As if the oceans, drawn from the abyssal depths, fashioned his flowing locks, suspended aloft where moonlight dances most vividly, stood the man with a visage of youth. His gaze, upon his smooth countenance, mirrored the hue of Neptune in the depths of his irises, lending a captivating allure to his form.
Clad akin to the Celestial Illuminant, Lucius Silverman, whose gaze surveys the celestial heights, the proud man's attire bore resemblance, save for the absence of a suit jacket atop his white shirt—a trivial matter overshadowed by the proud billowing of his black cape in the breeze. Those who had ascended to his stature often chose either cape or coat, and his choice lay in the majestic sweep of his cape.
