Ophelia’s body shot up at the familiar bong of the monastery bell, breathing a series of short gasps like she’d run the hunter gauntlet several times over.

“Bloody Hell.”

The room was a collection of smears and vague shapes, but her nerves felt the fingers buried in that silk gown trembling to the rhythm of her anxious heart. The dream she had wasn’t of typical rune diagrams or hazy, half-remembered tales old man Archibald muttered while sorting the library.

Last night’s figments felt different. Deliberate. Like she was [i]actually[/i] there, and not seeing the woven intricacies of her brain making something up while she rested.

Her black bob cut was wrecked, slick with sweat and jutting in odd places like in that one electrostatic demonstration she once volunteered for.

She felt the creature's anger and frustration, the heat still lingered as if it was her own; she convinced herself that was why she was shaking, at least.

The woman shook her head, finally swinging her legs from under the warm confines of the woolen blanket. If the dream felt vivid, it was probably because she’d exhausted herself reading the library’s cracked volume on Essence redistribution in non-sentient entities.

Her room was dark, save for the dim lamplight crawling through the open space under her door. Hands found and set the slim glasses on her nose, a single finger tracing the scar under her eye while she lit the half-dipped candle with a free hand.

Then the morning ritual started. Getting dressed. The gown was replaced with her uniform. Not the hunter garb, the plated boots and gauntlets and padded coat. No, she wore her initiate outfit instead. A skirt and blouse, faded brown, leather boots and gloves - easier than the plate when there was nothing to hunt.

After that she left her safe haven and entered the underground hallways, legs swinging along the familiar route to the mess hall of the Vigil headquarters.

Ophelia was already reading a tome about runic configurations as she dug into stale bread and some scrambled eggs. Fellow members were greeted absently, but amicably as they passed the strange woman.

She read the same paragraph three times without noticing, the haze of that dream still lingered behind her eyes.