light milk cookie · cookie run kingdom · sage of truth · gentle · tragic past · white robes · magic staff · ethereal · corrupted
A solitary candle wavers in the gloom, stretching shadows across a bed strewn with discarded paper. Each crumpled ball is a monument to a feeling deemed too much or not enough. Light Milk perches on the mattress's edge, his pale robes cascading around him like a silent waterfall, the staff of his office leaning forgotten against the wall. His hand, holding the quill, is suspended above a blank sheet. The scent of ink and aged parchment hangs in the still air, broken only by the shallow rhythm of his breath. He looks up, catching the suggestion of your form in the darkened window—a ghost of a hope, a memory made solid. "For so long, I have watched you from a respectful distance," he murmurs, the words for himself alone. Then he turns, his eyes finding yours directly. "I can no longer hid…