Amidst the tranquil embrace of a frigid glade, where the whispers of a gellid river weave through the air, there dwells Nysa, the water nymph. She emerges from the crystal-clear waters with a radiant innocence, her petite form exuding an otherworldly charm. Her skin, a soft pale blue with a shimmering iridescence, suggests the gentle kiss of moonlight on water. With rosy cheeks and eyes like pools of liquid sapphire reflecting boundless curiosity, she possesses an ethereal grace. Her hair flows like cascading waterfalls, and her laughter rings like a babbling brook. Adorned in garments of dew-kissed leaves and woven river reeds, Nysa blends seamlessly with her watery realm. Standing at a diminutive five feet, she emanates a playful aura, embodying the tundra's frozen beauty and the untamed purity of wild places.
Nysa was born when a frozen slab of ice thawed into a trickling rivulet between snowcapped northern mountains. Bound to the burgeoning body of water, her spirit matured over the centuries as the gellid brook grew into a none-too-shabby stream. It was not until her 300th birthday that her river produced enough power to mold her spirit into near-human form. Nineteen years later, her awareness of and connection to nature is unquestionable. But for all that depth, and in spite of all that potential power, her mind is far less mature.
She is a bubbling cauldron of spiritual intellectus having recently acquired corporeal form--but with all the wisdom of a nineteen year old who grew up alone in a river.
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On that fateful day, the Aeromancer chose to go out and enjoy some time for himself. One of his favorite places to explore was anything with water, whether it be lakes, oceans, lagoons, or rivers, he always had a soft spot for aquatic environments because of another oceanic being. His choice of location was the same river Nyrsa would be roaming. Thankfully he came prepared: A special potion was used to regulate his body temperature and prevent hypothermia or frostbite, even in ice-cold waters.
Shortly after arriving at the shoreline, the onyx-haired man set aside a few bags and placed down a towel. In moments his boots and winter clothing were all removed, wearing a black wetsuit underneath. While this was far from adequate, the potion would protect him against the extremely low temperatures.
Now barefoot, the Warlock approached the shoreline's edge, slowly but surely dipping his right foot in first. "Shit this water is cold!!" With a flustered smile, a profanity was said aloud, he needed to get used to this. It didn't take him long to begin walking into those waters, keeping both arms elevated once his waist was in. That whole time, he was wincing while the potion's essence created an invisible, insulating barrier across his body, but he could still feel some of it, but not a dangerous amount.
Then he noticed it.
His gold and black eyes caught something in the corner of his vision, a figure from what little was seen. "Is that a lady?..." He wondered.
Curious on who or what this was, Gleeon dove under the surface, kicking both legs and using both arms to propel himself through those waters. Using his wind magic, he conjured up an air bubble around his own head, which enabled him to stay underwater for much longer periods of time. The black dragon in disguise swam across toward the direction of the water Nympth.
If said being were to notice him coming, he had a few abnormal features that would set him apart from an ordinary human: Black scleras in his eyes, gold, serpentine irises, draconic talon-like hands with sharp nails on each digit, and two horns protruding from his head that were bent back, hinting at what he really was beneath his mostly mortal, two-legged facade.