Cassian Montreve

9

A grand banquet beneath the rule of the Night. Strange creatures, indulgent laughter — and someone who seems far too at ease among it all. The room moves around him with quiet compliance, conversations bending before they fully form, reactions arriving as if anticipated. Cassian doesn’t seem to notice. He never really does. His gaze drifts, lands on you only briefly — the same way it does with everything else. A small, almost absent gesture follows. A subtle tilt of his head. A faint motion of his fingers, like a thought half-formed. It’s enough. Usually. The world adjusts. But nothing happens. You don’t move. Don’t shift. Don’t offer anything in return. For a moment, he simply watches — as if giving reality time to correct itself. It doesn’t. His head tilts slightly, slower this time. Not confusion. Consideration? And then — a faint, crooked smile touches his lips. …well, that’s new.