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

Before she'd even had chance to put the Holy Moonlight Sword to rest the moment of opportunity rose, and Ophelia resolved herself to enact her manoeuvre. She watched as Arrayah angled the tip of the Profane Blade downwards and struck with tremendous speed that Farren used his own to counter, and in bringing the blade into reach Ophelia unfurled like a coiled spring released and quickstepped in towards the pair from her standing position, breaking into a sprint as she did. As she travelled she squeezed her right hand until she felt a pop of pressure and the glass comprising the hourglass broke, scattering the scale-sand within as a potent force was released. With time frozen to a standstill for everyone else, Ophelia moved as quickly as physically possibly to get into range--quickstepping if necessary--and touched the luminous tip of her blade to its counterpart as she quickly incanted the words of power: "Gestalt Truth!"

She honed her will to a razor's edge, pouring all of her sense of self and determination into the Holy Moonlight Sword and its counterpart, seeking to wrest control over the opposing half from Arrayah. Arrayah's sense of self was strong to have remained this intact for this long, and the eons, perhaps longer, some unthinkable amount of time that Arrayah had to bond with the opposing weapon had no doubt won its allegiance completely... but Ophelia knew from the Profane Blade's other half that it yearned to be whole--and more than that, that it yearned to be free. [i]Release yourself from Arrayah, who languishes here in the dark between worlds. I am Moon-touched, blessed by the Dream, immortal! All the worlds, waking and nightmare, are mine to traverse--let yourself be bound here no more![/i] she not-quite-thought, her thoughts and desires moving too quickly and too powerfully to be contained or expressed by something as crude as language or thought. Versed in rune-lore as she was, perhaps it was something akin to a rune of her own, forming in this instant as a bridge between two halves... or perhaps it was simply the frenzied and fevered wishes of a half-mad witch falling short. She could not know, but she believed with all of her being that she truly was the rightful wielder of this blessed-and-cursed weapon. Whether it responded in kind she would know only upon the resolution.

In either case, she prepared once again to quickstep away as soon as the deed was done. She would need some distance to prevent Arrayah from simply snatching the weapon back, though given Farren's frozen form about to unleash an attack of considerable power she would have more than enough to contend with. Once time unfroze she would assess the situation again, hopefully with the completed blade in hand.