Tuujaimaa

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Ophelia

"No... you are lost to her light. Well, loves, I can see the flow of power from this beast up towards the wall and down to the alcove. It's... powering something, chained and impaled here--the illusion on the wall outside, yes, but more. Further in. I don't know how wise it is to make so irreversible a decision, when we don't know where this power is flowing yet. What do you think?" Ophelia asked, turning to face the group, though she kept the beast in enough of her periphery to be able to react suddenly. When the chains jostled she looked about the beast curiously, wondering where the movement could be coming from--was it making a conscious effort, or were there tremors in the ground, or a sudden gust? She didn't know what to expect, so remained open to every possibility.

"Life contains power; the traces of power we find most commonly are parts of things with a touch of Nightmare about them, because whatever bore them had some affinity for the energies of worlds beyond. To maintain an effect of this scope... it makes sense one would require something powerfully connected to the Nightmare, no?" Ophelia mused in response to Gerlinde's question, and again turned her gaze to the beast and addressed it, withdrawing the Holy Moonlight Sword as she did.

"Would you like me to put you out of your misery, dear? I will end your suffering if that is what you want."

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Ophelia

Ophelia almost staggered in awe at the scale of the illusion, immediately looking around the location of the illusion from past the strange threshold that they passed over. She knew it was possible, of course, to layer things beneath gossamer sheets of Nightmare to hide them from those whose eyes were insufficient... but something of this scale? She'd not suspected a thing--it was truly only Mother Moon's light and her blade's cosmic power that had availed her of the illusion... and she wondered who could possibly have created such a thing. Naira? If that was true, her grasp of things had accelerated at a rate Ophelia balked at the idea of... but they knew that long-lost Great Ones had become active suddenly, and if what Harold said was true, they were trying to beckon one into the Waking World here. Perhaps it was something to do with them? A Great One's work seemed much more likely than a mere mortal having this kind of affinity with the Arcane... though her awareness had expanded recently, and she knew that beings like herself and Gerlinde existed. One would need access to something like the Doll, or... or perhaps with enough minds' study and enough sacrifice mortals could create things like this.

"What an exceptional weaving of the Nightmare... The Witches taught me to shelter objects of importance in layers of silk-soft Nightmare, to cloud them from the eyes of the unseeing, but this is on another level. What incredible works they are capable of here... Gosh, we'll have to learn how they did this before we resort to murder. I'd love to know..." Ophelia sighed breathily, clearly most overtaken by awe of the craftsmanship of what she was observing. She followed the glimmering moon-motes next, seeing them siphoned from the bound beast along chains and up to the various other bits of architecture--a wooden beam, clearly for maintaining the illusion of the wall... and then again to the Gatehouse at the end of the alcove that they'd found themselves into.

She found herself oddly drawn to the beast, though its uncanny look of being almost-human elicited in her a strange sympathy rather than her usual antagonism towards beasts. She could imagine a person transforming into something reprehensible like Izzy had, of course, but she could also imagine its inverse: one who did not want to become a beast, and resisted it as best as they could. While she would mercilessly put down practically anything that gave into the base and savage nature of truly embraced beasthood, something that resisted... Well, to them she would offer aid. She walked towards the creature, its eyeless face shifted in her general direction, and she approached it until she was a little less than the length of the Holy Moonlight Sword away from it. She hefted the blade very gently towards the beast such that the glimmering light could illuminate its stark and sparse fur, hovering just above its snout, though held very delicately. It could not see, of course, but Ophelia did not emanate any desire to do the beast harm--she did not know if it could sense such a thing at all, but here where the Nightmare was close she thought perhaps her sympathy might be felt on a level beyond the norm.

"You with no eyes to see... I wonder, can you see them? The motes. The guidance. Can you see her, shining there in the dark?" Ophelia whispered, hoping to offer the best some semblance of the comfort she knew in the dark. Mother Moon's light was always there, playfully dancing, revealing truths and the path to glory. After the profound agony she'd felt in the Nightmare here earlier with the Dream rune... she did not want to add to that song, but weave a new one. One of understanding and illumination under the gentle embrace of the Moon, an age of light that could reveal as well as hide... and every song that had ever been made was composed of individual notes like this one. If the beast acted aggressively towards her at all she would suddenly take a very different attitude, of course, but for now it had her sympathy.

The Prophecy - Dreams of Destiny

Deo’Irah

Along their journey Deo’Irah had found it prudent to gather any high-quality sticks or other bits of foliage that they could craft a temporary body out of, aided by Lhirin and his particular eye for detail. By the time they’d reached the point where they had to be particularly careful about the noise they were making they’d gathered enough to cobble together a body that would serve well-enough to summon Kinder into, to provide them with some sort of mobile aid in the event of emergency. Of the two angels to allow communion with other beings, Kinder was definitely the correct choice–Lhirin might have remembered Weriz, from when the pair had overcome their worst fears, but probably less as a distinct personality and more as the being that had served as their tormentor. Irah remembered the occasion fairly fondly, all things considered, for it had been a religious pilgrimage in service to the god Weriz was sworn to… but still faintly shuddered to herself at the memory of that harrowing experience nevertheless. She wondered idly what Freagon’s experience with overcoming a Swaigh’s aura was like.

When Caleb asked for the name, she silently pulled her spellbook from somewhere on her person, opened it to the right page for Kinder, and passed it to him to read. They’d already assembled much of the scarecrow-like structure that would serve as the vessel for Kinder, and they’d already discussed that she’d serve as the vessel for Weriz–not many words needed to pass between them. Still, Irah looked at Caleb with some mixture of hope and disappointment (though in herself rather than him), and thought silently to herself that she was grateful for what he was doing, knowing he’d pick the gist of it up.

Almost by instinct as soon as one of her hands was free she turned her head to look behind her and find where Lhirin was, and as soon as she located him she rested her hand on some part of him–likely an arm–and gave him a slightly too-gentle squeeze. He’d have enough experience to know that she was… not nervous, but unsettled. Seeking surety and comfort in a way that he seemed uniquely suited to provide for her.

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Ophelia

"A little to the left, love, just... there!" Ophelia called out as Gerlinde missed the mark, grinning broadly as she witnessed the cane pass through the mass of sprites--they were so dense she couldn't really even see the wall. Ophelia beckoned quickly for Farren and Torquil to come through with her right hand, gripping the Evelyn in the way Farren had taught her.

"Indeed, love. I think if you stick with Dream, and I with Guidance, we'll be set! I'm glad to have earned a nickname, love, but... I can't for the life of me think of something good for 'Gerlinde'! Maybe something will come to me spontaneously..." Ophelia opined, with a look on her face that very much suggested she would struggle more deeply with coming up with a nickname than fighting every Amygdala in the area simultaneously. She then followed Gerlinde up to the section of wall, stood directly in front of it, and beckoned to Torquil and Farren behind her again so they'd find exactly the correct bit. Once she was confident they were close enough, she stepped through herself and prepared to observe her surroundings with extreme scrutiny.

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Ophelia

"Glowy ones are the priority, makes sense. We should keep our ranged weapons stocked and ready..." Ophelia spoke in reply to Gerlinde, using her free hand to check the Evelyn at her hip and feel it in her hand. The Holy Moonlight Sword could provide her with ranged attacks, too, so she was confident in her options--but this would be good to learn. She examined it closely, got used to its feel in her hand, though she didn't fire off any practice shots as they walked. She asked Farren for some pointers, too, figuring that he'd been close enough to Hunters in what he'd revealed of his past life to have some tips.

The Amygdalae were something Ophelia found terribly curious, and she found herself reaching to meet their gaze whenever they turned their heads to meet her. She tried her best not to let it affect her leading them towards where she'd seen, allowing herself only to steal glimpses where appropriate and marvel at the scale of it all.

"I suppose I've gained enough eyes to see them without the aid of Runes, now... There are so many. Whatever happened here must be of great interest to Amygdala; I wonder what they're really like, or... what they represent. I wonder if the Great Ones even align to concepts we're capable of really understanding..." Ophelia mused out loud, before her gaze came upon a section of wall practically crawling in sprites--and with none of the Great One, to boot.

"Ah, look here, loves... No Amygdala--and Mother Moon's light reveals a strong touch of Nightmare about this wall in particular. Perhaps there's an entrance here, hidden to most?"

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Ophelia

"No, dear, I never had the chance. Emissaries came from here to meet the Witches, not the other way around. I confess I had wild fantasies of following them back, sometimes, but I was never healthy enough to seriously consider the attempt. I could lead us to the place I saw here in the Memory of Stars, though, if you like? Where Naira found that poor scavenger..." Ophelia replied softly, much more relaxed and confident now that she'd returned to the Guidance rune.

"How did your new weapons feel? A far cry from when we had to fight that beastman with children's toys by comparison, I'm sure. I haven't gotten to actually use my blade yet, and... I find myself oddly eager to. Danger without the stench of fear is... oddly exhilarating, isn't it?" Ophelia mused as she led them south to where she'd seen the vision. She surveyed her surroundings with exacting detail, looking close for any of the little Guidance sprites that flitted about or anything that seemed out of place. Farren and Torquil emitted their usual amount, and Gerlinde was much more abuzz with them--which all made sense.

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Ophelia

Ophelia waited for that usual feeling of the Waking World to come back into being, like a heavy veil of unseen mist or a diaphanous sheet of silk being lifted gently away--only to find that the peaceful etherealness of the Dream was not the only mode of experience the Nightmare offered. She felt here the keening song of those whose desires had eclipsed their sense of humanity, their eagerness for insights beyond this world such that they felt it worthwhile to enact a calamity so profound its effects were still felt even now--she felt their loss and their rage, their fear and their dolour, all with a screeching overtone of an agony that could only be felt rather than understood. It did not rattle her, but surprised her deeply to transition from the closeness of her guiding moonlight's bright embrace to feeling its distance dim without the benefit of the Guidance rune... like she'd been before. It was close enough to Hemwick that it reminded her of there, and it felt in a bizzare way almost like home, but many times stronger than it had ever felt and without the kinship and warmth of her coven. She shuddered briefly, and looked around at the desolation that had been caused here at the epicentre of it all. Where she'd seen Naira utterly evaporate a scavenger and take notes on the results. Up at the Amygdala. She tilted her head curiously, bringing her right forefinger to her mouth as she observed them, and then pursed her lips as her hand returned to her side.

"So that's what they look like. Almost... insectoid? But... reminiscent of a tumour, or... or a tonsil, perhaps? Maybe even something of fungus? The beings of Nightmare must look at us with this same incredulity, this same lack of familiarity... I suppose we are to them what animals are to us? It's nice to see you for once, Amygdala." Ophelia mused, her voice that particular wavering tone that suggested she didn't know whether to laugh or cry... but it rang out clarion-clear, without any vacillation. She turned to Gerlinde, and smiled a very wan smile indeed.

"So this is how you experience the world... Does it hurt too much, to return to what it's like to be flesh and blood? Does the agony here resonate with yours? Oh, love..." Ophelia asked, eyes wide and almost sparkling from a hint of moisture. She quickly took the runebrand, visualised the Guidance rune, and pressed it to her skin. The phantom pain was something she never even flinched at, but here it seemed to resonate as though with the chimes of a bell. She still had Pallid's bell on her, she recalled, or with the Messengers perhaps, and she noted how each peal and clang's resonance had felt as it caused something dreadful within her to build. Only this time the climax was the rune taking hold, knowledge and understanding blossoming within her like a flower... and then the bliss of gentle moonlight once more, and the weak and distant light of her sword grown just as bright as it had felt in the dream.

"Ahh, that's better. I'm sorry, love, you'll have to bear the brunt of the creatures of Nightmare alone. I require the services of another rune--and between us, naught will escape our notice. Do you remember how we're supposed to... get in?"

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Ophelia

When nothing happened, Ophelia was momentarily crushed--there was no love, no sensation, no communion. In that moment she remembered the nature of the Hunger rune, about what it was that she was trying to draw out of this creature, and realised that it was not Mother Kos at all. It was just a creature that had feasted upon her essence, and that her own communion would require her own feast. That was the knowledge the Hunger rune imparted, and it disgusted her. She wanted to be free of the gnawing sensation in her mind, the odd gurgles and rumbles of her stomach that had suddenly started--or that she'd imagined--and she instinctively reached for the runebrand before realising it was still with Farren.

"Not you? I struggle to imagine Moira struggling against Skinner... But I suppose knowing how long he lived and how little of his faculties must have remained, it could be true. Perhaps we ought have interrogated him more, but... I'd written his words off as the ravings of a beast-mad fool. I shan't make that mistake in the future--every scrap of knowledge will help us." She replied to Gerlinde, taking a few seconds to ponder.

"When we head to Yahar'gul, should I use the Dream rune too? I figure that if we both have it the creatures of Nightmare won't, at least, be exclusively targeting you--but if you're the only one with it, we could use you to corral them where we want them and slaughter them. Otherwise... I feel strange without the Guidance rune, and would return to it. Wait... Gerlinde, look!" She added, before catching Farren's sudden ordeal in her periphery. She watched the strange undulations of his body, as though gripped from within by some unseen force, and rushed over to him--keeping her distance by a good two metres and urging Gerlinde to come over and observe too, still emblazoned with the Dream Rune as she was. Ophelia observed with keen interest, both out of sheer curiosity and out of concern for her friend and companion, though she kept perfectly calm even as Farren began to almost-seize, or what looked like it. She had no idea what was going on, but she wasn't worried for Farren's life, at least.

When the projection case glowed with a Rune entirely and utterly unfamiliar to Ophelia, even in terms of shape and size and other observable characteristics between the Caryll Runes she knew, her eyes widened and she turned to Gerlinde (assuming she'd followed) with a thoroughly bemused look. She pointed down at it incredulously, and got closer to try and observe Farren's face in more detail. When he called out to her she reached out her free hand and gripped his shoulder tightly.

"I'm here, love, what is it? What's happening? Are you okay?"

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Ophelia

"Skinner wanted nothing more than to live, and we put him down because he became nothing more than a rabid dog. Irreverent Izzy no longer, just his flesh inhabited by one who gave into Beasthood rather than die. But Ludwig... Ludwig was generations ago; how long did Izzy survive down there, in the Old Labyrinth, only for us to end him as the Skinner? Ah, but you have met him, I think, Gerlinde. He mentioned an immortal Hunter he couldn't kill that he found terribly tedious--I'd imagine that was you? I suppose it doesn't really matter, now, does it? He is dead, and we are not. Many more will suffer that fate, immortal as we are. Many more at Yahar'gul." Ophelia commented, looking at Gerlinde with a thoughtful expression as she spoke.

"Though I'm loathe to even embrace such a rune, there's something I feel impelled to try..." Ophelia said, requesting the runebrand and branding upon herself the Hunger rune. The phantom pain, much like Gerlinde and Victor before, did not cause her to so much as flinch--each note of discordant sensation was divine, and in that divinity there was knowledge. She listened to the sweet notes of it ring inside her mind, felt the rune take hold, and imagined for a moment what Skinner must have felt. She stepped away from the birdbath, taking at least six or seven steps back before she decided it was enough, and beckoned the Messengers forth to retrieve the Kos Parasite. She reached her hand into the bowl and gently caressed the thing within, offering it her communion. This, she reckoned, was the last chance to feel anything at all of Mother Kos. Ophelia had been immured in death for as long as she could remember; she reckoned, with all of that experience, that we all died two deaths--the first in flesh, and the second when the last being who remembered us forgot. In this way, Mother Kos was still alive--for Ophelia would nestle her love close, and beckon it forth, and let it into the deepest corners of her heart.

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Ophelia

Ophelia eagerly perused the descriptions of the items, and listened well to the soft whispers of the Holy Moonlight Sword. To have the last remnant of a Great One was no small thing--the very last vestige of a god, and the endless motherly love that it represented. Ophelia looked at the teeming and wriggling thing, and wondered if she could herself feel love for such a being--and she found in her heart a well of tenderness but not one of love. Not truly. In the moment she, too, sought solace from the recent memory of her experience--but before she could get too far in that line of inquiry they'd all gathered by the birdbath and absorbed the memory. Ophelia hadn't even considered that they could share it, and shot Gerlinde a wide smile as she suggested it, eagerly nodding along.

Once they'd finished experiencing it, Ophelia found herself blinking, and looking deep into the azure-teal glow of the Holy Moonlight Sword. So that's where you come from... Where he found you, and was raised to glory. What was it about him that made you reveal yourself to him? To me? she thought, half-asking and half-not, and stood incredulous for a moment as her senses returned to reality. Skinner... Izzy. Ophelia suddenly felt very lucky indeed that she'd stayed in that elevator, hadn't revealed the Holy Moonlight Sword to him... though a part of her wished that she'd strode up to him and showed him its true glory, of which he'd only gotten the barest taste the last time. Such a strong desire to live, and such loyalty to his friend. But... even a glimpse of glory had caused Ludwig to betray Izzy, so thoroughly that it scared her. She... as much as she wanted to profess her loyalty to her newfound companions, she knew that if any of them showed a sign of the Scourge she'd have cut them down too, impaled them upon the holy blade and brought the full weight of the cosmos down upon them. She found herself empathising with Ludwig much more than she'd expected--though she found his betrayal profoundly distasteful, she understood. Viscerally. She thought about his age of light, and wondered how different it was from the world beneath Mother Moon's gaze that she envisioned and longed for... But then she snapped herself from her reverie, trying to shake those troublesome thoughts from her mind, and turned to Farren.

"Farren, love, could you show me the Hunger rune that you got from Skinner? You must take the projection case and align it, like so," Ophelia began, miming what to do and nodding over to Gerlinde, "and bring its knowledge to the forefront of your mind's eye. Visualise every detail, every stroke, every mote of knowledge. Your mind will swell, and the rune will be made known. I could do the same for you, if you like--the whispers of the gods impart knowledge beyond mere words, and surely this will serve you well against the foes we face?"