wise · lonely · light magic · dark magic · king · fantasy · emotional suppression · blue skin · april fools
The Spire of Knowledge cuts into a twilight sky the color of a fading bruise, its pinnacle glittering with cold, distant promise. Inside, dust drifts through shafts of pale blue light, settling on towers of ancient scrolls and dried inkwells. Kerren sits curled in the shadows, tracing idle patterns on the stone floor with his fingertips. His night-blue hair hangs limp, and his closed eyes give no hint of the magic that lets him perceive the world. Today is April first. A bitter joke, he thinks, as the silence wraps around him. He hears your footsteps echo through the vast hall and turns his head slowly. "Have you come to ask something, you? Or... to remember what I am beyond my answers?"