Fates Supports/Dwyer Ophelia
Dwyer: It's about that time for coffee, isn't it? I'll just whip some up...
Ophelia: What an opulent array of scents!
Dwyer: Hi, Ophelia. It does smell good, doesn't it? Want some? My coffee is exceptional, as you might have heard.
Ophelia: No, thank you. What my entire being needs at this moment is something far better. I need the amber libation brewed from the leaves of life itself!
Dwyer: I...I've never heard of that.
Ophelia: Tea, I mean. Tea.
Dwyer: Why didn't you say so? All that "amber libation" stuff sounds so silly. I'll be glad to brew you a cup of tea though. Wait here.
Ophelia: Wait?! But every second passes in painful increments of torture!
Dwyer: There you go, Ophelia. One cup of tea, brewed to perfection. Blow on it a bit. It's piping hot.
Ophelia: I am unafraid of the agony that comes before ecstasy, Dwyer. *slurp* Oh! Ouchie! DWYER!
Dwyer: I warned you that it was hot!
Ophelia: That's not it. It's...it's...divine! What scent IS this that tickles the inside of my nose? It feels as if a thousand petals are blowing through me on a heavenly breeze! There's no mistaking it. This is the tea of legend—the libation offered to the chosen ones!
Dwyer: Legendary tea? Well, thanks. But it's really just run-of-the-mill tea.
Ophelia: Perhaps, but in your hands, Dwyer? You've made it legendary! Which means...you might be a chosen one too, like me!
Dwyer: Really, it's just regular tea. My coffee is actually much better.
Ophelia: Dwyer! Let us rejoice in who you are and the legends you brew! And now... Let me challenge you to rise to your true potential as a legendary brewer. You are but a chosen bud. Bloom, Dwyer. BLOOM!
Dwyer: Sheesh, Ophelia. Can you take it down a notch? You're giving me a headache.
Ophelia: Salutations, Dwyer.
Dwyer: Back for another cup of tea, I see.
Ophelia: You degrade it with such a name.
Ophelia: Names must expand to encapsulate a thing's grandness.
Dwyer: I like the sound of "tea." It's short and sweet. Saves me time.
Ophelia: That word is an insult to what you are able to brew.
Dwyer: Are you about to draw me into another one of your Ophelia tirades?
Ophelia: You brew a miracle that makes all other miracles ordinary! You brew a drink of legend that rises from dry leaves like the queen of phoenixes!
Dwyer: I...I think you mean phoenixi. I hate to correct you there. Anyway, tea is tea.
Ophelia: Let us come up with a fitting name for your miracle amber brew. What do you think of...Ambrus Miraculus?
Dwyer: How about tea?
Ophelia: How about... Divinitius Aquatiqus? That sounds more like it has been poured by the gods!
Dwyer: It is poured by me.
Ophelia: Volcanicus Florambia Nectaris?
Dwyer: Volcan-what?! Now you're just being ridiculous.
Ophelia: Then why don't YOU come up with a name, Dwyer!
Ophelia: You have much to learn about imparting a chosen sound to names.
Ophelia: Fine, I guess I'll do this all by myself. Next time we meet, I will have made a binding name for your "tea." Expect much—and then more. I always deliver the extraordinary!
Dwyer: What a pain.
Ophelia: Salutations, Dwyer.
Dwyer: Oh, no. What now?
Ophelia: I would like your finest cup of Maiden's Tears.
Dwyer: I don't have that.
Ophelia: All out? Then how about something else... I'd like a cup of Fallen Stars, sweetened with a drop of Moonlight Glitter.
Dwyer: I don't have that.
Ophelia: Has anyone ever told you that you're hard to work with? Then give me a cup of Pure Sublimity brewed from water of a holy tree.
Ophelia: Oh, fine! Tea! I want tea!
Dwyer: Tea? Oh, yes. That I have.
Ophelia: Why do you have to be so stubborn?!
Dwyer: Tea is tea. No need to pad it with all your overfluffery.
Ophelia: But tea isn't in the lexicon of the chosen!
Dwyer: Tea by any other name is just as tasty, isn't it?
Ophelia: I suppose so.
Dwyer: Then don't waste my time by asking for the Floressence of Nimbus Past and Present. For example.
Ophelia: Tea—how dull.
Dwyer: Pardon? Still complaining? Then I won't make you that tea.
Ophelia: Fine! Tea is tea! I'll say it in reverse if you wish it. Tea is tea! I just want that delicious beverage only you can brew, Dwyer.
Dwyer: The honor is mine. Here you go. One cup of the hot stuff.
Ophelia: *slurpity-slurp* Ah! Even better than the last.
Dwyer: Then look forward to the next one. As they say—it always gets better with Dwyer.
Ophelia: Mmmm. I definitely will.
Ophelia: Greetings, Dwyer.
Ophelia: Why so surprised to see me? You're my one and only for tea brewing.
Dwyer: It's...it's nothing.
Ophelia: Are you quite sure about that? There's something different about you. Are you lost in an unfathomable darkness? Or a labyrinth prowled by onyx beasts?
Dwyer: Uh, what?
Ophelia: I'm trying to ask if you're troubled by something, Dwyer.
Dwyer: You really circle the point, don't you?
Ophelia: I'm glad to keep it simple if it eases your burden, Dwyer. What's wrong?
Dwyer: I...I don't know the right way to put this, Ophelia.
Ophelia: Out with it!
Dwyer: The truth is... I am bound by unbreakable chains that wrap the secret in my soul.
Ophelia: What say you?! Unbreakable chains?!
Dwyer: They bind an invisible treasure chest in which I keep my unspeakable secrets.
Ophelia: Invisible treasure chest?! Unspeakable secrets?!
Dwyer: But your approach is shaking the chains. Turning them to rust. My deepest secret is about to take wing from the dark, Ophelia. Cover your ears, or forever be changed by what I will now say... You're a goddess to me.
Ophelia: Who? Me? I am the chosen maiden, yes. But a goddess?
Dwyer: Can a mere mortal like Dwyer reach for the heavenly creature? Can even his words approach her sacred ears? The wrong utterance might chase her into the most faraway constellations.
Ophelia: Slow down, Dwyer! Your meaning eludes me!
Ophelia: Yes, yes?
Dwyer: I think you're the most radiant flower in existence—alone in a wasteland.
Ophelia: You're scaring me, Dwyer. Just state it plainly. Please!
Dwyer: All right. I love you.
Ophelia: Ugh! Too plainly.
Dwyer: I'll try somewhere in the middle then, if you prefer.
Ophelia: No need. I understand, and I'm happy to hear it.
Dwyer: Really? That I love you?
Ophelia: Yes, because I have come to think of us... as two moons in the night, caught in a spiraling dance of destiny.
Dwyer: Er, what?
Ophelia: Dwyer! I can't bring myself to be as plainspoken as you. But you must understand, right? You and I...
Dwyer: Say no more.
Ophelia: Then you realize that I too feel...
Dwyer: Why, yes. Yes, I do.