i. Day 65 - Poe's Clothes;
[ He wakes up in dust, clothes all white, immediately recognizable from the place he and a few others had found themselves unwillingly separated in. The thoughts of mirrors and the shapes inside them are fresh in his mind when he looks around, though mulling over what it all meant is quickly pushed aside to focus on more serious matter.

The Darkling is back, but he's covered in dust. The whole places is--and, once he sits up in his bed, he immediately notices the absence of his kefta. It's what spurs him to head to Poe's Clothes for a change of wadrobe after a conversation with Alina.

The Darkling values his kefta, and not just for the status symbol it's become or because he appreciates the finer details of an aesthetic: while there had been no weapons in Matthis that he can see, the fact that his kefta was bulletproof helped him feel slightly more at ease. The security was of more comfort than anything else.

The lack of kefta speicfically is the reason why he can be found by the section of the store where all of the black coloured clothing is, still dressed in white. He's always been extremely aware that personal appearances can oftentimes be the first and only impression one gets, and so each shirt gets picked with care. If someone else enters he'll look up, frowning slightly, or occasionally glance their way out of curiosity. ]

Have you found the clothes you had on previously? During our separation.

[ He wants his damn Kefta back. ]


ii. Farmer's Market;
[ The first day it appears, the Darkling is cautious. He's lacking his kefta but he'd outright refused the white uniform, opting for black slacks and a black button-down from Poe's Clothes. At the moment he seems to be involved in a staring contest with some of the carrots: he's doubting if they're safe, and isn't too bothered if people catch him being openly wary. They should be equally suspicious, in his mind.

Alternatively, after a day filled with negative conjecture regarding produce, the Darkling will eventually help himself to some of the fresh vegetables. The bags he takes are rather heavy, filled them mostly with root vegetables as he makes his way to the house he's claimed as his own. He's fairly nimble, but there's still a chance given the volume of his haul that there may be a near collision once he turns a corner. ]


iii. Cooking;
[ The Darkling is not a chef, nor does he take particular pride in cooking. While he appreciates the finer things in life, including food, for the most part eating is viewed as a simple means of procuring energy for ones body.

While he's not a talented cook, he's at least quite capable. He's lived long enough, hid long enough, learned from Baghra long enough that he's picked up quite a variety of skills, cooking being one of them needed for survival. While he'd never admit it and he has no attachment to the cultural identity of non Grisha, Ravka is still the country he's lived in most of his life. He refuses to call it anything close to homesickness. It's a yearning for normalcy.

The windows are open, the pungent smell of cooking cabbage wafting onto the street of Phillips Drive as shchi is prepared inside. The door's open, too, as the Darkling allows the house to breathe. It's practically an invitation to any curious passersby to stop in. ]


iii. Wildcard;
[ Have an idea? Go for it! The Darkling will be seen with Alina every morning at the Grey Gull over tea. He'll also be wandering the southern part of the woods and around the farmer's market area. If you'd like a starter or want to plot, feel free to hit me up at whitespire! ]