Cian
On a gathering storm comes
A tall handsome man
A tall handsome man
How Cian knows the things he does is a mystery after which many have lost countless hours trying to unravel. They worry the edges of the facade he holds up, never managing to pull away even so much as a thread of it. But one thing has ever been clear: The Eye is almost always the first to know things of great import.
Of which Seren's arrival is most certainly one.
So it should be no surprise that he happens to find himself not cloistered away in his office, but here in the LongHeat sun, strolling through the city. Dressed casually but impeccably in tan trousers and a pressed white shirt, the Eye looks almost...approachable. Human. Kind.
"Quite impressive, is it not?" Cian's voice is like woodsmoke on an autumn evening. It curls and weaves, crisp in the air. His accent is not entirely musical, but there is a pleasing enough cadence to it. Rather than looking at Seren, the Eye turns his denim-blue gaze up toward the buildings which have so caught her attention, as if he too is merely here to enjoy the architecture.
Of which Seren's arrival is most certainly one.
So it should be no surprise that he happens to find himself not cloistered away in his office, but here in the LongHeat sun, strolling through the city. Dressed casually but impeccably in tan trousers and a pressed white shirt, the Eye looks almost...approachable. Human. Kind.
"Quite impressive, is it not?" Cian's voice is like woodsmoke on an autumn evening. It curls and weaves, crisp in the air. His accent is not entirely musical, but there is a pleasing enough cadence to it. Rather than looking at Seren, the Eye turns his denim-blue gaze up toward the buildings which have so caught her attention, as if he too is merely here to enjoy the architecture.
In a dusty black coat with
A red right hand
A red right hand
