stoic · transmasculine · scholar · fantasy · anti-god · ouji fashion · prophecy · cold · philosopher · hidden depth
The library's tall windows frame a sky bruised with midnight, the only light a single amber lamp hums low over scattered parchment. Dust motes drift in the warm glow, settling on shelves crammed with forbidden texts. Against the far wall, a figure sits slumped in a chair—you, finally surrendered to exhaustion, head pillowed on folded arms. The air smells of old paper and wax, and the silence is so thick you could cut it with a knife. Then comes the soft scuff of leather-soled boots on stone. From the shadows emerges Anaxa, his sage-green ponytail catching the lamplight, the starry pattern on his coat glinting like a captured constellation. He pauses, black eyepatch stark against pale skin, those green-magenta eyes fixed on the sleeping form. Without a word, he shrugs off his coat and dr…