Mildew

Mildew, a thin whitish coating consisting of minute fungal hypha, growing on plants or damp organic material such as paper or leather. A description which at first glance couldn't be farther from the truth when it came to his namesake. His form while still fungal was made of deep blacks and reds, with only a small inkling of gray, nothing so bright as to be considered white nor remotely like mildew. But it was his name for a good reason at that, his skin was a moist leather and his scales were the fungus. The underside a purity of white only visible when he should take flight, giving the bloody red scales a lining of snow like colors.

His namesake spoke true of his personality, his character, who he is and will ever be, a fungus. Growing and thriving wherever his roots may place, drifting across the globe like runaway spores to settling and grow where the most generalist of life couldn't even begin to seed. Yet his rotting claws find their roots and dig into the most rancid soil to the coldest snow, in between harsh stones and jagged crystals. It is there he stays, ever wandering, ever thriving in an ever-changing world where only he can change faster. Adapting to a world yet to be, living despite plagues yet to sprout or calamities yet to raze the globe. His horns long and ripples like coral, his hair nothing but an entanglement of roots, he would survive all there is and ever will be.

That is Mildew, that is his being.