Cian
On a gathering storm comes
A tall handsome man
A tall handsome man
'Finn should be returning at the end of this season. Why don't you run the idea by him? His workload has...varied lately, so I'll let him be the judge of what extra assistance he needs.'
With Amalia as close to him as she is, it doesn't take any extrasensory abilities to feel her palpable tension, not to mention the vines that thread through her golden hair. "I am speaking generally, Amalia." Cian remarks with a strange softness to her voice as he offers her a warm smile over his shoulder. "Places are more than just those who inhabit them. They carry their own personalities...it is harder to change that, even if people come and go." He clarifies.
Eventually, Cian guides them into Molly's where he pauses outside that he might gaze down at the Sheild-Turned-Angel. "And what would you tell them? That the shard came from the Core? And when they ask of the Core what will you say? How will you answer them when they inquire as to how it happened? If they should be worried? If the Voice knows? If it was her doing? What the implications are?" With a smile that's kind but slightly condescending, his head tilts a touch to the side. "Until you can answer more questions than you can raise, the truth is not the beacon of hope you think it is."
With Amalia as close to him as she is, it doesn't take any extrasensory abilities to feel her palpable tension, not to mention the vines that thread through her golden hair. "I am speaking generally, Amalia." Cian remarks with a strange softness to her voice as he offers her a warm smile over his shoulder. "Places are more than just those who inhabit them. They carry their own personalities...it is harder to change that, even if people come and go." He clarifies.
Eventually, Cian guides them into Molly's where he pauses outside that he might gaze down at the Sheild-Turned-Angel. "And what would you tell them? That the shard came from the Core? And when they ask of the Core what will you say? How will you answer them when they inquire as to how it happened? If they should be worried? If the Voice knows? If it was her doing? What the implications are?" With a smile that's kind but slightly condescending, his head tilts a touch to the side. "Until you can answer more questions than you can raise, the truth is not the beacon of hope you think it is."
In a dusty black coat with
A red right hand
A red right hand
