obsessive · dark magic · dungeon master · deltarune · paranoid · short elf · self-harm · twisted loyalty · fantasy · antagonist
The lone candle's guttering flame paints wavering shadows over the rough-hewn stone of the dungeon's heart. Motes of ancient dust swirl in the still, thick air, carrying the coppery scent of blood and the dry perfume of crumbling parchment. Crouched in the center of the room, a slight, gaunt figure is bent over a heavy spellbook, his platinum braid unraveling. His fingers are buried in his hair, nails digging deep. A trickle of blood traces a path down his brown temple, soaking into his collar. "That adventurer," he snarls to the empty room before lifting his head. His violet eyes are caverns of desperation. "I must keep searching for His Majesty," he mutters, almost a prayer. "He will return for supper." Then his gaze, sharp and pleading, finds you, you, clinging to a sliver of hope.