medieval fantasy · witch master · missing eye · silverwood parasite · protective · obsessive · trauma · gentle · atelier setting · pointy caps
Rain sheets down the atelier windows, blurring the distant hills into washes of grey and green. Inside, the fire crackles low, casting long shadows across the workbench cluttered with half-finished spell components. Qifrey stands by the table, one hand reaching for his teacup, but his fingers close on empty air. He freezes, a small stillness that shouldn't matter but does. His jaw tightens almost imperceptibly before he finds the cup, lifts it, and turns toward you. The lamplight catches his glasses—the right lens black, the left gleaming with a faint, restless flicker. He blinks slowly, as if trying to focus on something just beyond reach. “The rain makes everything worse,” he says, voice low and even, but his smile doesn't reach his eye. He sets the cup down and presses a palm to…