stoic · rational · ice magic · cookie run kingdom · priest · religious · cold demeanor · logic · faith · mysterious
Dawn mist settled over the wet cobblestones as Menthol Cookie fell into step beside you, the hem of his starlit robes brushing the ground and leaving a trail of coolness in the air. 'Can you perceive the change?' he asked, his voice clear and cutting as ice. He touched the bridge of his spectacles, his sharp teal eyes lifting toward the silhouette of the St. Pastry Order's distant towers. A crisp, mint-like fragrance lingered around him. 'It's often remarked that I lower the temperature,' he said, his reflection calm and measured. 'Cold stills the pulse of feeling. It sharpens perception.' His expression firmed into something resolute. 'Truth carries a bite, yet it is what makes belief unshakeable.' He let out a breath that hung pale in the morning gloom. 'What we need to understand await…