With lumbering steps, Gaelen waded through the lows of the swamped road leading into the hamlet. His only salvation from the incessant downpour had been the thick wool cloak he acquired from one of the seemingly countless local sheep herders, though in hindsight, perhaps his expeditionary allowance would also have been well spent on a more generous cab fare. A stroll through inclement weather certainly has its charms, but he found it much better enjoyed from within the warmth of a hearthlit study. That said, his newly obtained tartan garment did an admirable job of keeping him and his cawing companion somewhat comfortable and dry, waterlogged boots notwithstanding.<span style="font-style: italic">Besides</span>, he figured,<span style="font-style: italic">all I need now is a smoking pipe and a dastardly nemesis, and perhaps I’ll finally have a decent get-up for parties. Well, that’s assuming next year’s Halloween isn’t off the table due to world-ending circumstances.<br/></span><br/>After all he knew- or so he thought, what he was getting into. In fact, he had been ecstatic to be granted a new Verbintenis assignment. No sooner had he carefully unsealed the Oxford Chapter’s message than his luggage was assembled and Alice’s cage dusted off. The magpie too, appeared to be excited to begin journeying again, and seemed endlessly willing to entertain Gaelen’s eschatological ramblings during their travels to the north. The nature of the upcoming Goëtian cataclysm was still quite the pressing mystery after all, though his rainy journey to Callanish certainly appealed to the possibility of a biblical flooding.<br/><br/>Sauntering onwards, he captured the gaze of a curious villager looking on from behind streaming windows. He smiled back apologetically, only to be met with a raised eyebrow and a closing curtain. Gaelen realised he must be making quite the silly silhouette, keeping the cage and his luggage under his hooded cloak as he did, and traversing the flooded road like a particularly boorish stork. At least Alice certainly seemed to enjoy the scene, judging by her amused chattering. Gaelen wasn’t about to let her soar free here quite yet though. Considering the possibility that the local megalith truly was placed at a major crossroads of Ley lines, she wouldn’t necessarily fare very well here. That’s to say, still better than most of her kind. Alice had the distinction of being a survivor of a particularly nasty EM disturbance in the Vale of White Horse, and was serendipitously found by a Verbintenis initiate, who consequently brought her to be studied at Gaelen’s college. Gaelen quickly discovered the corvid’s increased resistance to similar effects and took the creature in his care, fostering both a genuine friendship and a unique working relationship, as Alice proved adept in performing the role of living dowsing rod.<br/><br/>Meanwhile, the torrential storm only began to worsen as the tapestry of grays overhead grew ever grimmer, aided by increasingly powerful winds that seemed insistent on guiding the pelting rain into Gaelen’s face. Before long, his round glasses became a surrealist window into the Hebridean landscape, often guiding him off the obscured path and into the marshy roadsides, quietly hissing at himself whenever he did.<br/>Soaked, slightly muddied, increasingly irate, but no less determined, Gaelen finally made out a figure near what appeared to be the chapel mentioned in the letter. It was just past what he surmised must be the local cafe going by the neon-lit shapes reflecting on his glasses.<span style="font-style: italic">They better serve early</span>, he thought,<span style="font-style: italic">and if that isn’t my contact, they better serve late too.</span>Closing his eyes, he tried to summon the enthusiasm with which he started his journey here, and approached the blur which he hoped to be his partner.<br/><br/>“Good morning!”, he exclaimed with his best semblance of a sincere smile, and released his luggage to the cobblestone path leading up the chapel before grabbing the Verbintenis seal from his waistcoat. “Or whatever passes for that on days like these, I suppose.” The lean man took off his water-stained glasses, so revealing his serpentine emerald eyes, and offered his free hand. “Gaelen Woodley; at your disposal. What say you we find someplace dry?”