#corvan

To Be Alone by Hozier

"But I don’t know what else that I would do. Than try to kiss the skin that crawls from you. Than to feel your weight on arms I’d never use. It’s the god that heroin prays to.”

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20, 6’0" (175 cm); slender, long-limbed; shoulders a little hunched from writing. light with warm undertone, freckles across nose, bruises show easily. soft mouth, thoughtful brow, cheeks hollow slightly when stressed. deep brown eyes, always moving, always reading. Lashes too long (unfairly pretty). Chestnut, wavy hair falls into his eyes; usually shoved back. Ink-stained fingertips, small calluses at the base of the fingers; one cracked nail from travel. worn scholar layers—soft linen shirt, patched vest, scarf that smells faintly of paper and smoke; journal strapped close like a rib.

Corvan is the one who sees the MC when the MC is trying to become unseeable. To the MC, Corvan becomes a fragile kind of refuge: someone whose attention isn’t a threat, but a witness.

Corvan doesn’t demand the MC perform. Corvan just… stays.

Corvan’s visions are not a new phenomenon—just newly intense. He learned long ago that speaking about them invites punishment, mockery, or worse.

There’s a history with institutions: records, shrines, officials who decide what is “true.” Corvan knows what it costs when the wrong people write the story.

Corvan’s romance is intimate because it’s witnessing. He falls in love slowly, faithfully, and with terrifying permanence. His possessiveness is gentle, which makes it harder to refuse.