Day 13

It was on the greyest day of their journey, on which Wilmore happened to recover. And the coldest. And rainiest. As appropriate as the weather suited his personality though, in all likelihood what played the most prevalent role in his recovery was on that day the ship landed on the coast of the Clover Peninsula, by the port town of Farnescape two miles away from Lagarell.
Wilmore did not recover the very moment he set foot on dry land, but by the time they had reached the carriage awaiting them at the town's gate, he was already back to his old, dry, stoic self; and his companions couldn't tell at which point the transition had occurred.

The rain suited the town well. From its long stretches of wrought iron fences, to its unseasonally barren alps and willows. Even the people appeared to be almost entirely older working class men dressed in long raincoats with popped collars, donned in flat caps and the kind of raincap that was all brim, their bodies hooked and crooked by harsh experience.

The black attire worn by Wilmore rendered him a silhouette of himself, and molded that silhouette into that of a gentleman, towering over his company due to his tophat. The outwards tapering at the tail of the overcoat, which was closed up to the middle of the neck, simulated the billowing which the rigidity imposed by its thickness prohibited.
The vibrant blue of his hair contrasted against his dark outfit. It barely reached halfway down his neck, yet for a man he would be considered fairly long-haired. The dark, unfolded umbrella held in his hand rested against his shoulder and protected him from the onslaught of the grim rain. His other hand lunged around a quite significant suitcase locked up with all manners of straps.
"I must say," Wilmore started as he folded his umbrella, hung it on the hook from his arm and pushed his briefcase on to the luggage compartment in the back, "Such inconvenience really should be intolerable. To think we would be required to skip lunch in order to get with our carriage, when I am as farnished as I am now."
"We arrived in good time, Wilmore." Sarah tossed her slim briefcase into the luggage, "The reason you are farnished is because you hardly ate anything on the ship. Now would you mind telling us what exactly happened back there?"
"Look, I will be the first to admit that I am not good with sailing." Wilmore replied as he flexed his umbrella back to its fulls span, "I clearly was not born to do such things. Nothing strange there at all. Rather, I do consider it conspicious how you would have it as some kind of attraction."

Leo appeared not to mind the rain, as he wore no hat. One would think the downpour would be enough to flatten his gravity-defying fuzzy hair, but its frizzyness stood firm. If anything, it only made it even messier somehow, as parts of his hair had gathered in clumps. Unlike Sarah's hair, who turned a brownish dark as it became damper, Leo's hair only became redder the wetter it got.
Leo tugs at his oversized suitcase, reaching well over his waist. Normally he would run the bag on wheels, but as one of the wheels got broken on the cobblestone he was made to drag the bag the rest of the way. As it turns out, this exercise became one of considerable exertion for the poor insurance clerk.
"It becomes a concern, Wilmore." Sarah squeezed the water out of her ponytail like a sponge, "It becomes a concern because I have to worry that something like this will happen on every turn. So if there is anything else that makes you behave in a way that could compromise this mission, now would be the time to tell us."
"Just one thing," Wilmore said, "I will become rather uncooperative and ineffective if a meal is skipped. Believe it or not, I do need to eat like everyone else."

Leo propped his bag up and shoved it upwards, with great efforts hoisting it on to the top of the wagon. He managed to push the suitcase over the ledge of the roof, yet it wobbled on an awkward angle just waiting to topple down once again. He stood on his toes in order to gain just a little more leverage in order to slide the bag into place. Yet it was precisely because of this he lost his grip, and the bag slid back down towards the poor man.

The icey blue eyes of the monster slayer locked on to this chain of events, and with lightning reflexes she spoke two words:
"Evorhe k'an."
Sarah vanished from where she stood, replaced by a speedy blur that swept into Leo's space and pulled him out of the way before the bag crashed into the ground. There she was with Leo, him wrapped up in the monster slayer's arm.
"Are you unharmed?" Sarah's voice was particularly shrill at that moment, but regained its pitch as she spoke, "Looks like you almost ended up in a dire situation there."
Leo looked up at Sarah astonished, then smiled, "...Time?"
Wilmore picked up his watch from his pocket, but before he could indulge what it said, Sarah cleared her throat.
"...I... Ugh... Indeed. You got it."
Leo giggled like a schoolgirl, "You're a time mage! That's your specialty! Chronomancy! Wow! What an incredible talent!"