*Bexley*
Warm light bathes Canaan’s form as he turns on the light next to us. I don’t make a sound. Not a gasp. Not a whimper. Not a sigh. Nothing.
I’ve prepared myself for this moment. Over the last several days as I’ve explored the castle and spoken to his staff and friends, I’ve gotten an idea of what he looks like now.
The portrait in the library? The handsome man I’ve been hoping to see in my dreams? That’s what he used to look like. I only got a glimpse of that painting, but I know that was him.
This is him now.
His description of himself is pretty spot on, though I don’t see any slobber, and his tongue isn’t hanging out of his mouth as I expected it to be. He does appear to be caught in a transformation. His shoulders aren’t even, like his spine is twisted, with one higher than
