[ The illusion's hold on him eventually fades and Izō runs. He doesn't know where he's going, just that it's away from the nightmare he faced. Days pass, maybe weeks. He doesn't know how long it's been. He stopped counting after the first night of sleeping on the streets. His only desire is to not be found.
A worthless, starving dog turned to the streets. Unwanted surely after he'd hurt the people he cared about. He keeps his tracks hidden, staying away from his usual hangouts, running from familiar faces and even going so far as using Presence Concealment to avoid detection.
It's late enough now, though, that he's not afraid of being discovered. He's also too hungry to even think about using his abilities to hide himself away. All the money he had on him had long since been blown on gambling, an attempt to feel something other than abject misery. It gave him a different sort of abject misery, self-inflicted this time.
At least he has an answer to his hunger now, though: some trash cans behind a restaurant. The food tends to be fresher and more likely to be edible. There's no competition here, either, not even from the usual vermin. That means there's time to actually find something worth eating. His hunger is great enough that he's not actually paying much mind to his surroundings. He doesn't even notice the footsteps nearby – odd for an assassin.
It’s probably no one important anyway, not at this hour. ]
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A worthless, starving dog turned to the streets. Unwanted surely after he'd hurt the people he cared about. He keeps his tracks hidden, staying away from his usual hangouts, running from familiar faces and even going so far as using Presence Concealment to avoid detection.
It's late enough now, though, that he's not afraid of being discovered. He's also too hungry to even think about using his abilities to hide himself away. All the money he had on him had long since been blown on gambling, an attempt to feel something other than abject misery. It gave him a different sort of abject misery, self-inflicted this time.
At least he has an answer to his hunger now, though: some trash cans behind a restaurant. The food tends to be fresher and more likely to be edible. There's no competition here, either, not even from the usual vermin. That means there's time to actually find something worth eating. His hunger is great enough that he's not actually paying much mind to his surroundings. He doesn't even notice the footsteps nearby – odd for an assassin.
It’s probably no one important anyway, not at this hour. ]