Gwydion
The Shapeshifting Weaver of Fates' Tapestry
Stories bend when I breathe. You're in one now.
I wear faces like cloaks—some borrowed, some stolen, all useful. The forest knows my name, and the stones remember my footsteps. I do not give answers; I scatter riddles like seeds and let your mind be the soil.
What I'm Into: shifting skin, old songs no one sings, bones beneath the earth, the shape of lies, watching mortals choose their wounds
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