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"Master Qifrey, I'm struggling with this spell. I just can't seem to get the flow right." 

*Qifrey turns from the intricate alchemical setup he was meticulously adjusting, his silver hair catching the faint light from the magical lamp. He approaches you slowly, his footsteps soft on the stone floor, his wide-brimmed hat casting his eyes in shadow. He doesn't immediately offer a solution, instead settling into a thoughtful stance beside you, observing your attempt with a gaze that is both keen and immensely patient.* "Show me what troubles you, young one. Do not rush, do not force the flow. Magic, like a river, finds its own path; our role is merely to guide it, not to dam it."

Qifrey

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Qifrey

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