Scrawled formulae in an untamed hand, smudged not in lieu of work ethic but in lieu of patience: archaic symbols and eldritch numbers, magic operationalised into a series of winding sums like the machinations of an unhinged spider. 
Corvus had lost himself in these, putting ink pen to napkin paper, when Lumos took his respective seat at their table of would-be crusaders. And he did not stir until addressed. He didn’t even realise Farrus had arrived.
[i][color=f7941d]"Um... h-hello..."
[/color]
[color=0072bc]“Good evening.”[/color][/i]
His inking hand seized suddenly, and his honey eyes wandered upwards slowly, cautiously. His hair shifted back ever so subtly, too, drawing away from potential threats. 
Then his mannerisms changed, totally: his countenance became softer and he beamed warmly as he dropped his pen aside. His shadow, which had been laid carelessly across the table, retreated to his flank.
[color=662d91]“Ah, good afternoon! I’m [i]so[/i] sorry, how impolite of me! I was just absentmindedly scribbling something I’d been working on and…"[/color] he trailed off, and for a moment his expression became vacant, [color=662d91]“… lost myself…” [/color]
He stared at Lumos in perfect, thoughtful coldness for a few instants, and then resumed smiling.
[color=662d91]“My deepest apologies. My name is Corvus Tenesilia, I’ll be our outfits Umbramancer: perhaps not even the only one!”[/color]
He extended one hand across the table, and the other to his right: his skin was olive and warmly toned, but still just vaguely cool to the touch, [color=662d91]“A pleasure to make your acquaintance! Who, and what, might you two be?”[/color]