Verin wakes up slowly somewhere comfortable. Better than his bed in Bazzoxan...

Memories swirl and shift into place, forming a picture with a few missing pieces. Not ones that obscure the overall image, though. He sits up and looks around the familiar-but-unfamiliar room, then down a the clothes he's wearing. Essek gave them to him, he remembers that. How long ago? He'd thought that a dream. And time has passed for him since then... or has he been here the whole time?

The drow fighter pushes his fingers into his hair for a moment like he could physically push everything in his mind back into place. It's unnerving and he doesn't understand the shift and pull of what he knows and what he thinks he knows. Is Essek here?

He finally gets up - if in a bed, he peeks out the door. If on a couch? He looks around to see if he's alone. He's not a tentative creature, but maybe caution is better observed.

Verin waits, quietly amused, for his mentor-guide to appear. A bot said someone would be here to show him around imminently, and that it would be best to way. He feels a bit silly with the black parasol he's been provided, but he's grateful for it on the only day with sun that he's experienced since arriving. He still has to squint somewhat, but it makes being out and about manageable.

He tips his head when someone in a rather tight uniform.

"Are you my guide?"

Clothes
While he would rather be wearing his own gear, the clothes that Essek gave him aren't wildly offensive. Tight on him, but serviceable until the bots give his things back. He's grateful for the cloud-cover, at least. Even then, he'd rather have his hood.

He's on his way to the bathhouse to see if there's any chance of rescuing the clothes he arrived in from the bots. He's still reeling and this gives him something concrete and manageable to do.

At least, it would be manageable if the clothes he's wearing didn't suddenly disappear. Verin stops and rolls his eyes skyward, head tipped back for a moment, beseeching.

"Whatever lesson is to be learned in all this, I really wish it didn't involve losing my clothes at every opportunity."

He's well-built, dark skin cut through with faint scars, and while he isn't ashamed of his nakedness, Verin would rather not feel so exposed. He rubs a hand over the back of his neck and glances at the nearest passerby.

"I don't suppose you have some article you could spare. I can at least get a towel at the bath house and I'd rather not cause a scene the entire way there."

Wall
Verin is showering when the wall disappears. He doesn't realize it at first, only feeling a strange and increasingly familiar static buzz over his skin. And then... there is that very distinct feeling of exposure. He looks over his shoulder and actually laughs when he sees the wall is entirely gone. His gaze lifts to meet that of whoever might have been standing on the other side.

"Well, it's not any worse than being in a barracks."

[Find Verin anywhere on the island, either in his own clothes or in some club gear that is too small for him. Or naked, as the case may be. Happy to have him rescue people that fall from disappearing chairs or ladders or what not! OTA for potential smut, would prefer 21+]