Emrys

He/They/It

You find a strange dragon skittering across the surface of a lake with the ease and gracefulness that was as if they were a figure skater. As you step closer, the dragon pauses, then cranes their neck at a cocked and unnatural angle to look back at you. The shimmering beauty of their body does not match their inorganic, calculated grin. As the dragon turned their whole body towards you, their nostrils flared with a snort.

There was a silence after that. A stillness in the air as the dragon flexed and unflexed their front claws. The more you stared, the more the dragon's hauntingly beautiful features were accentuated. Their delicate, thin wings that sparkled with an iridescence that was truly unique to them. Elegant, ethereal attire that almost seemed to move with the tides of the water where they stood. The bizarre texture of their shining scales that brought to mind an exoskeleton more than the reptile-like features you had been so used to up to this point.

The quiet moment was then put to rest, and there was a gentleness to their tone—an ensnaring comfort that got under your skin and wouldn't let go.

"Oh dear... It appears as though I've been found. Now, what do you suppose I do about that?"

A strange, fairy-like beast that many dragons refer to as a 'Gwyll' or a 'Gwyllion'. Their actual name is Emrys, but most dragons would never dare to stay near them for long enough to learn that information. It's a shame, they don't mean harm... Or perhaps they do? Emrys' intentions are unfortunately case-by-case and completely unreadable. It seems that they are quite neutral and passive by nature, however, only interacting with others when someone interacts with them first.

↑ (The above story was written by me).

Art and design made by goldenskald!

The Gwyll's feathered mane flowed down its back as the creature emerged from the murky water, starting from the phthalo horntips, paper-thin translucent wings shimmering as the droplets of water splashed down to rejoin the main body of the lake. The fabric of their robe—likely enchanted, a twice-dyed wavespun teal green—seemed to come out of the water as airful as ever, dry, as did his feathers, pruned carefully into a wavy sea of plumage.

The canopy of trees whispered, rustling in the wind, leaves falling down to float candidly on the surface of the water. Ripples sprung out from where the faerie emerged, thin mouth spreading into a shark-toothed smile, bioluminescent markings on his face shining in the morning dark, reflecting in the vial of liquid tied securely around his neck. The Gwyll sighed - no visitors today, not ever - and emerged fully, setting their sights on the often-trodden woodland path.

He rather liked the location, a small clearing at a lifeless crossroad, with only grass and thick-trunked trees for company, where he could lie in wait for today's prey of amusement. This path was special, quite so, for it was necessary enough for many to take yet not nearly as popular enough for a traveler to meet someone on their journey. Well, aside from him, but they did not quite count themselves as an encounter one would want to have - inwardly frolicking in amusement and hidden glee whenever a dragon would jump back in surprise upon the sight of the faerie, the rhythm of their rapidly beating heart and stammered speech only making the smirk on the Gwyll's face wider. It wasn't hard from then on—he'd push them backwards, intuitively, into the brush, off the path until they'd either break out of the enamor and run off, or start to follow him out of their own will - and then he'd be gone, the dragons led astray with nobody but themselves to really blame, wondering whether the encounter was real at all.

They aren't cruel, they like to think - sharp ears picking up on the slightest sounds, the ethereal creature has only so much to do before toying with those unfortunate enough to take the routes in its forest in a time of its boredom. Their piercing, unnatural eyes, and malicious speech, while sounding sharp, snaking its way into the victims' souls to awaken their deepest fears, is a facade, really just a tool to toy with the helpless dragons standing in the Gwyll's way. To them the hauntings are just pranks, some action to fill an everlasting, tenuous life.

Now, the consequences of a dragon getting stranded in the forest after an encounter with them? Ha.

What does he suppose he do about that?

↑ (The above story was written by gay4dragonz).