Wandering Seraph
One of the Old Gods
Cassian Croteau
A heavy, malevolent thought planted itself in Cassian's mind as the fallen angel turned his attention back to Fenli. They had found him. It was possible, wasn't it? A circus attracted a lot of attention wherever it went, and he hadn't exactly kept a low profile with his "fans". Cassian's blood family had eyes everywhere. He was a fool to think he was safe just because he had crossed the French border. He subtly studied the fallen angel--Lucien, his golden eyes prying. Well-built. A stature fit for someone wearing more clothes. Eyes a lighter shade of gold than his own. Definitely not faking. Cassian had come across fake angels before. There had been an incident in his youth, a particular shapeshifter who thought he was smart enough to blend in with the Order. The eyes had given him away. But the creature currently standing about six inches too close to Fenli was most certainly not faking and that fueled Cassian's concern. An unease began to twist in his stomach before the young man leaned slightly and Cassian realized, all at once, that his skin was perfect. Well, maybe not perfect, but unmarked. Not a single scar on his chest or back. Cassian carefully masked the slow sigh that escaped him. This was not one of the Order's operatives. He didn't wear the feather, at least not anywhere that was uncovered. And there was plenty uncovered. Whoever Lucian was, whatever reason he had come to Evergreen, he wasn't there for Cassian.
As Lucian towered over Fen, Cassian was brought back to the moment by Alvar drawing closer to him, hooking a thumb into his shirt, in the gap left by the button at the wrist. Cassian shook off his reverie. He was fine. Maxwell and Calista ran a tight ship. He would keep an eye on Lucian and everything would be fine. For the time being, his main concern was calming Alvar down before he started shaking. Cassian blinked hard, just once, as if clearing sleep from his eyes. He quickly took advantage of the connection Alvar had made, slipping his arm back around his friend's shoulders and steering him definitively out of earshot of Fen and Lucian, closer to the curtain.
"Mon cher, something is definitely wrong," he murmured, tilting his head to try to force eye contact, his gaze straying just slightly from his usual unreadable brand of calm.
"Now come, do you know that man? Lucian?"
He hadn't heard a word of Hawaiian out of Alvar in weeks, if not months. Now that he knew that Lucian wasn't with the Order, he didn't consider him an immediate threat, but if Alvar was scared enough to revert to his native language, then bon sang, he was taking it seriously.
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