Ed'wari stepped softly through the garden as he approached the meeting point this "Zu" had provided to him. He had taken the time to ponder his situation whilst idly admiring the scenery and occupying himself with the messages the young mon'keigh arten sent him through the little device he had found. "Incredibly handy." he thought as he observed the little zips of messages back and forth, "Far superior to Imperial technology."
The quiet here was glorious, by comparison to Arkangel, the station was practically a tomb. Above all though, the distinct lack of the smell was king, a detail that Ed'wari revelled in a few times, filling his lungs with "fresh" air.
Perhaps he was dead. That would come as a small surprise to him, considering his last memory was one of those fine meals with his ward. The cresistauead had no reason to murder him, so perhaps it was a warp born portent of some description. Either way, he was open to the experience. The Ynnead itself could have sent him here. This was just another step on the path.
By instinct rather than habit his footsteps were silent as the grave as he approached. The Drukhari had a way of walking, something that you picked up only if you had grown up in the Dark City, a way of moving about that shifted the weight and killed noise. An essential skill in a city of spies and murderers...
"Greetings." he began, at a safe distance from the young woman.
Ed'wari was dressed in his usual simple attire; a set of long, flowing, hooded white robes, forearms wrapped in a white fabric. About his waist, a crimson and purple sash was held under a simple leather belt which sported a few pouches and two leather dagger holsters, each filled with a small curved blade with ringed handles. These looked more like surgery tools than weapons.
He affected a slight bow, so slight it was almost imperceptible in it's motion.