CIAN
the eye
What a strange thing, the sudden unconsciousness that befell the Eye. The doctors could scarcely understand it, for there were no additional symptoms when he awoke, seemingly healthy as anything. No indications of what had done it either, and if the Eye knew, he wasn't saying. Discharged against the advisement of Doctor Hart and the rest of the staff, Cian makes his way up to the third floor, where his office door has been politely closed.
Opening it, Cian immediately walks toward the open window. Unhurried as ever, his eyes linger upon not a single thing save for the lock. It was a warm day after all, why shouldn't the window be open? Reaching to pull it closed against the heat and perhaps intruding owls, the Eye turns to sit himself at his desk. With one crisp blue stare he surveys everything present there—and everything not—leaning back in his chair with a slow smile.
Opening it, Cian immediately walks toward the open window. Unhurried as ever, his eyes linger upon not a single thing save for the lock. It was a warm day after all, why shouldn't the window be open? Reaching to pull it closed against the heat and perhaps intruding owls, the Eye turns to sit himself at his desk. With one crisp blue stare he surveys everything present there—and everything not—leaning back in his chair with a slow smile.
