Where there's a will, there's a way

The Ravenous beast had been felled, the crisis averted. By all accounts, that should have meant a swift return to normalcy for the residents of Namarast, but after the recent news of yet another gargantuan monster having made appearance had reached Mead and its surrounding area, there had been no end to the steady stream of people that now sought safety from the Tower city and its walls, fearing further monster attacks. 

Vilas scoffed - Namarast was hardly a bastion for anyone, but that seemed to matter little to the many farmers, merchants, and the few odd travelers here and there who had come to occupy its cobbled streets for the time being. The air was heavy with anticipation, laced with both fear and thinly veiled distrust towards the denizens despite the Order's victory over the monstrous pig, but that was only to be expected.

Hagia's fate wouldn't be easily erased from the shared memory, and Vilas couldn't claim he felt all too different himself, being surrounded by his ilk like this again after spending weeks on the road, blissfully unburdened by his usual responsibilities, and the loose noose that was his double life. All mages were a catastrophe waiting to happen, after all. 

Donning his Witchfinder garb, the gloomy mage made his way towards the stables to check on Ira, the stout little mare that had carried him to safety after his near encounter with the rotting monster. Agathias wouldn't need him for a few more hours, and Vilas felt far too restless to sit still, his thoughts but a jumbled mess from the night he had spent hiding from the beast with Mordreaux and his partner, Lugh. If he had been wise, he would’ve cut things off right then and there when Mord had admitted to being a mage, but how could he bear to? He couldn’t deny the fear that revelation had elicited, but it had little to do with the man himself, and everything to do with his reason to hurry back to Namarast once the danger had passed.

He didn’t want to lose another lover to magic, to stare at yet another vacant face at the sickbay, left wondering why he had been in such a rush in the first place. It was as simple as that, but for now all Vilas could do was try and believe in Mordreaux, and the man’s promise if not to fix the past, then prevent it from repeating itself by staying safe. 

As Vilas was about to enter the building, something caught his attention. Across the street stood a cloaked figure, their head turned towards him. It was only a brief glance, and the stranger was on their way, but something about their mannerisms called to him like a pyre in the night. Discreetly he slipped into the crowd, keen to see what the stranger had on their mind. People that didn’t want to be seen rarely were as invisible as they thought they were.