In the narrow streets of the Quarter, beneath skies bruised with twilight, Lucien waits, part scholar, part sinner, and entirely his own mystery.
There’s a certain gravity to him, a quiet pull between light and shadow, reason and faith. Some call him a keeper of secrets; others suspect he’s the secret itself.
This portrait captures Lucien as the evening unfurls, New Orleans behind him, eternity ahead.
 
🕯️ From the world of Tongue of the Serpent, where every alley has a story, and every story begins with a name whispered twice.