...
At the first light of dawn, everyone had awoken.
Moulin was standing silently. Elegantly garbed in his sentinel uniform, the cape draped down his back, ending slightly above the ankle. His suit hugged his body in the right places. His satchel rested a bit below the right side of his waist as the strap laid across his chest, slung over his left shoulder. A hand on the hilt of his sword that hung on his belt.
The youth stood elegantly as he watched the elves chant a strange incantation in their elven tongue. Fingers, weaving something in the air as the empty tents floated and folded themselves. Tucking themselves into a bag that could be carried. The strange magic never failed to impress Moulin.
Every person appeared to be busy. Even the silver-eyed people could not help but be indebted too much, deciding to help carry a couple of baggage.
"Ao?"