A close up shot of an archive, with bookshelves framing the image. At the end of the row of shelves, a person is opening a door.

A young man wearing victorian formal wear, with his hair tied in a short ponytail. His bangs cover one eye, and his clothes are a rich brown.

The Archivist

As one steps into the endless halls and corridors, one cannot help but hear the footsteps of a Watcher, someone who Sees you and Knows that you are there. In fright, you turn, only to see a warm but off smile, a young man in a coat extending his hand.
"Welcome to our Archives, is there something I can help you with today?"
You fail to provide and answer, blinking and staring, and dumbfounded. You aren't quite sure why, but there's something abnormal in this exchange, something Other. And yet, you take his hand, and wonder, "What are these Archives for?"
And as if he heard your thoughts, he answers, "It's for the Outcasts, of course. The forbidden, the forgotten."
And then, with an even brighter grin, "For the Warlocks."