#Atleion

[atleion]

(( I finally did it, guys, I finished something! Bad jokes aside, I learned some new coloring shortcuts that cut my workload in half and make me a happy man. and here’s Atleion with his now super-crazy-long-hair. Originally I did the thing I always do and shifted his eyes to the side, because, fft. But his eyes don’t work so good anymore and he spends more time staring forward than in any particular direction, so this felt more accurate to current events.

And my incomplete line-art and rough-shadows for his reference sheet I’m working on. He’s overdue for a new one. It’ll show up ... Soon (tm) ))

[gnoxian-rage-blog]

Alright so I got a bit of a story for y’all. Recently Rokk was captured by these young Granok who think the Dominion is right. Here’s what’s happening while he’s imprisoned.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rokk sat in the dark room. It was pitch black, except for a dim light above the sturdy chair he was strapped by metal to. They had stripped him of his clothing, all except for his fateful camo pants. He looked gruff and worn, with dirt around his old stone body.

“Slag off. You ain’t Granok. You ain’t real Granok. Traitahs.” Rokk grunted to nobody in particular. Though he knew they were watching him. Listening to him. He suddenly roared out in the room, with no response to him.

“YOU AIN’T REAL GRANOK! GNOX BE ASHAMED OF YAH!”

“Gnox… Be ashamed of yah..”

Rokk said quietly, before quieting back up in his chair. He thought of older times, back on Gnox itself.

He thought of Kella, his fiance. The two young Granok spinning in circles, laughing together. Him making a steak for his significant other. The two dancing and singing songs together. The day they were about to get married.

The day she died.

Rokk closed his eyes. He tried to remember the good times, but he simply couldn’t. He couldn’t get his mind off the loss of all the people in his life. He kept talking to himself, in a sad manner.

“Why them… Why the hell would you kill them n’ not me…. WHY NOT ME!”

Rokk continued roaring off into the cell, as he was sure as hell that there were microphones, or atleast a guard watching over his pitch black prison.

“WHY! YOU SHOULDA’ KILLED ME, YOU DOMMIE BASTAHDS! LET ME GO N’ I’LL SHOW YAH’ WHAT A TRUE GRANOK LOOKS LIKE! AH’LL FIGHT EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU BASTAHDS!”

Every last one of them. A single tear rolled down RokkVell’s cheek, as he shook his head. Why not him, he thought? HE was the one that ran off, sacrificing himself for the group. HE was the one who muttered his goodbyes on the comm system.

When RokkVell was first brought into their prison, he was wounded and unconscious. When he woke up, he attempted to break his way out of his metal restraints. He finally settled down, and they talked to him over a radio system. They were scared to go into a room with him.

The Dominion-alligned Granok said to Rokk in ancient Gnoxian through a radio in the room,

“Your unit is dead. They died by a bomb run from our soldiers. They died like Cowards.”

Rokk sat there, silent. Stoic. Solid. He said nothing, but he showed the look of a man who lost everything. FCON was everything.

Glade. The Aurin who always pushed his buttons. Who always argued with him. Who saved his life.

Melanna. The Sergeant who was with them since the beginning. The engineer fixed his eye on multiple occasions. She was a solid friend to Rokk, which is something that not many get to say.

Nisha and Hawk… These people were always very kind to Rokk. Hawk was always up for telling jokes with Rokk, or playing pranks, or simply talking as men. Nisha always put up with Rokk’s bullshittery. When he trampled over the Arborian flowers, Nisha still stood by him.

Brigid. The soldier was always there for Rokk, no matter what. She was always down to earth and calm when nobody else was. She was a friend to Rokk.

Hagroth. His Gnoxian bro. Rokk thinks of Hagroth like a brother of his own. A solid friend. One of the best. They always attempted to one-up each other, but it was always in good fun. And now he’s gone, too.

    Atleion.

Out of every single person on that mission, the person he cared most about was Atleion. The young Aurin boy, who Rokk somehow knew since Arboria. Atleion was Rokk’s second chance at saving someone… And he blew it.

He looked upon Atleion as a son of his own. Rokk felt a sense of protection to the boy, but this time he wasn’t there to protect him. Rokk had no purpose to keep going anymore. Atleion WAS his purpose to keep going. He was the only family Rokk felt he had left, but not anymore. Rokk has no family anymore

Or so he thinks…

Rokk kept sitting in the room, cursing under his breath in Gnoxian. He occasionally talked to the microphone in the room that he was SURE was there.

“Ye’ kids know this chair won’t hold me. I’ll break out and kill the lot of you. One by one, bullet by bullet. Hit by hit. I’ll kill every single one of you, an’ then kill some more. You bastahds can keep me in this cell, but it won’t help you.”

“You ain’t safe.”

Rokk muttered, before going to sleep in his chair. He dreamt of Gnox, yet again. Except this time, he dreamt of it burning. Of the gunshots, and the yelling. He dreamt of Kella bleeding in his arms. He dreamt of his tears, mixing with her blood.

Rokk slept in the pitch black room. Remembering every single face he lost.

Every single face...

[deeafrotailmisstress]

I keep seeing Jazz's nicknames on my dash, so I'm DYING to know what she'd do for Atleion if you're still taking asks for these. The nicknames are brilliant~

AH Thanks a bunch haha, I’d love to try for this little bean!

Atleion: Sherrif Atty, Lightenin’ Bug, Atty da Blueberry, Ringo Kid (an old comic book reference ;3), Atalin Skywalker, Firefly and Sparky Atty.…I feel like Atty would just be the go-to nickname for Jazz xDThanks for the asks! :D Meme from this @atty-of-the-stars

[atleion]

(( I’ve wanted this top forever, and now it’s mine. Ho-ho! 

I’d also like to take a moment to appreciate that sleek Aurin Idle Animation, because that casual look to the side an alert prey-animal posture just melts my little ol’ heart.))

[atleion]

(( I’ve been all depresso for the last couple of months, and on top of being sick, it’s just unbelievably miserable. :| Winter hates me. My whinging aside, FFXIV was down for maintenance today, interrupting the flow of my building, so I decided to try and be at least sorta productive and draw some lazy headshots.  Here’s Miqo’te Atleion, with his ridiculous feather braids.  And some screenshots (a few pre-remodeling, as I’ve been remodeling my lower floor / personal home part of the building ) of my Cafe / Home in the Mists on Mateus, the Everstar Grove Cafe, which is open for service on Tuesdays at 5:00 PM PST for anyone who plays FFXIV and wants a tiny place to sit and have some coffee in a garden-themed atmosphere. Atty baristas there with FFXIV’s version of Naero, the old-aurin man from his Arboria stories. ))

[atleion]

(( Now that I’ve done my mourning for Wildstar and feel productive again: I’m still quietly working on finishing these memory sequences about Atleion’s childhood leading up to the Ravaging of Arboria, because I am still a nerd, and I like exploring his upbringing. This is Story #3, and part 1 of 2 of a particular story. The next one coming up continues directly off of this one, for anyone who likes to read these~ I’ve been writing relevant memories in order. It’s a loose narrative structure, I know, but they all connect. C’:

I’ll finish a picture someday ... Someday. *wistfully looks into the distance of sketches and lined pictures yet uncolored*. In the meantime, a quick sketch of Atleion when he wasn’t an incredibly troubled boy putting himself in too many dangerous situations. I’ll save the proper story header for next time~ ))

The gentle tickle of grass against his skin was like a warm embrace. He could feel each tiny gust of wind drifting through the forest. Like some great beast's breath, it washed over him in steady waves, always carrying the fragrant scent of the woods.

Atleion could have laid upon the ground forever, basking in the glow of the sun peaking through the branches. It was calm, quiet, as the forest often was. The serenade of distant animal calls, and the dabble of the river rushing from the far off mountains, lulled him to a drowsy near-slumber.

He may well have fallen asleep had it not been for a sudden weight dropped onto his small body. It knocked the breath from his lungs, eliciting a sharp wheeze.

"Come on, lazy! If we don't keep moving, we're never going to get back before Shaderoot notices."

Atleion's eyes, dark as soot, opened up wide. The world around him was a brightened blur of spire-like trees stretching up into a patchwork canopy. However, placed squarely within his view, was something quite different from a tree.

It was Elyia, adorned in her snowy white shawl, and her finely knit tunic. Her dusky skin caught the shadows of the branches, and her silvery gaze twinkled with the light of adventure.

The weight upon his stomach returned, more forceful and insistent, as Elyia shook him with her foot. She waved a hand above his face for good measure, then took a step back. Like a clock's pendulum, her woolen white tail swayed to a steady, unheard beat.

"It's not much further. Promise!" She beamed. Without another word, she spun on her heels and disappeared from his field of view.

Atleion caught his breath. With a smile spread over his face, he sat up and adjusted his thick poncho over his small frame. Blue, white, and elaborate, it carried the swirling patterns of old decorative symbols common to his people.

"It was only a minute!", Atleion called out. On his feet, he dusted grass off of his knees. He shook his head, sending the unruly mop of curls upon it into a frenzy. His lush purple hair tangled up, right to the tip of his ponytail. With one forceful swing, his tail dislodged the rest of the loose grass clinging to his fur, and he scampered off after his companion.

"A minute! You almost fell asleep." Elyia protested. She paused by the edge of the slow moving river in front of them. Her bare toes touched the water, curling against the soft dirt.

Though Atleion opened his mouth to protest such an assertion, he knew her to be right. It was all he could do to offer her a sheepish smile when she looked back to him, for he had delayed their journey long enough.

"Got you~" Elyia chirped. Her voice carried like a lofty bird's.

Without further warning, she grasped his hand within her own and set off once more. Her feet nimbly touched the large stones protruding from the river's currents. One after the other, she hopped along them, tugging Atleion in tow, until they safely reached the banks of the other side. Even as Atleion stumbled, sliding into the water, she never once relinquished him to the currents.

His fingers wrapped about Elyia's hand, holding it tightly. He could feel the racing of his heart within his chest. It rose like a leaf on the wind, carried higher the faster the two of them moved through the forest's dense depths.

Before long, the two young Aurin came to a stop. Each of their ears rose high, pointed forward at the silence to surround them. Not even the call of beasts rang within this part of the forest, nor the howl of the wind. It was as if the world had frozen in time.

Stretched before them was a tunnel of foliage and stone. The thicket appeared to go on forever, shadowy, dark, and foreboding. The branches of the brush reached down like monstrous teeth, gnashing at the moss ridden boulders to crowd their roots.

Atleion's toes dug into the pine mould and dirt beneath them. The claw like nails at the ends of his toes raked the ground. His grip on Elyia's hand grew tighter, in a vain attempt to mask the tremble of his limbs.

Elyia's fingers laced with Atleion's. She offered him a warm smile. Her long white tail swung behind her, brushing into his playfully.

Her eyes bore a certitude matched only by the fluidity of her steps. She hesitated not a moment longer before beginning down the thicket encased pathway. All the while, she gently herded Atleion forward, guiding him silently into the belly of the beastly path.

Atleion's thickly furred ears pressed against his head. His tail had ceased any semblance of motion, dragging limply behind him and along the ground. One step after the other, he felt his feet sinking into the layers of old pine needles blended with cool dirt. As he looked down, he could see the trail the two of them left; it was a line of small footprints, overlapping every few beats.

"Ely, we shoul---" Atleion began.

"Shhhh."

Elyia's grasp on his hand tightened. It was faint, but situated just in front of them was a genial glow of light. She followed it as a butterfly drawn to a flower.

Though it lasted only a few minutes, Atleion thought it an eternity. He held his breath until they passed from the shadows.

At once, he was greeted with blinding brightness. His eyes squinted. He reached up to shelter them, blinking several times to adjust to the new visage.

"Isn't it pretty?"

Elyia's voice broke the silence.

Atleion lowered his hand. At a gradual pace, his ears began to rise up, right to the very hairs at their tips.

The thicket the two had traveled through had given birth to a clearing, encircled by centuries old verdune trees that stood guard. They were diligent soldiers, intent on protecting the contents of their station. Like a pond of silk, white flowers rose from the grasses. Some grew taller than others, but they all held in bloom. The sun's light brought a twinkle to them. Perhaps most stunning, however, was the rising stone within the center of the clearing. Its surface was clear as glass, reflecting the scene around it like a steady pond.

Atleion's grip on Elyia's hand loosened. His fingers fell from hers.

"Told you it was cool." Elyia leaned over to whisper in his ear. She bound forward, gently placing her feet between the flowers to avoid crushing them. With the grace of a fawn, she moved upon her toes. Once she reached the reflective stone, she spun back around. Her long white hair caught in the breeze, swaying outward. "You can thank me later."

Atleion held few words. He carefully tried to follow the trail his companion had taken, sliding his small feet into place in spaces the flowers had not taken root. He spun as he walked, twisting to catch every angle within his view.

"How'd you even find this?" Atleion laughed. His gaze whipped towards Elyia, and with it came his hair. The waves of lavender tipped purple dangled within his eyes.

Elyia giggled. She pressed a finger to her lips and winked once. "That would be a secret."

The girl turned to face the reflective stone, peering into it. Her hands touched its surface, fingertips pressed firmly to it.

"Really?" Atleion scoffed. Even as he had, a smile remained on his face. He'd reached the tall stone, and once he looked closely to it, he could see his own reflection, staring back at him with doeish eyes and soft features.

"Mmhm." Elyia made the noise passively. She pulled her hand away from the surface of the stone. "But I thought you should see it. Before tonight. It won't be this easy to sneak out here after ... You know."

Atleion looked towards the ground. His tail came to rest among the flowers, and without a word, he sank down to sit upon his heels. Their days of exploring the forest unfettered were soon to be behind them. This much he knew. They were twelve cycles old, and with that came responsibilities. Their future awaited them within their village, and that night it would be decided.

After inhaling a deep breath, Atleion reached over to touch the glassy stone. His fingers curled against its surface. "Yeah..."

"Have you thought about it?" Elyia crouched down next to him. She smoothed her tunic down before seating herself carefully among the flowers. "What you're going to say?"

Atleion shook his head. He was tight-lipped, and his brows twisted in discomfort.

Silence passed between the two children, the world populated by little more than the carefree wind rustling the flower petals and tree branches.

Atleion opened his mouth to speak, only to stop when he felt something tangling within his hair. His eyes lifted towards Elyia, who had become focused as she messed with his purple locks. Her fingers were nimbly braiding something into his hair, and it was not until she reached for another object that he realized she were braiding flowers into it.

His mouth shut and he eased, shifting as she worked a series of them along the side of his head.

Elyia leaned back and held her fingers in front of her as if to frame Atleion in her view. Her tongue stuck out from the side of her mouth. "Hm."

Her tail gently rolled through the flowers behind her. "There we go."

"What'd you do that for?" Atleion tilted his head upward. One of his ears rose high, and his eyes began searching for an answer not easily found.

She dropped her hands down and flashed a warm grin, enough to shine the sharps of her teeth. "For luck."

With her answer stated, Elyia rose to her feet. She dusted her tunic off, staring down at the small boy next to her. Her hands tucked behind her back, elbows straight. "Nothing to be scared of if the forest is with you. Right?"

Atleion stared up at her with wide eyes. His fingers gently trailed the side of his head, just beneath the flower petals worked into his hair. He smiled wide himself, offering Elyia a firm nod in response.

She coyly slapped his back with her tail, prancing off towards the thicket tunnel they had entered through. Her arms flew up and she called out, loud as she could.

"We should get back! If we're late, even the Old Ones can't save us from Shaderoot's ..." Her fingers pulled her eyelids down from her cheeks, dreary and grim. "Stare of no-fun."

Elyia dropped her hands down and dashed off into the thicket, leaving only a flash of her white hair and tail in view before she disappeared into the shadowy foliage. "Last one there has to tell him where we were!"

Try as Atleion did not to laugh, he could not contain it. His shoulders shook. His face flushed a bright red, and he howled into the quiet, scampering off after Elyia towards the thicket entrance.

His feet clumsily carried him through the flowers. More than once he fell, and his long tail, purple as his hair, with a lavender tip, whipped out to try and maintain his balance. As he reached the thicket's entrance, however, something stopped him dead within his tracks. A whisper.

He stood on his toes. His ears pricked up, twisting each direction his head looked, until he turned to glance back at the glassy stone in the clearing, and the sea of white flowers in bloom.

Nothing was there. As soon as the sensation had washed over him, it had drawn away like the rolling tide.

His ears lowered down. He shook his head... And without giving it a second thought, he bound into the thicket to continue the journey home.

[atleion]

(( I don’t know. I just wanted to draw glowing things and magic stuff. I’ve been doing scientist quests in Celestion, and all of the deep insight into the Weave and primal echoes fills my heart with glee. I was thinking about that or something.))

[atleion]

(( Super quick sketch I had to do~ It is very dirty. Ah-ha.

Ayana Stormbringer @stormbringer invited Atleion over to see a hoard of jabbits living in her house in condolences for his boulder-father. 

... And Atleion is a Disney princess. He was swarmed by 14 jabbits and engulfed in a furry sea of certain bliss. ))

[atleion]

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Atleion recently had some help rescuing some plants that are very special to him from hell on Nexus. Because flowers are worth the risk of D E A T H. Well, these were for him, though perhaps not for the team he dragged into dire straights. 

It made me want to explore some of his memories and more about his village on Arboria. So I’m writing nonsense short stories of things Atleion remembers from his childhood and time before Nexus in varying detail. Because I’m a nerd and this is where my creative energy goes.

... Plus it gives me excuses to draw him in different stages of development.

 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dapples of radiant sunlight tangled with the shadows of towering evergreen trees stretching out along the distance of the forest floor. Littered about were the essences of old nature. Fallen logs rotting into the ground, with small bits of fungi and moss clinging needily to their nourishing life raft. Tall, untamed grasses swayed against the soft breeze, brushing up against small stones and overgrown hedges --- and nestled amongst it all were the towering ancient trees that had stood the test of time within such a wild forest.

They were thick and powerful giants, and their roots protruded from the ground to cradle the forest's pathways and clearings like protective guardians; yet not all of their grounds stood undisturbed. They harbored small plants, petty little weeds that shimmered when the stray bit of sunlight broke across them, their leaves dancing lazily. Dozens of them, hundreds of them, connected throughout the trees like an endless sea; a wide river snaking far into the distance of this archaic portion of the wood.

Curled up amongst these petty little weeds was a rather small Aurin child. His messy purple hair splayed out against the ground, its tips a hazy and wavy lavender to contrast the darkest portions of its roots, and all connected to his lazily flopped fur-covered ears. The boy's tail twisted up around his legs. He nuzzled himself deep into the soft grasses, a pleasant little smile across his freckle-adorned face.

This silent space was a safe harbor where he could be alone with the quiet whispers on the winds. Were he to climb the branches of the trees, he could see the mountains, the billowing clouds. Even the small outlines of his tiny little village in the distance. As much as he loved the trees, however, he cherished their flowers more; thus he stayed on the ground, murmuring soft and sweet tunes about the comings of Spring and the blooming of blossoms.

Until his quiet little voice was interrupted by an irritable shouting in the distance...

"Atleion!" The voice cried out, ringing within the trees.

Atleion sat his little body up. His furry ears stood tall and alert, though he did not call back to the voice. His dark eyes stared out into the distance. Gradually the boy crawled his way out of the bed of weed like flowers and grasses, from beneath the towering roots of the old trees. He worked his way up to his wobbly bare feet, toes digging into the dirt of the ground.

"Rainsong, I swear on the Mother Tree, if you don't answer me, I'll feed you to the beasts myself! Atleion!" The voice called out, more irritable than before.

The little Aurin child tensed at such an assertion. He scurried forward a few steps, grabbing the edge of his shirt to tug it down. He leaned, shouting out as loud as his small voice may have been able to carry. "Go away! I dun wanna make baskets!" Atleion shouted into the forest.

The heavy bushes near his santuary rustled violently before giving way to a large, intimidating figure of a man. His sleek blue skin shimmered in the shadows, tiny white speckles adorning it like an array of icy spots. He glared down at the small child with silvery eyes. They were bright, menacing, and commanding.

The moment Atleion saw such eyes, he squeaked. He held the edge of his shirt tighter, his shoulders raising up before he backed away to retreat to his weeds and grasses. Before he could get particularly far, the man scooped him up beneath his muscular arm and held him fast.

"Lemme go, lemme go, lemme go!" Atleion kicked his tiny legs in the air. His tail lashed out like a brutal whip, though it hardly seemed to phase his captor. When it elicited no response, he threw his head off to the side, lodging his tiny fangs into the blue Aurin's arm.

The man grunted, ignoring the bite and the flailing. His own fur-coated ears, rounded and bushy, folded backwards with vague aggression. He took his free hand, setting it on the scruff of the boy's neck to lightly squeeze there before letting go and turning to head back into the brush he'd come through, boy in tow. The best policy for a tantrum, after all, was to ignore it and allow it to pass like a violent storm. Eventually it would give way to calm, and until then, he was prepared to endure the inconveniences and pain.

"Lemme go!" Atleion cried out, his small face flushed red and irritable as he was carted through the thick leaves and into the forest. He stared out towards the path they'd traveled, towards his weed like flowers and grasses. The further they walked, the further away they grew, and the more he thrashed with the fury of a wild savage. After a great deal of struggle, luck appeared to grant the small child's wishes. He'd bitten a particularly tender space on the man's arm, only to find himself plopped abruptly on the ground. He crashed into the dirt when the man reeled back.

Quickly, Atleion scrambled back through the leaves and bushes, back towards the cradling embrace of the old ancient trees and their quiet little song. He did not get particularly far when the man once more grasped his arm, spinning him around to look him in the eyes.

"Are you Aurin or beast, child?" The man's brows furrowed intensely.

Atleion sniffled, hot tears forming in his eyes. He hadn't responded to the question, more intent on puffing himself up to seem as big as a small child possibly could be. The fur of his ears and tail bristled. His hair rose dramatically, and he cast a deep scowl at the man with all the pouting indignation he could muster.

The man sighed. He took one hand to brush his long blue hair from his face, tossing it back over his shoulder. Calmly he placed both hands on the child's shoulders.

"I dun wanna make baskets. Oly's mean." Atleion sniffled, puffing himself up further with each moment to pass. "And I dun like it. It's not fun."

The man let out a soft chuckle, quirking his brows at the boy. "So you're running from Oly?" He inquired, only to be greeted with no certain response. He wouldn't need one. He could tell from the glint in the small Aurin's eyes what the truth of the matter was.

Atleion rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. He looked away from the man in a huff; his little ears wilted downward, the bristle of his fur dropping with the heavy breathing of his tantrum. He stood in utter silence. Only when the man addressed him once more did he meekly look back to him.

"You don't have to make baskets." The man relented, releasing Atleion from his grasp. "But I can't leave you out here, understand? It's dangerous for a child."

Atleion's brows twisted in confusion. He fiddled with the edge of his shirt, shuffling from foot to foot. "I like it here." His voice dropped to the tone of a whisper. "I wanna stay! I'mma big Aurin!" He let go of his shirt, puffing out his chest and patting it twice with his fist at his heart.

A moment of quiet passed between the two Aurin as they rested amongst the verdant world about them. The sounds of the forest echoed within the distance, calm, steady, and constant. After a great deal of listening, the man closed his eyes. He set a hand on the little child's head, brushing back his wavy purple and lavender hair with tender fondness. His silvery eyes opened to look into Atleion's blackened ones, piercing, knowing, and understanding. Without a single sound, the large blue Aurin began to walk, guiding Atleion down the path they'd traveled ... Back to the weeds and grasses cradled beneath the loving arms of their trees. His shaggy tail swept against the ground with each careful step.

Atleion looked up at him in nervous bewilderment. He set his hands in front of him, grasping the edge of his shirt for security and comfort. In equal quiet, he followed the much older man into the forest. His tiny bare feet clutched at the dirt, moss, and pebbles littering the floor. Now and then they would fall neatly into the old footprints left by his elder companion.

"Let me tell you a story..." The man whispered. He took the small boy and sank to the ground, sitting amongst the winding sea of shimmering weed-like plants in the shade of the trees.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[atleion]

(( I’m taking forever to finish stuff I’m working on, so here’s a bunch of sketches. So. Many. Sketches. This isn’t even all of my sketches. *internal screaming* ))

[atleion]

(( The full-body final result of my ‘find a consistent way to draw this punk’.

He usually wears hoodies and jackets, but I wanted to denote some things beneath. I might end up with a series of edits for things like his armor set and the hoodie he likes to wear.

The barcode’s from an adventure he had where he was kidnapped by pirates to be sold into slavery on the black market. So he has a digital price tag associated with a black market (though he doesn’t know exactly how much he’s worth, and doesn’t want to know). Fortunately, he was never actually sold to anyone, as he was most awesomely rescued. He usually keeps it covered up with something. 

... He’s prone to this sort of trouble. Just a danger magnet.

Bonus is the rough sketch with my scribble notes and the lines without color. )) 

[atleion]

(( It was FCON appreciation night at the Crash Pad on Entity. So, Atleion was hanging out with his people throughout the evening. He had a rough night at first. A fantastic Granok named Wor introduced him to a Gameboy that blew his little Aurin mind.

Atleion has a loose understanding of technology. He hasn’t actually been awake on Nexus for very long (he spent an unusually long time in Cryo after The Ravaging). He sometimes forgets that things like TV are fake (not separate worlds he’s viewing behind a screen). Given he doesn’t usually engage television or video games, it’s not a topic that comes up for him. But, in this case, he thought there were tiny people inside the Gameboy. His first reaction was “If I make them fight, do they want to fight?” followed by not wanting the hero of the game he was playing to die as they got down to one heart. 

He lived the dream of being a sword-wielding hero conquering monsters that dropped treasure. He ended up finding a Bow weapon, but promptly discarded it, being infatuated with swinging a sword around. In his words: Swords are cool, and he never liked shooting a bow.

Moments like this fill my heart with joy. ))

[atleion]

((  I draw Atleion 1000 different ways, so I told myself I was going to sit down and hammer home something consistent if it killed me. I make no promises... 

The struggle is real. I like experimenting with different aesthetics too much.It’s like an addiction for me to try different aesthetics out. B| ))

[atleion]

(( C’: I enjoy drawing Atleion’s dumb face... )) 

[atleion]

(( An updated version of Atty after he gets a hair cut. Right now it’s all long and shaggy. I can’t reflect it on his in game model, but *imagination* ~ >.> ))

[atleion]

(( I was doing Contracts when this random NPC started talking about how bad the situation in Thayd is. It gave me a laugh. This is how I have fun in Wildstar. IDK. ))