Darevod
Transmuter, 8th Level

As they enter the room Darevod scans around, his eyes finally settling on a reddish tunic with assorted plates and straps attached. With outstretched hands he rushes forward, "Hello, friends! I didn't even know I missed you." Before dressing, the blue man digs through his pack setting things aside and taking inventory of what's left. The bag seems to hold an impossible number of things... He kisses each of a pair of polished stones, gently placing them atop his clothes. When he finds a large tome he squeals and holds it to his chest with a sigh. Only then does he dress himself.

His things packed haphazardly again, Darevod, seemingly far more at peace now, strolls over to Dawn-Fang with an expectant "Hmm?" The papers in hand, the Vedalken scans through the images and text. "'Ghirapur' here by me... central city. The grand jewel of Kaladesh," he says with a bit of disdain. "Used to live there. Then a hole. Then not even a hole. Consulate spies on everyone, secret takers on every street - not surprised they have a list of me, though none of you have the inventor's talent. Maybe that one," he motions with a nod of the head to Radek. "Not sure why they'd care about the others."

He wasn't much of an astronomer, more focused on the physical sciences, but he inspects the circles pondering some kind of creative design amid the chaos - a blueprint maybe? Satisfied, or perhaps not, with the papers he hands them back to Dawn-Fang and narrows his eyes looking the creature over inquisitively. "Not man... not machine... too furry for automaton. So you lifecraft or what?"