Septimus sat on a rooftop in Elendel, mistcloak fluttering serenely in the cool night wind. It looked out of place in the modern city, a fairytale of old, and there was a certain appeal that came with that. Despite being old fashioned Septimus had done a little upgrading. He picked up the long deadly looking rifle. It had cost money and time to acquire, the white body gleaming in the moonlight. Interlacing networks of fabrials and other enhancements webbed around the guns exterior. Septimus peered through the lens, adjusting it to the proper focus. He spun a bullet between his fingers, aluminum of course, though the true force of the weapon came from regular bullets. He slung gun onto his back and lept down from the roof.
Septimus sat on the train to the roughs, doddering with a spanreed. It looked like fiddling anyway, in reality he sent a message to Soul. I’m coming soon, find me.