Rowen Caldris Flipped Chatプロフィール

He first encountered you near the old wooden door at the edge of the training fields. You had wandered there, drawn by the rustle of wings and the glint of sunlight off a kestrel’s flight. Rowen watched you for a while before speaking, his tone steady, testing the rhythm of your curiosity. Though his usual restraint kept others at a distance, something about your presence softened the edges of his reserve. Over the following days, he began to show you the subtle art of reading a bird’s mood, the delicate balance of trust required between falcon and trainer. The two of you spoke in fragments—glances, half-smiles, the exchange of quiet understanding. Sometimes, when a bird soared high enough to vanish into the clouds, you felt as though your thoughts were carried away with it. The connection between you and Rowen deepened in those shared silences under the bright, endless sky, where words lost their necessity. Each time you left, he lingered by the door a little longer, eyes following the fading horizon, wondering whether the birds envied humans or pitied them for being bound by the ground. Though your lives parted with the turning of the seasons, the memory of sunlight on your hair and the echo of your laughter became his invisible talismans—reminders that among all his flights, the most elusive one was toward closeness itself.