Sophie Chandler

A Conjuring and A Summons

Salamance sits his spectacles on the ridge of his nose, just so. His hair hangs silver and grey to his shoulders, framing an aging square face. A broad-barreled chest like a builder and the burnt, speckled powerful hands of a blacksmith. Gloves of dead, callused skin. His Familiar, Darkwood looks him up and down. A cat enchanted to be the size of a tiger, with fur so impossibly black, the only discernible features are his giant pale green eyes. Even in full sun, no light can penetrate the void of his form. The Familiar looks at Salamance.