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

Ophelia's first thoughts were those of victory, and of continuance of duty--and then relief at not feeling the queer sensation in her blood (she didn't know how Farren and Torquil stomached it)--both of which were exceedingly short-lived indeed. Shadow dawned across the peace of the Hunter's Dream as some force conspired to shroud the source of light in this place from them, and all of the colour and vibrancy in their surroundings seemed to drain away. 

Then... the song. Whatever it was it keened in lilting, off-key melodies, and Ophelia barely heard more than two notes before she quickstepped immediately towards the little Workshop to stow the chalice away. She tried to summon her thoughts, to work out what had happened, but amidst the unnatural dampening of light and life she found her faculties failing her and sought only to protect their prize before some other horrible creature could invade their sanctum and potentially ruin everything they had worked for. Fear was a woefully insufficient word to describe what she felt in that moment, for it was as though nothing in the world was right or ever would be again. As though the very essence of hope had been extinguished, and all that was left to them was the bitter reality of their ultimately futile efforts... that all things would suffer as a gilded sun dawned and the world fell under the thrall of their greatest enemy. Visions of that awful crab-like device upon Victor's head assaulted Ophelia's mind, as though His tendrils could insert themselves into her very brain and steal her away too... and as she finished her quickstep, she sprinted as quickly as she could make her body move into the Workshop both to stow away her prize and get away from whatever the horrible thing that had invaded their Dream was.