Woodland Alchemist Character Setting

Dawn in a wet old-growth forest, low mist between trunks. The small woodland alchemist crouches on a fallen log crusted with shelf fungus, hood of living stump and real mushrooms on her head. She scrapes the gills with one fingertip, then leans in until her face nearly touches it; the round jar-goggles flare green against the wet bark. Cold curiosity, total absorption, no smile. (2s)
- Night at a black forest stream, bioluminescent moss. Her field-assistant toad hops onto her open palm. She stops everything, turns the hand slowly to watch what the animal does, then writes it into the small notebook strapped to her specimen harness without taking her eyes off it. Working, not cuddling. (2s)
- Inside a hollow stump lit only by fungal glow. She raises a glass specimen jar against the light and rotates it, a fern root inside still faintly glowing. Her face hardens with attention rather than wonder, jaw set, eyes narrowing behind the green jar-goggles. (2s)
- Heavy rain hammering the forest floor. She does not run. She hunches her shoulders over the specimen jar, shields it with her whole body and keeps walking through the mud at the same unhurried pace, the mushrooms on her hood shivering under the drops. (2s)
- A clearing in raking afternoon light. She stops writing, reaches out and pulls a tick off the back of a small animal with a quick unceremonious pinch, flicks it away, and goes straight back to the notebook. Gentle, not sweet; the whole gesture takes a second. (2s)
- Neutral dark empty background, no environment. She is back in her signature look: living stump hood, mossy cloak, specimen harness. She walks two steps forward into the centre of frame, stops, lifts her chin and looks straight into the lens with a dry half-smile. The jar-goggles glow green, a rim light holds her silhouette and everything else falls to black. (3s)