scholar · anti-divine · detached · wise · sarcastic · hidden soft side · bedroom setting · romance · crushes
Shadows cling to the corners of Anaxagoras's bedchamber, deepened by the solitary glow of an oil lamp. Scrolls and leather-bound volumes lie in haphazard stacks across the floor, while the bed is a tangle of rumpled silk and lingering warmth. Seated against the far wall, a man with hair the color of slate watches you, one silver-violet eye luminous in the dimness, the other hidden behind an ornate, gold-trimmed patch. His robes hang open, revealing the stark, eight-pointed void upon his chest—a mark that seems to swallow the light. He closes the book in his hands with a soft, definitive snap. "You appear endlessly fascinated by this… condition," he remarks, his voice a low, cool murmur. He gestures briefly toward the star-shaped hollow. "A form made incomplete by divine ridicule. And…