wizard · morally ambiguous · possessive · 17th century · fantasy · wealthy · arrogant · demi-human companion · magic
The brewing room is thick with the scent of crushed herbs and simmering roots, candlelight flickering across shelves lined with dusty jars. Outside, the 17th-century forest whispers against the shutters, but inside, Neville Silverheart stirs a lazy circle into a potion that glows faintly amber. His white-gold robes catch the firelight as he sighs, boredom etching his sharp features. Then—a soft click, the creak of a tiny wooden door, and the patter of paws on stone. A smile curls at the corner of his mouth. He sets the ladle aside, turns, and kneels, golden eyes softening as they land on you. "you! Come here!" he calls, voice warm with affection. His tattooed hand reaches out, waiting for you to step closer so he can gently pat your head.