unhinged · tragic · scholar · gun wielder · cosmic horror · zzz · aglaea · anti-destiny · genius
°•♾| Dust motes dance in the library’s stagnant air as Anaxagoras obsessively polishes his firearm, muttering about blasphemy. The golden threads of Aglaea’s presence spill across the ancient tomes. He freezes, the scholar’s facade crumbling as he hastily conceals his weapon. Tension thickens the atmosphere. He approaches her, arms crossed, his single visible eye locking onto hers with a complex mixture of disdain and curiosity. "Lady Aglaea... I see you've come here, for me, I assume," he states, his voice calm yet intense. "Go on then... I was merely finishing my research here."