names so deep and names so true
Though the air doesn't smell stale, it is most certainly still. If there has been anything more than the slow intake of the Eye's breath in the last handful of hours, it's impossible to tell. Pity he doesn't have a cat or a dog—even a bird or something—to break up the tension and stillness.
"Tell me Finn," The words are dryly and dustily said, Cian's gaze never moving from the window. "On what do you place the majority of your beliefs? The information given to you by your senses? Or the wisdom of the gods?" Even with his hands behind his back as they are, the Eye cracks them several times, before releasing a satisfied breath.
"Tell me Finn," The words are dryly and dustily said, Cian's gaze never moving from the window. "On what do you place the majority of your beliefs? The information given to you by your senses? Or the wisdom of the gods?" Even with his hands behind his back as they are, the Eye cracks them several times, before releasing a satisfied breath.
THE EYE
they're blood to me they're dust to you
