DEAN GRAY

A young man with blonde hair and blue eyes sitting barefoot on a mossy ground in front of a foggy, eerie house, wearing a black jacket and beige pants.

About Dean

Hidden from the rollingreen, there was a quest without form across Thoughtscapes to the ruined city, where I was made both King and Messenger. We find feet like wings, and wings like eyes, echoing darkluck that which God had once told us was a Promise. 

The stairs ascended, we made a house at it’s pinnacle, and onebyone leapt from the edge into the adoring Nothing, shattering like light, suspended forever like the rain.

Everything and nothing is Too Late. I have ducked low into caverns where solace lives to ensure it, as I have been created to ensure it.

Dean’s bedroom is Room Five in the Clock of Bedrooms.

NOW SPINNING IN ROOM FIVE