The capability to completely disappear, even in plain sight, is not relegated only to those of dubious origins or pasts. Veshvari have been hiding in plain sight for as long as they have existed. Despite the potentially horrifying masks—bone-white with nothing but empty eye sockets and two antlers of either bone or wood protruding from either side of the forehead—that seem to be permanently attached to their faces, the Veshvari are remarkable at being seen only when they wish to be.
And Mirodan did not wish to be seen. Not in the Tavern. Not without his mask.
The door to the washroom opened, and Riordan took a few unsteady steps into the gathering room. Mirodan closed his eyes for a brief moment, then slowly reopened them. He sat in the corner of the tavern, watching all the doors and the stairs to the second floor. It was not that he was antisocial. On the contrary, for a Veshvari, Mirodan was quite social. He just did not want to be social in that moment.
No one noticed the hulking figure in the corner suddenly vanish from sight. They were focused on Riordan as he emerged, bandaged and bruised, and hobbling to a nearby chair. They were distracted by the presence of Marleigh, who swept into the gathering room from the kitchen, carrying a small tray of food and a mug of warm liquid and set it on the side table next to him. No one noticed as Marleigh turned, and time slowed down. Her skirts flared and settled over full seconds. Her hair leapt and fell in soft waves, a few strands at a time. Her lips parted in a smile that was agonizingly slow. Her eyes, however, seemed to move at lightning speed as her head crept slowly around on her neck. Those large, amber eyes fell upon Mirodan, and he knew that, of all the gathered, only she could see him.
In the moments between heartbeats, Mirodan’s eyes seemed to flash a yellow-gold colour, like the colour of a predator’s eyes when they reflect light in the darkness. In that same span, Marleigh’s eyes sparkled with the shimmer of a myriad of stars, in seeming acknowledgement of an unspoken contract between a predator and his equal. As her soft-soled shoe finally touched the wooden floor planks of the tavern, Time returned itself to speed and she was off to the kitchen again, smiling and laughing.
As Riordan sat in the chair, several of the Starbound gathered to ask questions of him, attend his needs, and just listen to whatever stories or answers he had to share. He was tired, but he knew this was an important day. These Starbound were newly born and, like all children as they learn and discover, were oceans of questions waiting to flood his beaches of wisdom.
Well.
Maybe not wisdom. Experience was probably a better way to think of things. His experience in the world. Hunting, fishing, encounters with the Veil, all of it was of earnest interest to the Starbound. Even Caellum had some questions for him regarding the Veil. He was happy to speak on what he could; however, some things just seemed out of reach of his memory. He remembered the attack. He remembered the stygian shadow that nearly sent his soul to the Void, but he could not remember how he survived it. He remembered another shadow-like creature who moved with haste and incredible speed, but what became of that shadow, he could not say. He had questions. Why was his memory so spotty? Why could he not remember his patronym? His lineage, even?
He made a mental note to talk about that with Marleigh. She seemed to know the unknowable. Though she did agree that his name was Veilwalker. He thought, of all people, she would have recalled his true name. He put a pin in that thought to mull over later.
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