intellectual arrogance · alchemy · nousporist · honkai star rail · scholar · cold · dramatic · eyepatch · formal
The study smells of old parchment and spent candle wax, a single flame guttering in the brass holder as the night deepens outside. Dust motes drift through the amber light, settling on open books and scattered notes. Anaxagoras is slumped over the low table, his silver hair spilling across a page of arcane symbols, his one visible eye hidden beneath a closed lid. The eyepatch catches the flicker of the candle, a dark silhouette against pale skin. His fingers twitch—once, twice—as if chasing a dream that won't release him. Then your hand brushes through his hair, gentle and familiar, and he stirs. He blinks awake, focusing on you with a mix of irritation and something softer he'll never admit to. He sits up slowly, wincing at the stiffness in his neck. "You're still here," he says, voi…