[Ci'aran Leonard]

Time Stamp: 14th Brightening of Cryaxtum, Era XIV Post Fractum

It had been a much longer day than Ci’aran had realized. Truthfully, it had been a much longer –week- than Ci’aran had realized. Bundling up much warmer than usual he cast a long sour look at the mirror in the washing room, sighing rather sadly at his haphazard appearance. Where there used to be the clean shave of an adolescent face, the unruly tumble of mahogany hair and the sharp discernment of cerulean blue eyes, now stood a much haughtier appearance.

His chin for example, had stubble, evidence of his lack of shaving… his hair though still unruly, was rather matted on one side as dark circles foreshadowed his eyes. When was the last time he had a good night’s sleep? He could not remember.

Dragging himself to his room, Ci’aran yawned loudly, stretching his arms as he flopped unceremoniously on his chair facing the window. It was not a view to be proud of; outside there was no decoration save for the practice field, empty in the early morning with the exception of the occasional sparrow that landed on the affixed equipment.

As much as he wanted to sleep he could not. Not after that event in Malvoix. The few listless hours of sleep that he could salvage for the capricious embrace of Night was interrupted by his own fears, tensions enhanced by nightmares and a strangled gasp.

“I have to get up.” Ci’aran groaned loudly, verbally wishing he could just crawl under a rock as he stood up, his muscles creaking slowly as he opened his foot locker, pulling out his usually traditional uniform. He was not going to need that today. Taking out another set of clothing, this time a more a formal attire; a black buttoned frockcoat with oversized lapels and a clean white shirt sporting a dark black tie, Ci’aran looked blankly at it before setting that aside as well. He was not going to need that until later.

Digging deeper into his locker Ci’aran gave a small grunt as he tore out his regular civilians clothes, donning his pants and shirt and casually wrapping his Le Protectorat Du Paix cloak around himself as he scanned his surroundings. Although the Everwinter in Jaedaxia had long faded, Ci’aran could not help but feel a small chill clandestinely serenade his soul as he headed for the door.

The memories of Malvoix it seemed proved too morbid for his thoughts.

He needed to get something to drink, shave perhaps, and meet Iseult at the townsquare before he began the second part of his mission.

Perhaps it’ll lay his memories to rest.