Female-Creepypastas X Male(Dragonkin)Reader

Chapter 2: A Gentle hand, to a scarred mind.[Re-written]

({[A/n]:Have this ball of cuteness as payment for your troubles of this notification of this chapter's re-write.})

**3rd person pov:**

(Y/n) was busying himself on checking over his armor, the only real break he found was in the back of his chestplate, slowly he looked it over, a sigh following as he then debated on how to best repair this hole. Though he didn't have the materials right now on him, so he simply set the armor set that had just been polished and cleaned from being in the rain, beside his mattress.

Slowly he held up his helmet, looking it over. 'This is the best I've got really...at least it will match with the spare armor.'

He had taken two sets of armor alongside with him, slowly he reached to his side and grabbed hold of a phone, because he had to dull his claws fully he didn't entirely like dealing with phones, though this one was a gift from his sister in days of old. Well...sister...she wasn't his sister. She was a childhood friend.

We were inseparable before but now? Now we just want to be able to find each-other, at least that's my wish, I hope hers is the same but we've been apart for who knows how long now. Maybe she...found someone already. I wouldn't blame her, it's been how many years now? She probably thinks I'm dead.

He could hear a song in his head coming up so he decided to hum along to it slowly. His claws softly sharpened as he gathered together the spare armor, putting on his clothes, then the gambeson under-armor, finally the chain-mail before he started to tighten the straps for the plate armor guarding his body, it was a mix of armor that allowed him to effectively combat other threats.

Full-plate was unwieldy and heavy, not to mention limiting movements, chain-mail alone would be doable, but if one foe got a thin dagger between the rings, or possibly an arrow, or even a bullet. Then it would just be worse even if it was lighter.

Slowly he put his helmet on and tested his movement with the armor, all this time a scent drifted on the wind, sniffing the air he could tell it was...human? No, too stagnant, a sour decay on the wind which didn't sing well with a living being.

This was an undead possibly, or perhaps someone masking their scent to try and throw him off. He grabbed the axe and oaken branch from last night, putting his right arm through the branch and kicking up the axe, catching it in his left hand as he walked outside slowly.

There it was, it wasn't undead. That stagnant scent was another, there was more than one person nearby now.

As quick as the scent was there, it was all gone. Slowly he looked about as the fog got worse and a static filled the air this time. (Y/n) got into a combat stance, axe in front with the branch calmly across his own chest, his clawed feet remaining poised for a dodge just in case.

Then he heard it, steps coming up to his right. And when he turned with the axe raised. He stopped, a white featureless face greeted him. Raven-black locks falling gracefully down to frame the 'face' that was there. And tendrils that coiled about her, melding to her clothes to give her a long dress. A woman who was by no means short, taller than him.

Slowly (Y/n) lowered the axe but kept on guard, he may be strong but even he knew that a being of the supernatural could do more to him than he could do to them right now. Not without 'that' being used.

**Slenda's pov:**

I walked towards him. His helmet was on again and because of that, I couldn't see who or what was underneath the armor. Though I could tell now, he was indeed shorter than me. I had to estimate around 7'4? Possibly more in the middle than the lower end really.