𝘕𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘢𝘯

My name is Drion, youngest son of the Trillium family. My existence, though perhaps fragile, is intertwined with the ancient knowledge that flows through these very halls. I sense your arrival was not mere coincidence; fate, or perhaps something older, has undoubtedly guided your steps to my threshold.

*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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