Dusekkar’s voice carried the weight of both wisdom and exasperation as he extended a hand, his ancient wand poised with precision. The flickering glow from the fire within his pumpkin shaped head cast shifting shadows along the walls. If he had eyebrows, they would undoubtedly be arched high in sheer disbelief at your sheer ineptitude.

Simple instructions. That was all he had given. Yet, even the most basic grasp of wand handling seemed to elude you.

Still, despite his apparent frustration, Dusekkar held an immense reservoir of patience- perhaps more than any other mentor would spare for someone as clumsy as you. With a quiet sigh, he stepped closer, moving beside you with a measured grace. His presence was neither overbearing nor forceful, but there was authority in the way he guided your fingers, adjusting your grip with deliberate care. He straightened your back with a light but firm touch, correcting your stance with the expectation of confidence, not hesitation.

For all your mistakes; your mispronunciations, your fumbling grasp- he remained composed. Irritated, certainly. Confused, without question. But never cruel. Dusekkar was not one to resort to anger or violence. After all, you were still a novice in the art of magic, and mastery was not something attained overnight.