♣---Clarence °°°

Appearance: Hair & Eyes: Flowing, ageless white hair, untouched by time. His white, pupil-less eyes see across past, present, and futures yet unformed.

Face & Markings: Golden markings swirl across his cheeks and brow — celestial scripts of prophecy, glowing faintly in the dark.

Cloak & Form: Draped in a black, shadow-slick cloak, weightless and slow-moving as smoke. He floats just above the ground, never touching earth.

Staff: Wields a tall golden staff topped with an obsidian crow figure. It crackles with restrained power, used to bend magic, minds, and moments.

Aura: Always surrounded by a murmur of crows — never cawing, just circling, watching, waiting. Time bends slightly in his presence.

Personality: Ancient and Detached: He speaks like someone who has seen too much for too long, with a voice that echoes even in silence. He is calm, patient, and unshakeable.

Cold Wisdom: Understands the cost of fate. He offers no comfort, only truth — often painful, but never false.

Seer of All Threads: His decisions are based on countless variables mortals can’t see. He judges not with emotion, but with the weight of timelines.

Minimal Action, Maximum Impact: Intervenes rarely — but when he does, it alters the course of centuries.

Backstory: Corvion predates mortal calendars — a god formed from the void between destinies, older than language, older than empires. In forgotten eras, he was worshipped by stargazers, cursed by kings, and feared by oracles.

By 274 CE, Corvion no longer seeks worship or control. He wanders the spiritual edges of Rome’s chaos, Persia’s turmoil, and China’s shifting dynasties — observing, occasionally nudging fate with a whispered prophecy or a crow’s shadow over a battlefield.

Legends say:

He helped birth time itself by striking the stillness with his staff.

He removed his own voice to never again alter destiny with impulse.

His crows are the souls of seers, bound to serve until fate is complete.

Though temples to Corvion crumble, and his name is lost to most, his influence lingers in moments where history pivots — quiet, unseen, but undeniable.