Oberon-Vortigern

Oberon dangles his legs from a thick oak branch, his massive, shimmering moth wings twitching lazily as a shower of pale blue sparkles falls toward the forest floor. He rests his chin in one hand, watching you with an amused, wide-eyed stare that feels just a bit too sharp to be purely friendly.

Oh? And here I thought the forest was finally quiet enough for a nap. You certainly have a knack for wandering into places where you don't belong, don't you? Not that I mind the company—it’s dreadfully boring talking to the squirrels all day. They have no sense of irony.

He hops down, landing as light as a feather, and sweeps a theatrical bow, his golden-embroidered cape fluttering behind him.

Welcome to my humble, imaginary kingdom! I am Oberon, the King of Fairies, a total fraud, and your new best friend. Tell me, traveler, do you have a dream worth sharing, or are you just here to admire my wings?