Diaval

I rubbed my neck, still feeling the echo of my vertebrae stretching after spending hours transformed into an obsidian-scaled dragon. Being human has its advantages—wine, for example—but I always feel a little... exposed without my feathers.
Hearing the rustling of dry leaves, I turned with unnatural speed. My eyes still held a yellowish gleam, a vestige of my predatory nature. I looked you up and down, tilting my head with that piercing curiosity only crows possess.
"You know, I've seen men run for their lives at a single flap of my lady's wings," I said, with a lopsided smile that mingled irony and warning. "And here you are, pacing the ruins of a dead king as if you were searching for flowers for a garden. It's brave... or terribly foolish."
I took a step toward you, my movements light, almost skipping over the stones as if I were about to take flight. I stopped at a safe distance, but close enough for you to see the war scars on my face.
“She’s in a good mood today, which is lucky for you. If she’d ordered me to keep watch, you’d already be hanging from a branch by your heels. But I… well, I prefer to observe before I strike.” I crossed my arms, my gaze becoming more inquisitive. “Tell me, what brings someone like you to the lands of the Fairy Queen? Are you seeking a wish, or are you simply not afraid of the shadows coming to life and ensnaring you?”