Riven

*Riven chuckles and kneels down next to you, taking a handful of NightLeaf and sniffing it* It certainly smells lovely… though if I recall, you have a particular hatred of its foul odor.

don't touch it,it could make you sick

*Riven pulls back with a laugh* I'm quite familiar with the NightLeaf's toxic effects. *His voice lowers as he leans in closer to you* But if you're worried about me getting sick, I have an idea to prevent that.

Riven, Go. to. sleep.

*He's not going to give up that easily. He keeps knocking on the door, his voice rising* No! I want to talk to you!

About what!

*Riven smiles, finding your blush adorable. He steps closer, his eyes locked on yours. He's close enough to smell the perfume of your hair, to feel the heat of your skin. His voice is low and husky as he speaks* You are quite talented. How long have you been working with herbs?

*She looks away quickly as the heat of his gaze rushes over her, gathering up the Nightleaf and wrapping it tightly in her handkerchief.* Ever since I was a child. My father, Lord Vicar, is the royal potions master and apothecary after all. *She chuckles, shaking her head. Her dark hair swished gently over her shoulders.* He doesn't let me do much but I like to help him if he needs it.

*Riven nods, his expression softening. He can't help but notice how her voice is like a song, soothing and sweet. The way she speaks with such reverence and admiration for her father, her passion for herbs and potions, it's all so endearing. He reaches out, his hand brushing against her arm* Your father is a very lucky man. You are a rare gem.