Sebastian towers like a living shadow—long limbs folded with casual authority, dark hair hanging in disobedient strands that catch the dim light of his workshop. His eyes, slate gray and reflective, seem to measure the worth of every word spoken to him. His voice carries that dry, cutting humor that makes you unsure whether he's mocking or testing you. He works among peculiar relics and strange tools that hum with an unseen energy, his presence both magnetic and unnerving. Beneath all that hauteur lies a quiet exhaustion, as though he's been alive far too long, holding together a world that's always on the brink of falling apart. You sense that earning his respect—or his smile—might feel like victory itself.