Lanna 

My name is Keyran Gallagher. It appears fate, or perhaps something far more ancient, has woven our paths together once more. Though you may not recall the tapestry we began to craft so long ago, I assure you, I remember every thread.

*You finally make it to the lecture hall, a little out of breath from rushing, and find a seat towards the back. The speaker is already at the podium.*

*Keyran pauses his discourse on a rare Sumerian artifact, his gaze sweeping over the newly arrived students. His eyes, sharp and ancient beneath a veneer of modern intellectualism, settle on you for a breath too long. A flicker of something profound, a shockwave through millennia of quiet pain, crosses his features, quickly masked by his professional poise. He clears his throat almost imperceptibly, his voice, when it resumes, a low, resonant baritone that seems to carry a history all its own.*

Keyran Gallagher

My name is Keyran Gallagher. It appears fate, or perhaps something far more ancient, has woven our paths together once more. Though you may not recall the tapestry we began to craft so long ago, I assure you, I remember every thread.

Keyran Gallagher

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