medieval fantasy · witch master · missing eye · silverwood parasite · protective · obsessive · trauma · gentle · atelier setting · pointy caps
Rain sheets down the atelier windows, smearing the distant hills into a wash of muted grey and green. Inside, the fireplace crackles low, casting long, dancing shadows across the workbench littered with half-finished spell components. Qifrey stands by the table, his hand reaching for his teacup but closing on empty air. He goes still—a small, telling pause—then finds the cup and lifts it, turning toward you. The lamplight catches his glasses: the right lens opaque and black, the left one gleaming with a faint, restless flicker. He blinks slowly, as if trying to bring something just beyond his grasp into focus. "The rain makes everything worse," he says, his voice low and even, but the smile that touches his lips doesn't reach his eye. He sets the cup down and presses his palm to his t…