[i]… It is urgent.[/i]

That phrase always sparked tension and anxiety, but this time Ophelia’s mind lurched with serendipity and deja vu. The exact weight on her shoulder, a casual brush, the way that envelope slid neatly underneath the leather hardbound book. The Vigil wax seal still smelled faintly of strawberry-scented candle and burned metal, freshly written and delivered. She nodded when the Vigil member left, hands shakily adjusting the envelope to hide it further under the book like it could shield her from responsibility.

A weak smile. Wry and twitchy. Nobody would mind if she didn’t immediately read it, right? Right…

“Mama moose!” Ophelia stammered, fingers twitching whilst they fidgeted with a nervous crease on the page she had now read for the seventh time in a row. “I didn’t see you there,” Ophelia said timidly, turning away from the book for a moment to watch the old hunter sit down with the resignation of several retirees. “Good morning.” Her voice was softer than intended.

Silence wrapped awkwardly when the younger woman kept glancing at the envelope like it was capable of more than a papercut and a heavy set of orders. She swallowed nervously, plucking at the hardened wax with perfectly cut nails. “... I was going to open it.” She sighed. “Eventually.”

The muscles around Ophelia’s shoulders tensed slightly, lifting them as though the woman was expecting that familiar reprimand about responsibilities of a Vigil huntress; though defiance was more out of anxiety than actually hating the prospect of an assignment dragging her from safe monastery walls. She grimaced, lips twitching like she’d craved Naomi’s understanding. She kept staring at the seal, half-afraid she already knew where it would send her.