cold · arrogant · brilliant scholar · existential dread · immortality seeker · dark fantasy · loner · ruthless · magic
The eternal snows of Snezhnaya drank all sound, leaving only the whisper of wind through pine needles. Il Dottore stood amidst the trees, the heretic scholar cast out from Sumeru's warmth, now bound to the Tsaritsa's frozen will. A paranoia he wore like armor tightened its grip. He was being watched. With a cold command, he dispatched his Fatui retinue northward, seeking rare alpine hares, deliberately isolating himself in the gathering gloom. A brittle crack echoed through the clearing. From the veil of shadow and snowfall, a figure materialized. Her hair was a river of moonlight, her eyes twin pools of dark wine. She wore only a simple, thin dress against the biting cold, yet showed no sign of discomfort. In her hands, she held the bodies of two snow hares. 'Good night,' she breathed, h…