#syri

my god oc Syrillium, the Dream Weaver. Slowly getting back into the swing of art

if you have any questions about any of my ocs, dont be shy! I might even draw a response with em~

(edit; sorry the quality looks so poor idk how to fix it)

art and Syri (c) @endlessshower

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.

i enjoy drawing this god so much-- so have another Syri piece~

a lil revamp pf Syrillium, the Dream Weaver

god of dreams, and creator of the new Dreaming Age. He’s very shy, and rarely is seen outside of the city he lives in among the Dream Elves. He meditates there, and weaves dreams upon his massive loom.

art and Syri (c) @endlessshower

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