Adamar would have blended into the darkness outside the campfire if the light of the flames didn't reflect off his mask. He sat a bit away from the rest of the group, still in conversationally appropriate proximity, but far enough that none would see the contents of his now open book. He slowly turned a page every few minutes as the worn parchment bound in leather rested upon his lap. His head was angled down towards the pages, an onlooker would easily assume him to be reading through the slits in the mask. He made no indications of paying attention to Siana's life-story, but was softly murmuring to himself with seemingly unintelligible words as she described her memories and plans to the group.