[center][h2][color=87CEFA]Danyl Feytin[/color][/h2][/center]
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[i]The Return[/i], as Danyl had started calling it in his mind as of yesterday, was a bit unsettling if he was being honest. Retreading old roads he hadn't seen in years brought a nauseating feeling of both nostalgia and repulsion. A mixed bag of deja vu that he did not appreciate at all. The forest that the Lying Wolverine was situated in did not alleviate the feeling. In fact he thought he even felt eyes on him.

The hairs on the back of his neck had been raised long before he'd set foot in the forest though. Whilst moving through Sarinan on his way to the tavern, Danyl had entertained the idea of specters from the past pushing at his back. Why else would he feel so uneasy about meeting with a group of friends? Or former-friends. Or whatever.

Danyl sighed and scratched the back of his head. The path to the Lying Wolverine wasn't quite as he remembered, but it was similar enough. Given that nature hadn't grown over the trail, he assumed the establishment was still there, for whatever reason. He couldn't imagine they got much business. Eventually the tavern came into view. It was much more familiar looking than the road or the town behind him. Beyond that was... 

His eye moved in the direction of the ruins, unbidden. They were but a green and gray smudge on the distant landscape, but the sight of them brought the taste of ash to Danyl's mouth. He picked up his pace.

[color=87CEFA]"Ale, please,"[/color] he said as soon as he pushed the tavern's door open, [color=87CEFA]"Black Bottom if you have it, 'else anythin's fine."[/color]

Danyl took in the barmaid, finding her face somewhat familiar though her given name completely escaped him. He did recall that the family that ran the place back then was named Tindow. Assuming this was the same Tindow girl, Danyl was sure her name would come to him at some point.

The rogue had no cloak to hang, just the pack strapped across his back and weapons stowed. And the clothes he wore, he supposed he had those too. Common traveling garb, with a sturdy pair of footwear and a simple patch over his left eye. In truth he looked like any other wanderer, especially when compared to the tavern's other patrons. Speaking of which, said patrons were all too easy to recognize - after all, how many Tabaxi and half-Tabaxi would be in this specific place, at this specific time?

He moseyed over the their table, pulling up a chair and dropping himself into the seat. The conversation seemed to be a bit solemn, though perhaps that was to be expected. 

[color=87CEFA]"Well, can't say I'm surprised to see you three,"[/color] he told the group, offering them a smile as he did. Despite the years and the scars, Danyl's smile was still the same slightly lopsided expression as always. 

After Niala and Nathaniel were swept up out of the orphanage, he'd always assumed they were alive and well somewhere out there in the world... and apparently with the means to travel too. Danyl cut a quick glance to Timber, the only one of their childhood group of friends that he'd heard from in recent times. That first letter he'd miraculously received from the Tabaxi had shaken his heart something fierce, both by the means in which it came to him and with the knowledge that his friend has survived after going it alone. Though they hadn't truly kept in touch much, needless to say he had expected to find Timber here today. There were still others he wondered about, those like Mary who'd left almost without a trace came to mind. It was still early, so perhaps they would remember that old promise and make an appearance.

[color=87CEFA]"Honestly, I didn't know how it was goin' to feel coming back here,"[/color] he said. It felt kind of awful, though that went unsaid for now. Gods above he couldn't wait to wash the phantom taste off of his tongue. [color=87CEFA]"If nothin' else I'm glad to see you all."[/color]