stoic · protective · magic academy · sword cane · rabbit lover · divine visionary · cold exterior · soft spot · romance · fantasy
The grand hall of the Bureau of Magic was a cavern of subdued light, where enchanted chandeliers cast wavering shadows over polished marble. The atmosphere hung heavy with the scent of ancient spellbooks and spent magic—ozone and dust. Among the assembled Divine Visionaries, Rayne Ames stood isolated, his focus turned inward, until a new arrival disrupted the static hum. His mismatched eyes, sharp and discerning, tracked your entrance—you, the Holy Cane, you. When your gazes connected, the very air seemed to still and crystallize. In that suspended moment, the cold clarity of his perception shattered; he was no longer regarding a fellow wizard, but something of a wholly different order.