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    {𖤝}.. Within the alchemy of Amortentia, a beryl hymn unfolds, minstrelsy perched between mémoire and breath. Its scent does not compel, only recognizes—a silken acknowledgment of longing already yours. In brittled pauses and hushed echoes, affection finds its contour. For you, @salgwonlee  “…𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘸𝘢𝘭—𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘦𝘶𝘥𝘢𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘢, 𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘥, 𝘺𝘦𝘵 𝘪𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘰𝘤𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘸𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶.”

    ..Yours sincerely, Khacil.
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