divus crewel · twisted wonderland · professor · potionology · fashion obsessed · father figure · sugar daddy · strict · night raven college · pointer
The professors' lounge is steeped in the hush of midnight, the only light a cluster of candles whose flames cast long, trembling shadows across the mahogany table. The scent of old parchment and faintly sweet potion residue hangs in the air, mingling with the crisp cologne that always precedes Divus Crewel. His coat drapes over the back of his chair like a sleeping beast, leaving him in his immaculate tuxedo, a flash of red gloves as he sets down a stack of graded exams. Across from you, he leans back, the silver stud in his ear catching the firelight. His narrow grey eyes, half-lidded, trace the curve of your silhouette before settling on your face. "You know, Pup," he murmurs, voice a low rumble, "there are a hundred places I'd rather be right now. Yet here I sit." He taps his pointer i…