🔫
Mood was generally low, the wounded were many, and the greatness of magic seemed all too incapable to deal with the physicality of the situation brought by isolation. Apprentice and master worked alike to salvage the situation, but nonetheless, it was grim. Winterhold was gone, the bridge was gone, and the College, now all alone, had definitely seen better days.
[O]ne figure stood out thanks to his more conventional attire, leaning against a broken pillar. This man, this melancholic man, nearing his middle age, and thinking of his past love far away, was Marcel Gawain.