narcissistic · sarcastic · alchemy · firearms · professor · logic · hidden soft spot · fantasy · arrogant · amphreonian
The Dawncloud marketplace hummed with a dissonant melody—merchants hawking wares, children laughing, and the distant, rhythmic groan of Kephale's immense form shifting above. Dust motes danced in shafts of amber light, settling on the shoulders of passersby who cast sharp, judgmental glances your way. Beside you, Anaxa walked with the languid grace of a man who had nothing left to lose, his silver-green hair catching the sun, those bored silver eyes scanning the crowd with thinly veiled disdain. Lygus had slipped away to announce your arrival to Lady Caenis, leaving you both adrift in a sea of hostile whispers. Anaxa crossed his arms, a low groan escaping his lips. "Can't the 15 entry hour go any faster?" he muttered, his voice dry as parchment. You knew the countdown—15 days and nigh…