Something stirs in an unexplored (long-forgotten?) corner of his mind, rousing him enough to throw a half-hopeful glance at the small crowd. They hasten to escape the impending rain, ignoring even the grimy beggar-child slumped on a dirty corner, but he scans until his eyes land on a man in white making his way across the square. The Something twitches again, bringing with it murmurs of (his) life.

-black angel, loss, canilisten?-

Stefan blinks.

-explosions, fear, hope-

He averts his eyes to the gritty street in search of a potential victim, but the whispers grow more insistent and draw his gaze back to the man in white.

-silver eyes, deep voice, iloveyou-

The fragments beat against the confinements of Stefan's skull like moths against a lamp, fluttering with increasing urgency..

-pain, STAVEN, darkness-

They are becoming (already were, always had been) part of him, filling his head and pushing out everything else, and Stefan can only sit there, watching the man-

-iheardyou, GALACOMEBACK, i'mflying-

"Van!" His voice (not his voice, too deep, too old) is lost in another Herald's.

The man turns toward him (you always had a fine ear) with a frown dragging the corners of his mouth down, and the feeling of pride mixed with warmth that flashes through him startles (the remains of) Stefan. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, Van pivots and greets the waiting Herald with a strained half-smile that looks wrong on his delicate face. They walk away, cloaks fluttering reluctantly in the heavy air, leaving the unnoticed child half-lying on filthy ground.

Stefan pants slightly, wipes his face. Is it raining? He looks up- no, it isn't.