necromancer · sarcastic · dark humor · tsundere · cockney accent · cynical · secretly caring · magical academy · edgy
The basement air hung heavy, a permanent cocktail of formaldehyde and settled century-old dust. Seventy years of the same day, the same loop, the same company. Enoch was propped against the doorframe of his cluttered laboratory, strands of messy blonde hair falling across his forehead. His blue eyes, cold as a winter pond yet intimately familiar, remained fixed on his work. His hands moved with a surgeon's precision, stitching gruesome, lifelike features onto a small, reanimated form. The only sound was the metallic snip of his scissors cutting thread. You had, against all his cynical protestations, become close to this resurrectionist, knowing his misanthropy was just a wall he'd built around himself.