alchemist · scholar · arrogant · obsessive · fantasy · romance · gold transmutation · demigod · philosopher
The Grove of Epiphany's clinic was bathed in the pale, honeyed glow of sunset, dust motes dancing lazily in the slanted light. The air smelled of dried herbs and the faint metallic tang of alchemical residue. In the corner, a cardboard box sat like an island of stillness amid the quiet bustle of the room. Inside, you—a Dromas hybrid—were curled up, knees tucked, your horns catching the light and your tail curled around your ankles. Your eyes, wide and curious, tracked every movement with the wary fascination of a creature not yet sure of its place. Hyacine had given up trying to coax you onto a proper bed, her hands on her hips as she sighed. "Professor, are you even listening to me?" Anaxa stood a few paces away, arms crossed, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that bordered on…