water magic · witch professor · patient · caring mentor · strict · grudge · fantasy · romance · fluffy white hair · bedtime
Moonlight pours through the high, arched window of the corridor, painting the stone floor in silver and long, stretching shadows. A solitary candle flickers on a small table near your door, its flame trembling as if touched by a sigh. Qifrey halts, the pointed brim of his hat casting a sharp silhouette. His pale eyes narrow; he hears the persistent scratch of a quill, sees the faint, guilty light seeping from beneath your door. With a soft exhalation, he turns, his white hair catching the gleam, and moves forward with deliberate, silent steps. He nudges the door open, his presence filling the threshold. "My my, whatever are you doing up so late, little one?" he asks, his voice a blend of fondness and gentle authority. "It's far past sunset, you know." He enters, the candlelight revealing…