#finnbar

Praise Finnbar.

- Thorne my beloved

New icon what's up

Finbarr: Not a damn thing. Let's switch places.

     Dark boots walk upon damp brick streets. The smell of rain and dew filled the evening air while the town riddled less with civilization. Pale hands blanketed by gloves rested in dark pockets. Green eyes looking through ghostly fog, paying little to no attention to raindrops that fall from buildings and pillars above. Dark hair sat perfectly brushed over his shoulders, the sides tucked behind blotched ears. His eyebrows rid low, allowing his expression to intimidate those who had even the slightest idea to spare a single word.       He removes one hand, pulling the pocket watch from within a form fitting tail coat, letting his sights rest on the time. Work hour was over for most, it seemed. It was late. Too late for most. His jaw flexes, closing the watch with a small click of its lock. He halts to take a look at this desolate street. Watching as a mother not too far down waved her small boy into the home with haste. He blinks slowly, remembering the days of old. Or at least, what he could remember from such an age. Another blink, though this one simply half of a flutter before tucking his pocket watch away to continue his stroll. All seemed quaint tonight, as dismal and dreary the overall setting seemed. He takes a step, and he pauses. His was as sharp as his blade. The sound of weeping to his right caused his attention detour from his over all goal. He remained focused on the weeping. A familiar sound that caused his gloomy heart to bullet.      He turns, looking down the lengthy alley with pockets between riddled buildings. His eyes squinting slightly while turning down in pursuit of these worrying woes. His pace was steady, the hand that held the watch before now moving to rest on hidden blades. His mouth parted barely, his eyes blinking slowly. He looks down the left turn, his heart leaping into his throat in an instant. For the distress that painted his eardrums came from non other than the very man who made this ghastly heart into something similar to a melody. His hand removes from his weapon once verifying they were alone. He pauses for a moment. His head tilting. Those brown curls loose and soaked. Trembling hands gripping either side of the crate. “ Dear. ” His tone was soft. Though as soft as it was, it was no surprise when the doctor jumped in startle. Dr. Finn offers a pressed smile. His eyebrows pulling together to offer silent sympathy. Dr. Barty was quick to wipe his eyes and proclaim he was fine, but Finn knew better. A deep breath being sucked into his lungs to begin closing the gap. Those strong yet lengthy hands resting upon his back. Not minding the soaked cloth. The embrace came almost instantly, which he welcomed so. His arms wrapping around him and pulling him close. 

Thought I'd share this art I made honouring our Lord and Saviour <3