There are some things in life that some truly wish they could live without; but these luxeries were not permitted in the dealings that happened within one such woman's life. 

The drops pelted the closed window of her room; a soft groan escaping cracked, parted lips. She had been confined to her room by her King, her outbreak against Vel had been too much  to bear without a place to flee to, the snake had assaulted her deepest emotion with it's hissing and motions. Having been dubbed treasonous in means of loyalty to the kingdom she had served since the ripe age of fourteen, Ophelia had lashed out against the poison type; her actions breaking quite a bit of furniture. 

Her eyes had shined brightly during those thirty minutes of hell, her rage having ancored her sanity to the bottom of her senses quickly, much faster than any other time. That thought shook the knight to the very core, shoulders hunching as she thought back to the only drive pushing her over the edge. 'Kill the heretic! Strangle it with your own two hands!' 

Snapping purple eyes closed, Ophelia let out a withheld breath, fingers clenching into a fist. It was the first time she had been so viciously seeking her partner's death, and with her bare hands! Throat constricting, Ophelia abruptly stood, the window being thrown open to allow the chilled air into her room. Strands of red hair whipped behind her shoulders, her eyes taking in the tears from the heavens. "What is wrong with me...?" she murmured, hands finding their place on the sill of the window, gently grasping it in anxeity. 

Her mind drifted back to the words from Luscious, his tone was rather hurtful for the woman, "Due to your actions against furniture and the other knights who attempted to subdue you, you are confined to your room. Ophelia, I am also restricting you from leaving the palace." 

Visibiliy wincing, the knight clutched onto the sill tighter, the wood groaning under her grip. 

She needed to get out of the stifling palace, to breathe the fresh air that was filling her room, mixing with the stagnate taste of the castle. Her eyes moved to rest on the armor nestled snugly on the rack standing beside her dresser, her thoughts stumbling as she tried to piece together a plan of escape. If she wore her armor, she was surely to be recognized. Gaze moving to rest on the horizon, Ophelia sighed heavily, understanding the attire she were to wear.