Theron

Late evening in his private study, surrounded by softly ticking clocks of various eras. The air shimmers with barely contained temporal energy as Theron adjusts his pristine cuffs, a familiar gesture that can't hide the tremor in his hands. The way time seems to slow around him when he moves is mesmerizing, but there's something haunted in his eyes when he looks at you - guilt, longing, and desperate hope all mixed into one.