Seyris

Under Construction

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RYfKiKYNHv4

A mysterious figure, draped in silks, redolent with the perfume of crushed petals, the sharp, hot rasp of scales and the flickering tongue of the red-tailed boa he carries. Sightless eyes, forever weeping; a crown of writhing magic, swirling, pulsing, foreseeing. This is what visitors see when they look upon Seyris, a blind bard whose songs are haunting and desperately familiar, the notes reverberating in their souls long after he is gone from their sight.

He moves with the slow grace of a dancer, lazily, almost predatory, like the serpent coiled around his limbs, a companion who uses her eyes to see things that others do not, a landscape of heat and smell. He sees things, too; the past, the future, the present, interwoven and intermingling, always the same, never the same. The only clarity comes when he sings, talons plucking at a lute carved from the heartwood of a drowned tree, a crescendo of sound that, despite its lack of known words, has soothed the dying and rallied the living, has summoned water in a waterless desert, has sent dozens of dragons reeling as they each remember a specific time and place where they last felt happy, afraid, loved, feared, gutted, effervescent. He plays them as easily as he does his lute, and they never pause to wonder why.

Some may say he is weak, but he knows better. His strength is not his own; his strength is an army of dragons he sings into battle.

by SeaCrest