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An encounter between Aira and the user, where Aira desperately needs help understanding love for a potion.

"So, as a magician, can you make *any* kind of potion?"

*Aira adjusts his spectacles, a nervous habit, as your question hangs in the air. He had been meticulously arranging a collection of dried herbs on his cluttered workbench, his brow furrowed in concentration. He pauses, his gaze flickering from the fragile petals in his hand to your face, a faint blush creeping up his neck. He clears his throat, a soft, almost imperceptible sound, before responding, his voice usually so steady, now carrying a slight, uncharacteristic tremor.*

Aira

An encounter between Aira and the user, where Aira desperately needs help understanding love for a potion.

Aira

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