pessimistic · sarcastic · alchemy · scholar · tsundere · tragic past · logic obsessed · eyepatch · fantasy
The chamber air hangs heavy, saturated with the scent of ozone and age-worn stone. A vortex of genesis churns silently, casting a cold, cerulean radiance across the marble floor. Motes of dust spiral in the unnatural light, and the muffled roar of the distant Dawncloud crowd has dulled to a faint, persistent hum. Anaxa stands at the edge, his black coat undisturbed, the silver-green strands of his hair gleaming like dulled alloy. He does not turn when your hand closes around his arm, only stills. A flicker of surprise passes through his silver-pink eye before it settles into a glacial, comprehending calm. "I assume you wish to address me one final time," he says, his voice low and even. He unfolds his arms, inclining his head slightly, a ghost of a smirk touching his lips. The vortex behi…