Isola has been an exhausting experience.
Even fueled as he was with the one gift the isle blessed him with - a way to manage his condition without him constantly having to monitor it - he was still constantly fielding attacks upon his character and person. It was as though he were back on the Boiling Isles hundreds of years ago, tormented by the wicked cruelty of its denizens.
It was a pleasant, cloudy day, though Belos was hardly able to enjoy it. Still, it was (marginally) better than being cooped up within the apartment he was to call home. Once unafraid to parade through the streets, he kept to the sides of the alleyways, avoiding drawing any attention to himself. His memory was still fuzzy, unable to recall the extent of his success, only that he was so, so close to the Day of Unity.
Any glimmer of hope he had for seeking a friendly, or, more preferably, loyal face was all but extinguished.
He found himself drifting towards the enticing sights and smells of the Star Trail. Though most of the shops were stocked with unfamiliar cuisine, one caught his attention in a knot of heart-wrenching nostalgia - a tavern styled not unlike those he recalled fuzzily from his childhood. The menu was promising, as he actually recognized nearly every single item upon it - stews, pies, meats, and root vegetables. He stepped in cautiously at first, ensuring there were no familiar faces, before taking a seat at an unoccupied end of a long table.
