger by drawing the veil from my eyes. I can't go back to the workshop again; I can't be the First Hunter anymore. My old life has been wiped away in an instant." He shook his head grimly. "Terrible things are going to happen because of this, to all of Yharnam."
"During my reconnaissance," Moira suddenly interjected, "I found something. Something the townsfolk told me about. The Crow Hunter." She looked at Ophelia and Farren in turn. "We should go. All of us. I think you should meet."

"I thought that if we could not operate in truth, we could not operate at all--that only from knowing could we act reasonably and intelligently. I fear I've been as manipulated as any of us, earnest and open as I am. Harold directed me to Yahar'gul, perhaps it was their intention to guide me to this tool. I received a message from them, you see, from the little ones--in Golden ink. It said..." Ophelia began:

Such insight you have obtained already, Ophelia. The Witches of Hemwick would be proud. As am I, of you and Farren both. You have both come so far in very little time. If you want to meet face to face, come to the Grand Cathedral. I will show you my Dream.

"So it wants us... and, well, it was your experiment. Or... Harold's? I don't think that you could have been attributed agency beneath the influence... You were the highest authority I could think of, and... I turned somewhat to the Shopkeeper, but as Moira will attest, they are.. limited in usefulness. Too violent. Yes, sorry Moira, you have a piece of the picture to show us. Gods, I talk too much." Ophelia spoke thoughtfully, managing to catch herself before she got too far into a ramble.

‘Is a life living beneath the inescapable thrall of another truly worth living?’ he didn’t say. Instead he nodded solemnly in reply to Dietrich’s words. He understood the man’s distress after all. In fact, he did not speak until Ophelia had entirely finished, which had given him ample time to think over his next words. First, he looked to Moira, seeming most interested in the new information she’d provided and the potential opportunity it presented. “The Crow Hunter, now that is rather interesting,” he commented, looking thoughtful for a moment before he looked to Dietrich, “My condolences for your loss. Truthfully though, going back still shrouded in the Bastard’s influence would have been a danger to the entire city, not to speak anything of what it might do to you if it discovered you were attempting subterfuge against it right beneath its…nose, if you will. That said…I agree with Moira, the Crow Hunter may have yet more intel for us. The more we know, the better informed our actions can be…the less guess work will be required for us to turn the tide in the city.”

"This is a danger to the entire city, too," Dietrich told Farren sadly. "I may be but one man, one Hunter, but I was the First Hunter, Dietrich of the Shining Wing. I was not only the foremost defender of Yharnam and her people, I was its symbol of peace and nobility." He sighed. "In truth, my loss doesn't trouble me nearly as much as the thought of what will happen to those who looked to me as a leader and an ideal. I was just a man before I came to Yharnam, and I am now just a man again; this is not new to me. I shall continue to do my very best to earn my name and reputation."
"You talk too much," Moira declared dispassionately. "Come. And try not to stand out. Crowmother is still around, and lives not far from the Crow Hunter. If she spots us, she will attack."

“Best we get moving then,” Farren said in response, managing to suppress all but the most subtle signs of laughter at her words. What Dietrich described, well...it was noble, perhaps his role had truly been essential in its way, but as one born of the common folk...there was always someone else ready to take one's place. They could only hope that whoever did so was at least some meaningful fraction as good at heart as Dietrich seemed to be.

Ophelia nodded along with Farren and moved to walk beside Dietrich, offering her free arm for him to take like old times if he wanted. She looked somewhat dimmed from her earlier surge of brightness, but clearly still much relieved for Dietrich's presence and even seeming to have gotten over her complicated feelings towards Farren. She habitually looked around for Gerlinde, too, knowing that chaos often followed the huntress when unattended.

Noticing Ophelia looking at her, Gerlinde sent her a mischievous grin before taking a breath and saying, loudly and clearly: "Ego!"
Once more, after just a second or two's delay, the familiar golden tentacle - which Farren could now actually see for the first time, though Torquil remained blind to it - shot out of the ground. Before it could even begin to sweep its light across them, Gerlinde spoke again: "Ego!"
Rather than its usual scanning cone of light, the tentacle turned its bulbuous tip toward Gerlinde and shone its light on her specifically. And she said: "Ego! Ego! Ego-Ego-Ego-Ego!"
The tentacle kept shining on her for another couple of seconds, then retracted again.

Ophelia raised an eyebrow at Gerlinde's antics, wondering just what she was going for with her little experiment. She half expected some attack, some attempt to sever the tentacle, but Gerlinde seemed happy enough with her results.
"A bold choice, dear, what did you seek to learn? Did you learn it? Would... you like the Mask rune before you try anything like that again?" Ophelia asked, thinking it better to engage with Gerlinde rather than simply try to chide her.

"Why? I can already see it," Gerlinde giggled. "It was half to test if it was actually reacting to the word 'Ego', and half to annoy him. Ego!"
She repeated the name since at this point there was once again a tentacle, reacting to the first mention, and once again its light seemed to focus entirely on her.
"Besides," she mused through her smile as the tentacle slithered back into the ground, "maybe if I say it enough he'll stop caring. 'The boy who cried wolf' and all that."

"What'd be more annoying than summoning the tentacles and letting him get zero read on you whatsoever?" Ophelia countered, a small but sly grin creeping across her face.

Gerlinde seemed to ponder for a second, but very quickly her eyes started to wander along with her attention. "We'll see. For now it sounds like we're going to see something new and interesting again."

The corner of Farren's eye twitched as he beheld the manifestation of Ego's attention rose from the ground. His eyes narrowed, as he wasn't surprised by its reaction or presence, having known now that the Golden Bastard responded whenever its name was uttered. He squared his jaw and kept from otherwise reacting as Gerlinde repeatedly invoked the so-called Great One's attention. Eventually, much to his relief, she stopped, her attention shifting elsewhere. Relaxing, Farren glanced to Moira, ready to follow her lead in the interest of meeting the Crow Hunter.
“Lead on then, we ought not to linger, what with the Crowmother's temperament,” Farren said, reaffirming the need for them to get moving.