Essence has been around for almost the start of mankind itself, it's been waiting and watching - Aiding those who need it.
It is powerful, and useful; but dangerous when used incorrectly.

What Humans believed to be Heaven and Hell, were simply just the Ether and the Void - Respectively; and the connection of those two lands, is where Essence is formed, crafted, created.
The Essence was the balance between the two, and soon enough, humans were also able to harness and manipulate it for themselves.

So the Essence created a Protector; someone who gave the Gift out less freely than it was originally intended - As a counter measure to keep things balanced.
Humans, of course, didn't truly understand what they were dealing with; they came up with rituals to bring forth the protector to bargain and gain the gift in different ways.

But now the system is unbalanced - Humans have gotten too rash with the gift, they have taken it and twisted it to something almost unimaginable - There are Humans who fight against others, maybe the Essence would be able to help the side that is trying to help.

---

Ophelia's dreams would slowly twist away from what she would normally have had, she found herself in a dusty, musty, underground area - Carved in dark grey stone with only candles to light the area.

There was a large circle carved into the ground, stained with the blood strewn to call forth the Beast of the Void.
A large man, cloaked in black robes with red trim, stepped up to the plinth on a raised platform, overlooking the large amount of Cultists.

Ophelia would find herself amongst those looking up to the man, she could feel the buzz of confusion, worry, and excitement.
"Hail, Cultists of the Void!" He called out, lifting his arms up as the crowd fell to silence. [b][u]"We are gathered here today for a glorious purpose! As you know, there has been a lull in pledging of Gifts - Our numbers have run low, we are running out of those who we can offer for the Essence."[/b][/u]

The crowd erupted into whispers, it was true; they were running out of people to give up to the Void. In this town and several towns around them; They were getting despite.

"However, we have been blessed!" The man said, shifting as another Cultist brought out a small girl in a white dress - No only than the age of ten. "We have someone to offer to the Mother Beast!" At the name, the circle glimmered as the shadows slowly twisted around the room.
Ichor was here, and she was watching. She wasn't too happy with what she was seeing, were they going to try and sacrifice such a young person to her?

As the cultist brought down the girl towards the circle, the shadows shifted more, grabbing the young ones hand and pulling her back slightly.
"Oh Motherbeast!" The leader called out, "Please accept our humble offering and bless us with your presence, for we may bask in your glory!"

The shadows started to condense in the circle as a large beast pulled from almost nowhere, stretching up towards the ceiling with a roar that had no sound.
"You DARE offer a child?" Ichor roared, her voice shaking the walls. "You think I will give you the gift of Essence by offering a CHILD?!" She pulled her head toward to loom over the leader with a snarl, "You are disgusting, I am losing my patience; and you do not wish to anger me further!"

Ophelia's dream started to waver at this point; the shadows grew darker around her, as if she was being pulled away gently.

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 actually 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.

Naomi had spotted the young Hunter leave her room with a look to her she had seen only a few times, giving a small shake of her head as she headed down the hall behind Ophelia in silence.
Her sleep was... Not the best; nightmares, memories - All things she was used to by now, but they were getting stronger, it seemed.

And that look Ophelia had in her eyes, that was one she knew from her own.

She moved off to the line for food as she focused on getting herself some food before being stopped by one of the Pastors.
"Hail, Sister Moose." The Father said as he offered a smile to the taller woman, "I hope you have slept well." He said with a bow of his head, moving to offer a small envelope into her hands gently. "When you are free to read, come to me afterwards." He urged gently. "We may have a mission for you."

The Father simply bowed his head before he walked off, leaving Naomi on her own for a second before she breathed through her nose slowly.
'Course. She hissed mentally, tucking the letter away in her pockets before she shifted to walk towards where Ophelia was sitting.
Naomi hesitated for a moment as another Vigil member stopped briefly beside her, placing a hand gently on her shoulder and placing a similarly stamped envelope beside her book.
"It is urgent, sister." They said before moving off quickly, allowing Naomi to shift and sit across from Ophelia.

The Older Ex-Hunter didn't speak to start with, moving to start eating her own meal.

… It is urgent.

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.

Naomi only offered a smile to Ophelia as she stammered, "Good morning Ophelia, my apologies for spooking you." She said calmly, bowing her head. "I wouldn't scold you if you wished to wait until after you have eaten, you know." She gave a small chuckle.
"If it eases your worry," She spoke again, shifting a hand off the table and into her pocket.

She slowly lifted her own unopened letter up to the table - The same wax seal, the same scent of candle.
[b]"It seems we have both been called upon, no?"[b] She offered a warm smile as she moved to start to eat again. She stayed quiet once again, should she ask about her sleep? Should she mention she knew the look she had all too well?

"You've been having dreams lately, no?" Naomi found herself saying, it was almost casual - Hopefully that wouldn't spook the young Huntress. "I do not wish to pry, especially if you do not wish to tell. But I saw you walking earlier; I know the look in your eye all too well."
Her eyes skated the room quietly, picking up on where the nearest higher council members were; who was and wasn't in ear-shot. She knew she could take this conversation away from the mess hall if they needed to.

Ophelia did not answer straight away.

Her fingers kept worrying at the edge of the envelope, nail catching lightly against the hardened wax before slipping off again. She looked at Naomi’s letter, then her face, then down to her own breakfast as though the eggs might offer some miracle excuse not to continue. The silence stretched just a little too long to be natural.

“A few,” she said at last, voice small. Barely a whisper. “Dreams.”

Even then, the word seemed insufficient. Her mouth pressed thin. She adjusted her glasses though they did not need adjusting, buying herself another heartbeat or two. “Or not dreams, maybe. I do not know.” A weak, fleeting huff of breath left her nose. “That sounds ridiculous.”

Her shoulders drew in slightly, the instinctive shape of someone protecting something fragile before she was even sure she wanted it touched.

“It was only… strange.” Ophelia’s thumb flattened over the seal. “Too vivid.” She swallowed. “I was somewhere underground, I think. Stone walls. Candles. It smelled wrong.”

Her brow pinched, gaze unfocusing briefly as she tried to catch hold of details that seemed to wriggle the moment she reached for them. “There were people there. Waiting for something.” She paused, then corrected herself in a quieter voice. “No. Not something.”

That alone seemed to unsettle her enough that she glanced aside, toward the hall, toward safer and duller things. The scrape of benches. Murmured prayer. The clink of utensils against bowls.

“They called it a blessing,” she muttered, though her expression suggested she thought the word vile. “Or a gift. I do not know. They were going to…” Her voice caught. She looked down hard at the table. “There was a child.”

Her hand stilled.

For a moment, all the nervous little motions stopped entirely, and what remained beneath them was plain: not just fear, but revulsion.

“And then there was this… creature. Beast. I never saw it properly, not all of it, only enough to know I did not want to.” Another pause. “It was angry.”

Her brows knit, uncertain, as though she still did not trust her own memory of it. “I could feel it, I think. The anger. Like it was mine for a moment, or I was standing too close to it.” She rubbed at her wrist with her free hand.

“I woke up shaking.”

Her gaze flicked toward the envelope again.

“And then this.” The words were barely above a murmur. “With that ridiculous feeling that I had already seen it happen before it did.” Ophelia tried for a smile and failed halfway through, the expression turning thin and embarrassed. “I know how that sounds.”

She hesitated again, clearly resisting the urge to retreat from the subject entirely now that she had said this much. Naomi’s presence kept her there. Not because Ophelia was fully at ease, but because some part of her wanted to be.

“I did not want to say anything if it was only a foolish nightmare,” she admitted. “And I still do not know that it is not.” Her fingers tightened around the letter. “But it does not feel like nothing.”

She glanced up through her lashes, wary and uncertain in that particular way that invited comfort without ever asking for it outright.

“Have you ever had that?” she asked softly. “A dream that did not feel entirely like your own?”

Naomi waited in the silence, knowing it was not best to pry answers if she didn't want to speak - And Naomi knew to respect it.
Naomi had looked down towards her food as she waited, before Ophelia seemed to speak again. The older woman's eyes looked up towards her again, giving a small hum at her words.

She didn't speak the entire time as Ophelia explained things, Naomi resisted her urge to reach out for the other woman's hand for now.
"Admittedly." Naomi spoke, once she was finally asked a question, she straightened up a bit as she looked around - There was a glimmer of untrust, almost worry in her own eyes, before she leaned back in a little. "I have. It hasn't been for a few years; but I believe I've had something similar."

Of course she had. All those years ago - losing her beloved and losing her role as a 'Hunter'; that one horrible day that made everything much, much worse for her life.
"I don't think it would be a nightmare." Naomi spoke, "They always feel like it, but they're usually 'visions' or even memories, if you will." She explained, she shifted her plate forward as she crossed her arms to lean them against the table - something usually not seen from someone of her rank and seriousness.

"It's always something to keep in the back of your mind." Naomi spoke, "Especially if you're tied to the Ether itself, it's not unknown for it to reach out." Although she was not 'lucky' enough to be gifted by the Ether itself, but her beloved was - So she got to see everything first hand.

"Hopefully." Naomi started after a bit of silence, "It's a hint towards whatever these are about." She lifted her own sealed envelope.

“Thank you.” Words mouthed in silent gratitude, as if saying it out loud might shatter whatever gentleness she had received. Though her anxiety had levelled out into a neglectful buzz, at least. “That- That helps.” Or at least allowed Ophelia to reframe it as not just something she experienced. That meant she could probably learn about it, make sense of it.

The envelope sat unopened for the moment, fingers plucking at the dried wax in a half committed attempt to finally read the letter inside. The contents, Ophelia gathered, already known to her through half remembered dreams and future predictions. Her nails finally peeled the red seal away like the scab off a healed cut. The crease in the paper was neat, perfectly horizontal in that meticulous way the young woman had come to know from those who wrote them.

Ophelia’s eyes fell upon the bold words first, then properly on the details. Her brow furrowed where her mouth moved along as she read. Glasses askew with each dip and shift of her head as though the letters got smaller with each paragraph.



She’d read it again, slower this time. Allowing the details to sink in where they didn’t before. Ophelia’s eyes went wide, breath hitched as she turned back to Naomi with the realisation that she truly had to go out there and fight in the field. Or at least, leave the safety of the monastery walls for the first time since she was five years old.

“I’ve never-” The words stuck in her throat, fingers fidgeting to fold the letters as neatly as it had come. She swallowed when the letter was tucked back into the envelope. Naomi would be there, too, that was some comfort at least. Her anxiety had reared up once more. One foot tapped a rhythm underneath the worn table, and Ophelia couldn’t stop her mind from racing with everything she needed and wanted to prepare.

“Mama Moose,” She said the nickname softer than she intended, her body leaned forward. Elbows propped on the table surface. “I’m not sure what I should pack.” It wasn’t shame she felt, just uncertainty of a newbie who wanted to do her best in spite of how much she’d rather slink away into a library corner.

Naomi stayed quiet as Ophelia opened and read her letter, she gave her the privacy of reading as she looked down towards her own. There was a hesitant breath from the woman before she rolled her eyes. She had seen this coming as soon as she noticed that Ophelia got her own letter; but as it was the way of their Church, she couldn't exactly say no to going along with Ophelia.

She closed her letter before shifting to fold it horizontally, which caused the wax seal to softly pop off. Naomi gently picked it up in her fingers and admired it for a moment. "Serious work for the good wax, then." She seemed to muse out loud, before she looked up as Ophelia started to speak to her.

Naomi listened with a soft head tilt as Ophelia started to speak and promptly stopped, she gave a smile as Ophelia used her nickname - if it was anyone higher up, she'd probably be more angry than she currently was - But since it was Ophelia, she didn't really mind.

She gave a bit of a hum, looking away from the young Hunter as she seemed to look to the ceiling.
"Well, you'll need at least a weeks worth of clothing - things for missions and then civilian work, we can wash things if we're there longer than a week." She spoke slowly and calmly, hoping that it would help the woman calm down a little.

"If you have anything tied to the Ether - weapons, prayer books, effigies, necklaces - Alway's good to bring them. They might not keep you out of trouble, but they'll at least protect you from the darker side of the Void." She gave a bit of a frown, remembering how she learnt that fact - of course, not in the best way.

"Anything you need for downtime - Books, any knitting projects - simple and easy to carry, things that won't bring too much attention. I bring a sketchbook myself." She added, before her eyes moved back to the wax seal in her fingers. "Toiletries, Usually a favoured weapon if you have one. She looked back to Ophelia, tilting her head to the other side for a moment - hopefully she wasn't too overwhelming for the babe of a girl.

Ophelia nodded attentively at Naomi’s instructions and suggestions, though couldn’t help but allow the tiniest of bemused smiles to twitch at her normally thinned lips when the older woman mentioned knitting projects. “There’s this romance book I’ve been reading, I’ll bring that.” Cheeks flushed a little at the admission of reading something so sappy. The other things were eagerly remembered as well. Toiletries, assuming they’d be capable of washing at all, spare clothes.

“Right, civilians shouldn’t peg us as troublemakers.” That made sense, and it was a fact Ophelia made sure to remember like scripture. Stealth and a measured approach since common folk typically had no knowledge of the Ether and its influence beyond weird occurrences they’d often attribute to folklore or just an anomaly in their typical lives. As for weapons she could bring the Vigil’s signature weapons. Sword, hunting knife. Some salt, and of course any rituals they might need.

Or actually hoped they wouldn’t need.

The younger woman sighed, fingers flexing as if the letter had left its mark. Naomi seemed so serena, practiced despite the idea that they’d have to brave Ether-tainted grounds. The thought alone sent shivers down Ophelia’s spine before steeling herself into it.

Or pretending to, at least.

“I must gather my things. Quill and ink, too.” She paused once she stood, her hand clasping at an imaginary pendant. “For documenting. They expect an accounting of our findings. Detailed, even.” Ophelia’s head bowed evenly, only a small dip to show her honest respect to Naomi while thoughts and plans raced through her ever rattling mind.

“I will see to provisions as well.” A soft smile as she turned to leave. “Do you enjoy candied ginger, Mama Moose?” The question was innocent enough to make anyone think Ophelia was many years younger than she actually was. Practiced in theory, but green on the field. She’d essentially been given her examination properly now.

Naomi raised an eyebrow a little as she looked back to Ophelia as she spoke about a romance book, but she didn't speak about it. She wouldn't stop someone from doing what they enjoyed, as long as no one was harmed in doing so.

"Better yet, we'll not make ourselves too obvious to anyone of the Occult." She added, at the mention of not being pegged as trouble makers. While most missions she had done, she'd have been undercover; but there were a few when she was younger that she was allowed to go in, guns blazing; so to speak.

Naomi listened to her more, nodding at her mention of going off to pack her things, she was about to speak before Ophelia mentioned about provisions and candied ginger. She gave a soft smile and a small nod, "I am quite fond of candied ginger, yes." She said, she didn't make a move to stand just yet; she'd wait for Ophelia to head off before thinking of getting up.

She was excited to see what Ophelia could do in the field, even if it meant she had to teach her her style of things. Hopefully she wasn't too brainwashed into doing what the Church wanted to happen - She'd need to teach her she's allowed to occasionally break rules, as long as it saves others.