Syrilium, the Dream Weaver

Syri had not been in the caravan long, but he did know many kind faces filled its ranks, and that went doubly so for Ven and Argo. Syri himself was still his shy self. The caravan came to a rest, and he was surprised when he was invited to the strange machine for tea. Ven’s smile was kind, and Syri mirrored his sheepishly, but with much warmth. “Hello Ven, it’s good to see you.” He spoke in a soft tone, much like elves.

Syri walked by his side, his tail trailing lazily, and his larger wing like hands had no hint of the large hidden eyes in the palms, they were closed most of the time. “Oh that’s wonderful, I do love tea, very much in fact. I’m glad you caught me before i made some for myself. Truly? I would enjoy a vanilla or a lemon lavender?” His dreams had left those tastes in his mouth. Feelings, memories... He shook himself from his deep thought, remembering he was with people.

Syri’s lips parted in awe of the space, the mismatched style much to his liking. He enjoyed bright colors, smells textures... he took it all in, so different from what he was used too. This space was made, lived in, and beautiful because of it existed outside of himself, and he adored it. Syri’s ears pricked in a sudden start when Ven shouted, his dark fur raising slightly, but it quickly flattened as he put a hand to his chest and chuckled gently at himself. “Oh excuse me I was so taken by your home... It’s alright! I’m easily startled.”

He flushed and brushed his purple locks from his face, the eyes on his palms slowly cracking open, as if gently testing if they were safe to do so out of the sun. They closed quickly if anyone made eye contact. Syri met Argo’s gaze, smiling in greeting, sharp teeth hidden behind dark lips for a unique smile. “Hello Argo. The tea smells like a dream...” Indeed, his mouth watered, very happy to taste the selection they had. The being gingerly took a seat, making sure not to scuff anything with his hooves and wrapped his tail neatly about himself.

“It’s alright, You have been busily tending to other new friends, so many new faces. I’m happy to be here now.” His ears pricked up at the mention of lavender. “Yes I’ll take that, one of my favorites.” He made his tea with cream and sugar, but only a touch of sweet. He loved lots of cream. He stirred and admired how the cream made the tea a shade of pastel purple.

Syri answered his questions, gentle laughs peppered in, tasting the tea and savoring how it made him feel in the wake of his nightly dream walks. He said he had been in the caravan for no more then a few weeks, though time was an odd thing to him at the moment. He enjoyed string instruments, mostly the lute, and had interests in learning to play some day himself. His skill for most things only existed in dreams, and he joked that if they all dreamed together, he could play for him sometime. Syri would want wings of stained glass, like the kind the Dream Elves so often made and he admired.

Personal History

His birth was violent.

He was created deep within an underground catacomb, a place hidden from the gods. A cult of mages had been studying the divine in secret, away from prying eyes. it took many years, but they soon gathered blood, scales, hair- anything they could get their hands on that the gods had left on earth. Little is known about these people, for after this experiment, they would never be heard from again.

They placed all they had found, among other building ingredients, into a magical forge. The result was Syrilium, a new divine. But his magical blow back was too strong, more strong then they had prepared for. He was confused, disoriented, and in his magical haze, could not understand the devastating effects his powers were having on the people around him. As a last resort, one of the mages evoked a powerful fail-safe spell, losing their life in order to cast it strong enough. He was put to sleep, and the door to the chamber was sealed.

Decades passed. He slept. The nature of his abilities shifted into that of dreams, walking in them, living in them, learning and watching. He knew he was dreaming, crafting spaces, shutting away the painful memories of his creation. He did not want to think of those he had hurt, or why he existed at all.

Then something changed in the outside world. The Old Gods fell into slumber, some even left the world entirely. Noctis, one of the divine who watched and made sure Syri was kept asleep, decided to wake him. He awoke, and it created the start of a new age. His consciousness, and the raw power of it, changed everything, even how magic functioned. Old things were lost, and new things emerged. He was now left a godling, despite being quite old, he was rather young among the ones that were left. Noctis bid him to travel, to seek himself before he took mantle as the deity of dreams among the Sunset Court.

He speaks very little about any of this. He desires to keep his origins a secret, and to be treated as but an ordinary traveler. He is happy to speak about his People, the Dream Elves, and his craft. He has been traveling ever since, and stumbled upon the caravan. He has regrets about the people he hurt, and the world he changed so dramatically. But that’s exactly why he is here, to accept himself, and learn about being well... awake.

Introducing Syrilium, or Syri for short. His formal title is the Weaver

Syrilium is a mysterious entity of dreams, who has only recently awoken from an eternal slumber, and is now traveling the worlds. He has joined the caravan to find fulfillment, and new places to explore, new people to meet, to create more artful dreams.

He can weave tapestries of dreams, and can, with permission, weave your most precious dreams to keep for a small fee. He is shy at first, well spoken and poetically romantic. He is gentle and creative, and adores sweets and most foods. And most of all, he likes to dream. He’ll never miss going to bed on time, if he can help it. (and once hes asleep hes out for good)

Syri is about 7′5″

He travels on foot, (or hoof) and can use magic to travel large distances, but if you offer him a ride on your wagon he will often oblige.

He has a Dream elf form as well, and he uses it to better fit in places built for smaller people, though hes more comfortable in this form here.

He dislikes bitter tastes, bad smells, and cruelness.

His age is uncertain, though he has been around for a very long time.

@solarcaravan