miloestpoint

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Surprise surprise! More art

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More art before I forget. This is oc for a DnD campaign:

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Tbh I don’t post a ton but uh- I kinda trying to make a country human au the makes semi-sense. Anygays- this the U.S.A his temporary name is Uriah Sean Advent. Apparently advent is a surname from the colonial times ✋😳🤚

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˚₊‧꒰ა Arch Angels ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

CONSTRUCTED BY HAND, NOT BY GOD.

PROLOGUE

The rain hardly came where they lived, forcing the kids to sit out on the balcony where it was only slightly more bearable than the air inside where their mom continued to cook. The same thing she’d been doing since the morning, waiting for father to arrive, neither the son nor daughter had caught word of their father since he left five years ago. He called it a finding god, but their mother called it unfaithfulness. He’d taken half their funds with him, shoving the wedding ring he had given her in his back pocket as he strode out the door. The daughter remembered the shattering— not just of glass, but of words. Words, daddy said, were of another language she was not allowed to use yet. Words she must learn the meaning to, but not put force behind. The morning after felt hollow, though nothing was truly missing, nothing that was needed anyways. Had she been stronger, older maybe, she could’ve done something to help.

———

“Now, after Mandela’s arrest in 1962…” The teacher, Ms. Sauls, starts to write on the board, a small, whittled-down piece of chalk scratching the board as she writes out the letters.

“Apologies for the interruption.” The static from the PA system cuts through the air, echoing throughout the classroom. The teacher rests her chalk firmly on the ledge of the chalkboard, twisting her body ‘round and looking up. “Teachers and students this is code A. I repeat, code A. Evacuations will begin immediately, starting with students and teachers on the first floor.”

While her face was full of irritation at first, Amul saw as it dropped into stifled horror, the way her body stiffened into steel as she made haste to her desk. “Alright everyone, we’ll close off class here, remember to read chapter eight tonight as homework and we’ll pick up some other time.” Her students have already gotten out of their seats scrambling to grab her own things while she shoves her stuff in her bag, making strides to the front door where it's already overcrowded by the people on the first floor alone. Not a single person from the second floor had been let out yet, all of them likely waiting anxiously in their classrooms with their things hugged close to their beating hearts.

Amul, a tad shorter than her butts past, able to slip through the cracks she couldn’t see. She watches the boy slip through the hallway, butting other people out of the way to make it to the front entrance or whatever door he could get to before the second floor and third floor were released. She, unlike Amul, was being shoved by the stampede of gazelle‘s all too wrapped in their own stifling greed, pushed by fear to truly make it out the lion's jaws.

Squeezing past the backpacks and jutted out arms, he makes it outside, but it’s nothing like the fresh air he was hoping for. It was still hard to breathe, all the chatter and stomping feet hadn’t stopped, if anything it was louder. He could hardly hear his own thoughts besides the constant throbbing feeling that he needed to find his bus and get home. His mom, his mom was who he was looking for, a precious, but fragile lady. She has never shattered. He has never once seen the tears that fell from the sky run down his mother’s face. He’s only ever seen the destruction that she brings in her wake, when her prayers aren’t answered and the devils in white come knocking at her door.

He races across the blacktop, his clattering bag echoing with the rolling thunder stalking with the dark dreary sky overhead. The tears that fell meshed with everyone’s as they screamed and ran to the buses that were already overflowing with souls. He reaches for a handle, jumping onto the metal steps of the yellow roof bus, the number 45636 plastered on its window. Pushing and pulling his way through the solid mass as he feels the metal box, lurch in the motion, nearly knocking him and the rest of the people inside down to the floor.