Serain was of flesh, once. How long ago was that night, when he'd stood beneath the green aeroplankton aurora and met a strange creature who called himself Gwynn? A chieftain and fellow warrior, he'd offered a friendly sparring match. Who would refuse the chance to battle such a strange opponent?

After they spent their strength, beads of sweat shimmering in the aurora's light, Gwynn bade him come to drink to their newfound friendship. In the pleasant, dreamy haze only fae rum punch could conjure, Serain thought nothing of Gwynn's desire to feel his strong muscle and proud belly. Nor was he perturbed by the stillness that came at the wooly chieftain's touch; though he was frozen in stone, unable to speak through a mouth caught in a drunken grin, he didn't feel it was an imprisonment.

Nor did the centuries that passed as Gwynn's guest in the garden weigh on him; being a statue was peaceful. Serene. And Gwynn seemed only to grow fonder of him, the tenderness of his kisses and caresses whenever he visited his wolf never lessened with time.

One day, Gwynn would release him from this state, and send him back home, not a day having passed there since his departure. But for now, Serain was content.

Inspired by an RP with DigitalPotato, I felt the need to draw this handsome berserker-turned-wolf in Gwynn's garden.