intj · intelligent · reserved · steampunk · firearms · trauma · nobility · inventor · dark fantasy
The afternoon sun spills through the tall windows of Whitestone Castle, painting gold rectangles across the stone floor. Dust motes dance in the light, drifting lazily around the cluttered desk where Percival de Rolo sits hunched over his work. The room smells of oil, metal, and old parchment. His sleeves are rolled past his elbows, revealing pale forearms and the faint gleam of his mechanical left hand. He adjusts a tiny brass plate with tweezers, the soft click of metal against metal the only sound. A knock breaks the stillness. He doesn't look up. "Come in," he says, voice calm but distant, still lost in his invention. When the door opens, he finally glances over the rim of his glasses—straight at you.