74th of Winter, 516 AV
Madeira answered his questions, and Hurik nodded to himself. His mists swirled lazily about his amulet and he could tell from the dimming of colour in the sky that the lights were going out one by one. And yet, people were coming out and lighting lanterns which made the street glow just as brilliantly as the setting sun had.
"There's not much to know. You've got my name, and pretty much anything else I could tell you, you've been present to witness. Really, it's you who has the knowledge here, seeing as you've probably dealt with people like me plenty."
Hurik felt a pique of curiosity, and he pulled at it. "So what exactly do you do, Miss Grown Woman? Or do they pay you to talk to misty men such as myself on nice evenings?"
While he waited for an answer, Hurik felt his mists tangling painfully. It was as if his chest were caught in a doorway and he was being pressed into the doorframe. He moved forward past Madeira and felt the sensation lessen. It seemed as though he should move, or at least that was what his instincts were saying. A deep part of him, ingrained maybe even since he was still young and full of life, was urging him onward. He turned back toward Madeira, and shrugged half-heartedly.
"I think that my mists have gathered, pale beauty. Where shall we meet again, and when? I have some..." Hurik chuckled, "Soul-searching to do tonight."