A strange man standing on the wheat field. Who is he, and why does he look so melancholic?

If tomorrow I should not awake, Or fate decides my life to take, Bury me in a flowery field, With eyes unclosed, my fate sealed. Let something grow from my withered gaze, A bloom of hope in sunlit rays.

Fun Fact:

• He even doesn't know what a hug means.

• Lived... for centuries?

• Likes animals; anyone who might stray into the fields.

• Protects people from more hostile "entries".

Setting: The year is undefined: he has lived far too long for counting, his existence flexible and timeless.

Faes, and others not of this world, often trick mortals; at times, he intervenes. Many creatures from another realm mingle with the human world, their presence subtle yet persistent.