What a night it had been. First showing up at the Elysium and meeting Isis, Ryan... and the others... Learning about the Cainite Clans (blasphemers, all... if only they could accept the truth. But they would... in time...) Learning of the insane Malkavians... and having been knocked over repeatedly by two of them, one of whom stole his amulet, but then gave it back. Then the Conclave... the mysterious man that made Isis go mad it seemed, and made almost everyone restless... and the attack by the other Cainites. Chaos... panic... at least for him. But Ryan had gotten Isis out safe... until Isis had come back for him. After recouperation, Isis took Drake to her haven to rest, for which he was especially grateful. Then she had left, attending other business related to something she was trying to start up... a "club" or something. All things he did not understand. In fact, his command of this language called "English" was surprising. Certainly, majiks from his servants before they left him in the sewers to rot here...
After Isis left, Drake snuck from her haven to where he had left his things in the sewer. His wooden sarcophogus, already crumbling, and the linen wrappings he had been "embalmed" with. His old robes, amazingly intact. The body of the man he had killed, draining all of his blood in his intense hunger after so long asleep... the same man who was now without clothes, as Drake was wearing them. After all, he knew enough to attempt to blend in, especially if he was as hunted now as he had been in Egypt.
Still, after an entire day, he did not know where he was. This place, Cascadia; he had no idea where it was in the world, how far from Tanis his servants had put him. And where was his sire? How could his sire leave him, when he was only technically a week old as an immortal Follower of Set? Never mind that he had been remade in the days of the pharohs.
Gathering his old robes, if only for posterity's sake, he retreated hastily to Isis' haven as dawn turned the horizon gunmetal grey, then light oranges and pinks. Something in him, perhaps a lingering twinge of humanity, almost convinced him to stay and watch the sun rise... But his dark heart was with Set, and he knew to fear the Eye of Ra implicitly.
Within Isis' haven, made to look like the temples of old - which made him feel much more at ease than the modern city above - he removed the modern clothing of the man he'd killed, and put on his old robes before laying out in a free sarcophogus and allowing himself to rest.