White one transformation 15
The White One is aptly named, of course. Its fur is the color of polished ivory, shining in the sunlight as it moves with dignified purpose through the willow tree marshes which it lives in, and when it opens its mouth, vivid cerulean flesh and rows of pearly teeth are revealed. But there is more to it than its mere coloring.
It strongly resembles a cervidae in body shape, with two pairs of elegant legs and silky feathering at the ankles, such as a friesian horse, and small hooves. It also has a slender, curved neck and strong skull with a Roman nose, boasting pupiless blank eyes like two full moons on either side of its angled head. It has a large nose which often collects dew in the early morning, and its tail is dog-like and heavy, with long fur that sweeps the ground and is often drenched in marsh water. When it feels threatened, the tail raises up high, and it will let out a low bugling noise to warn whatever worries it to stay far away.
Perhaps what makes it the most impressive, however, is the massive rack of horns on its head. Most like those of an elk, they branch elegantly in many different directions and are covered in soft velvet. They additionally sport exotic rose-like flowers both blue and white, which drape down towards the ground on thornless, leafy green vines, and are rooted within the antlers themselves. The flowers appear to feed solely off of the horn’s velvet, which is speculated to be highly nutritious (unlike that of earth’s cervidae), and do not grow anywhere else on earth. They do wilt and fall off during autumn and winter, leaving the White One with antlers wrapped in eerie, gnarled brown vegetation, but bloom in early spring again to once more bring fragrant beauty to their host.
The White One is a gorgeous being, but its beauty sadly comes at a shattering price. It was once said that its eyes bring death— that their pure emptiness brought madness to even the most strong-willed of men. For thousands of years, it was falsely hailed as a demonic entity which only sought to destroy those who wronged it; it showed up in mythology, art, and writing alike throughout the ages. It was constantly attacked and its territory destroyed, nonetheless always escaping moments before death and bounding away on fleet hooves to heal from its wounds. It lived in terror, for it refused to fight back with any fatal blow. Desperate for humanity to not seek its life, it covered its eyes in a scrap of light gray fabric torn from the clothing of a poor woman who had fallen into the marshes which it lived in and drowned. Blindfolded, it was no longer capable of sight, and to this day, it wanders its own land with practiced confidence but a crushed spirit, not daring to remove its bonds for fear of attack.
It is said that if one were to enter the White One’s marshes when the moon was full, they might catch a glimpse of the mighty creature standing on a hill beneath one of the many willows, its blindfold blowing gently in a southern wind, and gaze upon it as it peers at a star-spattered sky which it will never truly see again after humanity’s cruel violence towards it.
Do you hear that? It is the White One’s bugling call, declaring to all that it will stand for truth until the day our sun overhead finally dies.