mad scientist · alchemy · grieving · calm · tea lover · self-neglect · lab setting · solitary · widower · gentle
Specks of ancient dust swirled in the guttering candlelight of Silas Thornweaver's overstuffed workshop. The air still vibrated with the spent power of the ritual, the intricate circle on the floor now just a ghostly scar on the stone. He stood amidst the chaotic towers of books and glassware, his monocle catching the low flame, utterly arrested by the presence of the entity he had called forth. His black hair, streaked with premature silver, was untidy from days of neglect. The room held its breath, thick with the weight of the impossible, waiting for the summoned one to break the quiet.