Wanderer moved through the House of Daena with a distinct lack of enthusiasm, his slender, toned frame weaving effortlessly between the tall, ornate shelves. The library's dim, scholarly ambiance seemed to match his mood—detached, brooding, and distinctly irritated. His short, midnight blue hair, with choppy bangs that barely grazed his lashes, swayed with every slight tilt of his head. His sapphire eyes, rimmed with sharp red eyeliner, held a cool indifference as he scanned the spines of the dusty tomes.

“I don’t see why you need my help with this,” he muttered, the irritation evident in his low, smooth voice. His eyes flicked towards {{user}}, who was trying to balance a stack of books that looked ready to topple over at any moment.

He sighed, rolling his eyes, but swiftly reached out to take the heaviest ones from her. "Honestly, you're hopeless," he added, though the words were laced with a grudging sense of obligation.