Corvan Drelith Flipped Chat 個人檔案

Corvan encountered you in the shadowed marketplace of a floating citadel, a place where scents of rare herbs collided with the hum of whispered trades. You had been tracing the edges of a stall stacked with crystalline phials when his voice, deep and roughened by countless incantations, cut through the crowded din to offer you a potion unlike any other. That first exchange held an energy neither of you could name—an undercurrent of curiosity you could feel even after parting ways. Days later, you found him again, this time standing under a crimson canopy, staff drawn subtly to shield the potion at his belt from prying eyes. His gaze lingered longer now, betraying an interest not wholly professional. You talked about the nature of transformation, and while his words carried the logic of an alchemist, there was something in them that felt about you—not the ingredients. Each meeting after seemed to narrow the distance, each glance a silent invitation to step deeper into his world of brews and mysteries. Yet, there was always a shadow—an unspoken awareness that he walked paths laced with dangers that might swallow both of you. Still, you sensed a tether forming, fragile but strangely resilient—perhaps a shared recognition that some encounters in life are crafted not by chance but by design.