[While those on the beach mill about trying to find people they recognise or make their way to the sloping path leading up the cliffs, and as they shuffle towards carriages to be transported to Camelot, a white-robed male sits on the edge of the cliffs overlooking the beach, his bare feet hanging over the edge and a tall brass helm sitting in the sandy grass beside him.

He hasn't moved for hours. Not since he first walked up the cliff. He took a seat there, watching the sea, and showed little interest in what was going on around him or in interacting with anyone.

Some might recognise him as a dark elf. His grey skin, red eyes and pointed ears give that much away. Some - fewer - may be able to narrow it down further. This is a dunmer, albeit an incredibly tall one. Even seated it's obvious he reaches almost seven feet when he's standing.

His red eyes watch the horizon, the wind off the water ruffles his white hair, tangling it about his shoulders. Sotha Sil thinks, considers, worries, with what appears to be no concern at all for anything going on around him. Not even when the carriage begin to leave.]