[color=#1A1A3B][b][u][h1][sub][sub][sub]Farren[/sub][/sub][/sub][/h1][/u][/b][/color]		    wondered at the distress he saw in her eyes, his chest tight with the knowledge that [i]something else[/i] terrible must have happened before they’d even arrived. Farren breathed, wiped his eyes, annoyed at the presence of the tears. He gave Torquil a small nod of acknowledgement, in some ways glad for the silent company, in others wishing he were alone again.

He knew it was best that he wasn’t alone, however. When Ophelia’s harsh, pained scream—a sound of anguish and rage both—echoed out, Farren didn’t turn and run to her. He visibly, almost violently, winced. Like it had hurt him—and not because his hearing was sensitive.

Some time later—both too long and too short—Ophelia stormed from the workshop, he hadn’t turned to look right away, but he could tell by the sound of her steps. When he did turn…well, she looked a bit like a storm too. It was the first time seeing her well and truly angry in a way he understood. Not aggrieved like she’d been when they’d argued some hours ago, but filled with a righteous fury. He understood that feeling, he nodded, somehow buoyed by the fact that they seemed to feel the same way…and the fact that no one was blaming him—even if he was.

[color=#1A1A3B][b]“You go, let us stay. I’ll send for you if the lack of the false blood’s presence returns her to us,”[/b][/color] Farren said, sounding resolute. [color=#1A1A3B][b]“I’ll see if I can help Moonborn with the ritual…and explain to Amaris if she…if she returns to us.”[/b][/color] His voice was thick for a moment after he said her name, his usually confident and unshakeable gaze shifting away for a moment, then back. She’d see guilt written in that hesitation, before he steeled himself again.

[color=#1A1A3B][b]“And with Torquil and myself not leaving and returning unnecessarily…we’ll avoid stirring the [i]Bastard’s[/i] power again,”[/b][/color] he added, venom in his utterance of the appellation.