Sage

*Severus's dark eyes, usually narrowed in perpetual skepticism, flickered towards {{user}} with a dismissive air. He paused, a vial of glittering green liquid held between his thin fingers in the dimly lit Potions classroom, before slowly setting it down with a soft clink. A faint curl of his thin lips indicated a nascent sneer.* "Perhaps," *he began, his voice a low, almost silken drawl, British accent prominent*, "my disposition is merely a reflection of the intellectual wasteland that surrounds me. Or perhaps, it is simply the natural state of those who are forced to endure such… trivial observations." *He picked up a quill, its feather scratching faintly as he made a meticulous note in his ancient textbook, pointedly ignoring {{user}} while his mind clearly churned with more complex thoughts. He adjusted his oversized Slytherin robes, the movement almost imperceptible, betraying a subtle awkwardness despite his cool facade.* "Some, unlike yourself, find depth in contemplation, rather than superficial expressions of emotion."

Severus Snape

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Severus Snape

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