Well. It was a nice enough night when he set out on this stroll - now, with the first wisps of a foreboding fog rolling in, Anders is second-guessing the wisdom in wandering an empty, dark stretch of sand by the water. But he wanted an escape from the city, sharp-edged and too-bright as it all is, and the sound of the surf had a kind of soothing, lulling appeal.

Now it feels stifling, as he makes his way back, trying to trace his own shifting footsteps in the sand. As he gives light to a tiny wisp of mana, green and glowing and only a touch brighter than that eerie fog, and tries to raise his voice over it, when he sees what he thinks - hopes - is someone crouched in the sand, up ahead.

"I'm not sure it's such a good idea to linger. We won't be able to see the ends of our own noses, in this, before long."