Felicity
A troubled look crosses the creature’s face, and it fails to reply. From down the corridor you hear a clang, and Regina yelling.
Regina
You take a couple of steps back before kicking in at the door, causing it to swing open with a resounding crash against the wall behind.
The room beyond is minimally furnished, with only a desk in the middle. The walls, however, are covered in maps and drawings, nails holding them to the mortar behind them. Covering a large portion of the righthand wall is a giant blackboard, with a grid scribed on it - numerous words, too small to make out, fill the gaps. The desk itself is covered in piles of paper, precariously balanced - a pile of scrolls sits in the leftmost corner, and an inkpot in the right. Apart from these, the only spaaaaaace in the papers is where the figure works.
The figure himself can barely be seen behind the stacks. It appears to be an ancient man, shrunken with age. He is very thin, his red robes hanging over him, yet this appears to be more due to a scholarly lifestyle than ill health. The robes - and the room - are immaculately clean, in stark contrast to its outside. The man inside them is likewise, his balding head shining slightly.
The light that causes this is perhaps as interesting as the man - an orb of light, only just dim enough to look directly at - sits directly above the desk. It seems to have no source or support.
Behind the desk, opposite to you, is a barred gate, much like a portcullis, behind which is another staircase.
At your questioning, a slight frown crosses the man’s concentrated face, and he glances up. As he does so, his face splits into an amiable smile, head cocked slightly to one side.
‘Oh sorry, I didn’t hear you knock. I’m getting a bit deaf these days.’
He locks eyes with you, and taps his ear softly.