[center][h2][b]Ophelia[/b][/h2][/center]

Ophelia nodded at Farren's words, but took especial notice of him--of his eyes, his tears, and of a familiar guilt she could see beneath it all. She turned to him after he'd finished speaking, seemingly able to sense the unspoken thing he daren't let pass his lips for fear that might make it true. She walked over to him and pulled him close, holding him, and embracing him tightly and fiercely with her free arm as she buried her head in the nook of his shoulder for a moment in commiseration, in truly shared pain.

"Victor... they trapped him in this Golden armour, took control of his body. I think they tortured him... I think... he probably didn't turn on us, and they stole him away instead. The doll, those corpses... it wasn't your fault. We agreed this, the Moonborn assented in their silence. It was [i]him[/i], all him." she whispered into his ear amidst sniffles and sobs of rage and sadness both. She didn't want him to feel alone in this, knew that it would serve no purpose but the [b]bastard's[/b], and... Farren was a good man. Not before, no, but was she good before either? Were any of them? It didn't matter--he'd chosen them, to stick by them, to share in their trials and tribulations. The world was huge and they had the power to hop across it in mere moments; solitude was an easy thing to come by, if one wanted it.

"We'll get her back. We will. We [b]will[/b]." she affirmed before she released him, gingerly took the sack from him with a knowing nod (assuming his assent) and moved to grab Gerlinde before heading to the Vileblood Queen's Chamber.