Cormack & Conor

Cormack and Conor:

“The twins were on either side of her, leaning in, each the mirror image of the other, eyes gray as the winter sky, hair deep brown and glossy as a ripe chestnut.”

From Daughter of the Forest

Conor (older):

“There were young folk wearing the homespun, both boys and girls; and there were men of middle years, of whom my Uncle Conor was one. Come late to the learning of the great mysteries, he was now their leader, a pale, grave man of middle height, his long chestnut hair streaked with gray, his eyes deep and serene.”

From Son of Shadows

Finbar

Finbar:

“Long nose, wide mouth, a dusting of freckles on pale skin, a firmly set jaw, and under the dark hair tangling on his brow, eyes like clear water of an unfathomable depth. That was Finbar.”

From Daughter of the Forest

“But it was not the sudden fright of the encounter that made my heart thump now. It was not the similarity this man bore to my uncle Sean, and to Liadan, with his long pale face and shock of wild dark hair, his slender, upright form and neat, clever features. Nor was it his ragged robe, his tattered cloak, his unshod feet that shocked me. It was the wing he bore in place of his left arm; a great shining thing, a gleaming swath of gold and pink and cream in the lantern light.”

From Child of the Prophecy

Last Updated: 29.August.2012

Bran

Bran:

“This was a face such as I had never seen before, even in the most fanciful of dreams, a face that was, in its way, a work of art. For it was light and dark, night and day, this world and the Otherworld. On the left side, the face of a youngish man, the skin weathered but fair, the eye gray and clear, the mouth well formed if unyielding in character. On all the right side, extending from an undrawn mark down the exact center, an etching of line and curve and feathery pattern, like the mask of some fierce bird of prey. An eagle? A goshawk? No, it was, I thought, a raven, even as far as the circles about the eye and the suggestion of predatory beak around the nostril. The mark of the raven. If I had not been so frightened, I might have laughed at the irony of it. The pattern extended down his neck and under the border of his leather jerkin and the linen shirt he wore beneath it. His head was completely shaven, and the skull, too, was colored the same, half-man, half-wild creature; some great artist of the inks and needle had wrought this over many days, and I imagined the pain must have been considerable.”

From Son of Shadows

Last Updated: 29.August.2012

Ciarán

Ciarán:

“He was, indeed, a well-made young fellow, quite tall and very straight backed with the discipline of his kind, his curling hair not the fiery red of my father’s and Niamh’s but a deeper shade, the color at the heart of a winter sunset. And his eyes were dark, the dark of ripe mulberries, and hard to read. There was a little cleft in his chin, and he had a pair of wicked dimples when he allowed them to show.”

From Son of Shadows

Last Updated: 29.August.2012

Somerled

Somerled:

“He looked down the temple toward the great assembly of folk, and straight into a pair of eyes so dark, so piercingly intense that his heart seemed to grow still a moment, then lurch painfully back into life. His mind had been on Thor, and blood, and sacrifice, and for a moment he had thought—but no, this was only a boy, a lad of his own age or maybe younger, who stood among the richly dressed entourage of the nobleman, Ulf. But how he stared. He looked at Eyvind as a starving wolf gazes at a man across the wayside fire, wary, fascinated, dangerous. The boy was pale and thin, his brown hair straggling unplaited, his mouth a line. His features were unremarkable save for those feral eyes. “

From Wolfskin

Last updated 19.June.2011