The night air weighed down on his shoulders like a cloak, blackness suspended like a filter over the spectra of colour which had retreated from the northern shores along with the sun so many hours ago. Half a moon seemed to peek out at him from time to time, an uproarious cacophony of unruly silence leaving him disquiet and wound as tight as a piano string as the massive, weighty doors of the Myriad Aegis Cathedral slammed silently shut behind him. A long, quiet sigh parted his lips, a gossamer wisp of breath writ upon the velvety parchment of the umbral night. Standing beneath the eves of the cathedral, he stood as still as the shadow of a corpse, now tenuously holding his breath, his weight shifted ever so slightly forward, to the balls of his feet. He reached a slender, delicate hand into the soft inner pocket of his double-breasted longcoat, retrieving a glinting silver object tethered to some hidden inner threading via a long, narrow chain. The clouds above parted momentarily, a shaft of flirtatiously impudent half-moonlight stabbing through the darkness to illuminate the emptiness of the grey gaze so firmly set upon the gentle sharpness of his young face. The silver object in his hand glinted in the pale glow as he depressed a small dial near where the chain met the circular backing. With a click, the intricately-carved face swung open, revealing the faceted glass of a watch within. He continued to bate his breath as he locked his soft, steely eyes on the pocketwatch's second-hand, counting the last eleven seconds to himself. Finally, one last tock ushered in the eleventh hour, and within the space of a second, his exasperated sigh was totally lost by the massive surge of sound that sundered the silence about him. The Aegis Cathedral's bell tower was necessarily punctual, of course; its deep tones tolled out across northern Lightbridge like the antecedent to a nightmarish clarion heralding Armageddon itself. He could feel the vibrations deep within himself, the crystalline clarity of the carillon resonating from deep beneath his solar plexus, up through barely-audible overtones into his clavicles, and down through the bass depths of the tonal foundation, which seemed to plunge down somewhere around his lower abdomen and groin. [i][color=dodgerblue]No, that's just the damnable butterflies. Get a grip, already.[/color][/i] The sound, at this distance, was all-consuming, and could be heard fading out across the expanse of the city, eleven separate notes that resonated and reverberated into a singular tapestry of echo. As the eleventh toll faded, receding in twisted contortions upon the ebbing tide of the nearby coastline, he set out. His footsteps were light upon the sidewalk, his black trainers seeming to glide along the cement noiselessly, even though they clearly made contact with the rough-hewn, well-traveled surface. As he made his way southwards, leaving the hulking majesty of the cathedral to bask in occasional moonbeams, it was as though he were enveloped in a bubble of complete silence. A stray breeze would dance around him, skittering the leaves and detritus along the walkways, but never fluttering the lapels of his calf-length coat, or even lifting a single sandy-blonde hair from its orderly mess upon his head. He walked with an air of casual determination, his eyes downcast, thin shoulders ever so slightly relaxed within the confines of his heavy coat; his steps were quick, but not quite rushed, and he held his pocketwatch in his left hand level with his chest, just before him. To an outside observer, it might appear that he was simply glancing down at a phone or other such device in his hand. Even up close, the few pedestrians who passed seemed to find themselves glancing away from him, moving out of his way. His trek southwards towards the centre of town was an almost perfectly straight line, despite various obstacles in the forms of street signs, passers-by, and even vehicles crossing through intersections. Any time he came upon something, his quiet little bubble of personal space seemed to simply excuse that something's existence for a moment as he made his way along. [color=dodgerblue][i]I wonder if she... they... noticed me?[/i][/color] He'd given them an ample head start. The girl on the Bulwark, and the... [i]other[/i] girl on the Bulwark. His left eyebrow twitched almost imperceptibly as he recalled stumbling upon them. [color=dodgerblue][i]I'll have to be sure to repair that doorknob before the next service,[/i][/color] he thought absently. It had been a necessary break-in. He'd kept the crumbled remains of the doorknob with him, as though he actually intended to somehow put it back together. [color=dodgerblue][i]Pfft, as if you can reassemble disintegrated brass shards. Get a grip, dammit.[/i][/color] His lips parted and he heaved another soul-rending sigh. To his ears, the sound was completely normal; a bit sharp, for an intake of breath so coloured by self-directed exasperation, but otherwise just a normal, hefty sigh. The young man who passed him by as he sighed, though, heard nothing as he casually took an awkwardly large step to the right, allowing the dapper young lad in his quietness to slip by undisturbed. Probably a student at the nearby university, this particular pedestrian seemed to hesitate in his stride, glancing up from the path and turning his head as though to check behind him for some distraction. He stopped just a few degrees short of swinging around enough to actually look at the retreating back of the man he'd subconsciously stepped around, though, and simply shrugged the odd feeling off. [color=dodgerblue][i]What the hell, how did he...?[/i][/color] His thoughts were interrupted as he came upon a large intersection. Across the expanse of asphalt, bedecked in the clashing hues of street lamps and traffic lights, sat the entry proper to the University grounds. This was where he needed to turn. He pivoted on his left heel, seeming to follow his pocketwatch through the fluid gesture as his heading swiveled Eastward. He continued thus for over half an hour, his gait and demeanour unchanging, his presence completely unnoticed by anyone or anything he passed by. His was a march of ceaseless silence, an orb of not-quite-there-ness that seemed to glide through the world around it with an anti-presence. He had to make sure to avoid certain parts of town where the air was more open, and even he would stick out against the backdrop of emptiness in the night; for this reason, he made his way through countless alleys, back-yards, and side-lots, just to lower his risk of detection. He could easily talk his way out of any encounter he couldn't avoid, but he really hadn't budgeted much extra time for "pleasantries." [color=dodgerblue][i]Not like anyone has any clue what the hell is 'pleasant' about it. People suck so hard... well, except for...[/i][/color] His expressionless visage seemed, for an infinitesimal hint of a second, to shine with all the glee of the moon herself as his lips turned up in an honestly happy smile, the tail end of that last thought bringing him joyful clarity, if fleeting in brevity. As soon as the warmth of the smile flirted against the edges of his steel-grey irises, the lustre fell away and his face returned to its statuesque impassivity. He continued for another several minutes, staring now at his pocketwatch with increasing intensity. His grip tightened with every passing moment, and he seemed poised on edge even as his gait, stride, and posture remained the same. It was as though he were waiting to notice something. A moment later, as another gently breeze failed to caress his face in his little bubble of not-quite-there-ness, he [i]did[/i] notice it. A voice. A warm voice, one that forced the smile back to his face in spite of his best efforts to avoid it. He visibly relaxed, his shoulders slouching and the hand holding the pocketwatch dropping to his side. He depressed the button at its top once more, and closed his eyes. The voice was clearer now, though it spoke no words. It was more the essence of the voice he knew so well, babbling nonsensically on the periphery of his senses. He was used to this sensation; it was a sign that He was nearby. He must have been heading North this whole time, making the trip to rendezvous shorter for the both of them. Suddenly, his eyes flew open and he sprinted off on a tangent to his original path. The voice was crystal clear now, though still carried no words. He'd have to initiate contact to change that. Squeezing his pocketwatch relentlessly, he rounded a corner and stopped suddenly, peering down an alleyway. [color=dodgerblue][/color] He called out, the words seeming for all the world to die on his lips. No one in the area would be able to hear a thing he said in this particular manner - aside from his intended contact. For the one person in Lightbridge who could hear it though, his voice was light, yet full; a brilliant tenor, indicative of one well-trained in the vocal arts; the kind of warm, pleasant voice that seemed to always toe the line between speech and song. More importantly, it wasn't a voice that was heard by ears; it was a voice that would seem to spring up out of nowhere inside the listener's own mind - which, considering it held an almost-posh, almost-northern British accent, could be rather disconcerting to some. He schooled his face into a slightly less obvious grin, one with a little less teeth and a much more excusable mirth. [color=dodgerblue][/color] His eyes found the familiar frame of the one he'd been seeking, a quiet young man who was just minding his own business, talking to his shadow and the like. He was coming up behind him, and until contact was made, even this chosen person wouldn't be able to discern his approach; for this reason, he made sure to do everything he could to avoid startling the young man. As he came within a few feet of him, he took a slightly awkward, wide step - taking utmost care not to to trod upon the young man's shadow. Finally, he came up just behind the quiet young man's left shoulder, and reached out with his free right hand. Gently, slowly, with all the weight of a butterfly alighting upon a twig, he brushed his knuckles against the crest of the young man's shoulder, giving him the first indication of his presence. As soon as physical contact was made, even through this tiniest of gestures, the quiet young man he'd been seeking was suddenly brought into awareness of his presence. That much accomplished, he draped his arm across the other's shoulders, clapping his right upper arm in a most familiar way, and giving a light squeeze. Turning to meet his quiet friend's eyes, the dapper young lad flashed him a proper grin and tipped his chin in greeting, his silver eyes now making a go at outshining the moon. [color=dodgerblue]"Oi, lad! How the hell are you doin' then?"[/color] He asked, his actual speaking voice audible only to the two of them, and identical to the voice he'd used to communicate upon approach. [color=dodgerblue]"Got some good news for me, I hope?"[/color]