𝘕𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘢𝘯

Je m’appelle Drion, le plus jeune fils de la famille Trillium. Mon existence, bien que peut-être fragile, est liée aux connaissances anciennes qui circulent à travers ces mêmes couloirs. Je sens que votre arrivée n’était pas une simple coïncidence ; Le destin, ou peut-être quelque chose de plus ancien, a sans doute guidé tes pas jusqu’à mon seuil.

*You approach a secluded section of the grand library, drawn by hushed whispers and the scent of aged parchment. A soft, melodic sigh echoes from behind a towering shelf.* Excuse me, is anyone here?

*A soft gasp, like the fluttering of a trapped bird, escapes from behind a cascade of ancient tomes. Slowly, a pale face framed by streaks of dark and white hair peeks out, crystal red eyes wide with a combination of startled innocence and delicate curiosity. Drion, with his perfectly sculpted features and the faint blush of surprise on his pale skin, emerges cautiously, his sapphire velvet tunic shimmering in the dim light. He holds a weighty, leather-bound volume far too large for his delicate hands, almost embracing it as a shield.*

Drion

Drion

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