#Athalia

[skelvron-keiman]

Athalia's kindness can be confused for something else, but she too stupid naive to notice it

[thewhisperingtwenties]

you will see my first danganronpa fan character. Athalia Abelle (ultimate disciple) .

shes extremely religious but its made deliberately unclear what religion she actually subscribes to, and thats because its not one that exists; her belief system is entirely unique to her, as she believes she has perfected faith itself. shes studied the practices of most religions, and shes been in hundreds of cults, simply cherrypicking things she believes to be “correct” and curating from there.

also shes dressed like a christian nun because i enjoy the imagery, not because shes actually christian. just for fun

[maweom]

Finally Awakened Athalia

[lady-of-the-spirit]

Fun facts about my OCs:

Kris has dated only two men in her whole life. Both of them were named Peter. Neither were Peter Parker. She has named them Peter One and Peter Two. Peter Parker is just Peter. he is the only important Peter in her life.

The Watchmaker has been married and divorced three times. No kids.

It is unclear to everyone around them if The Watchmaker and Jackie Tyler have fucked or not. Rose is distressed about it.

Kiana was created because I wanted to go against common LOTR OC fic tropes on wattpad (no hate, they're fun). She's a royal in her own right, a queer woman of colour, is friends with Boromir, doesn't have a relationship with any of the men in the fellowship, and doesn't have a grand destiny. She's just a woman doing what she thinks is right.

Annunel was created in a similar vein but mostly because I wanted to give Aragorn a lesbian sister and thought "What if she loved Arwen but had a Angelica from Hamilton mindset and let them be happy at her expense".

Annunel and Kiana were originally separate stories but then I thought what if I put these two gays together and made them kiss and they became one story.

I knew I wanted to make Athalia what was essentially an anthropologist a few years before I myself decided to major in anthropology.

Athalia was originally a niece/goddaughter of Bilbo before I decided the timeline was too complicated and got rid of that plotline and just made them the same age and old friends.

[iironwreath]

Nether [Vierna]

[cw: drug use, vomiting at the end, cult behaviour, spiders]

“The Spider Queen wishes to see you.”

Vierna had the pad of her foot on the floor when Athalia shrouded the doorway. Her voice and expression were mostly flat, marked with the barest shade of derision—Vierna almost didn’t understand. Athalia said it like it was mundane.

The Spider Queen wanted to see her? When she lived in her temple, under her many eyes? Vierna’s head throbbed.

Nepenthe swaggered in after, her gaze thrown over her shoulder and grinning at someone she’d exchanged greetings with. Where Athalia was all poised and narrow, Nepenthe was broad and expanded to fill the space, bracing a shoulder against the doorframe as she swung that easy smile on Vierna. She wasn’t in her armour, instead wearing comfortable clothes that covered her to the wrists, her pale hair pouring loose over one side of her head.

“Follow me,” Athalia instructed, snapping her fingers thrice like she was waking Vierna from another trance. “Nepenthe will help you.” She pivoted, the click of her heels following her like a second set of footsteps.

Nepenthe crossed the room. Vierna felt more ambushed than gracefully awakened—she didn’t have time to brush her hair or dress, forced out of bed in a simple shift. She counted herself lucky to slip on her shoes. She wondered if Athalia did this on purpose as a means to throw her off-guard or if she was just waiting for Vierna to wake up and didn’t have the patience for touch-ups.

It must have shown on her face, because Nepenthe said, “This is the highest honour, so it’s best not to keep her waiting. We’re going further down, but there’s no lift for it.”

Vierna and Nepenthe spoke like Vierna had no choice, at least not one that left her looking respectable. She doubted they would drag her kicking and screaming to—wherever it was—but refusing would have amounted to sacrilege.

The fog in her mind made talking feel like she was speaking around a mouthful of ooze, anyway. The only reason she could think semi-clearly was Athalia’s greater restoration and Lolth’s presence chipping away at Tharizdun’s efficacy.

Why had she accepted Dumaran’s help at all, if not to lean into Lolth? Was the voice of dissent her own, or planted by the Chained Oblivion?

She accepted Nepenthe’s elbow. Nepenthe hoisted her to her feet and they set off after Athalia, who waited beyond the ambulatory in front of one of the chapel alcoves. Tal’dorei’s refugees were housed in the Heart of Malice cathedral until they figured out who responded best to treatment and could be moved to different lodging.  

Athalia vanished into the stone, the alcove wall hiding her from the civilians trickling in and out of the nave. Vierna started, but Nepenthe tugged her arm. They proceeded through an illusory wall.

They descended a spiral staircase into what must have been the crypt. The ceiling bore down on them, more foreboding, and the crystals were spread further apart, creating a blend of lavender hue and monochrome. Vierna thought this was where she would converse with Lolth, but Athalia led them further, yanking a wall candelabra down on a hinge with a crack. A section to its left ground open, leaving an arched void with more plunging darkness beyond.

Of course. Lolth was a master of deceit—it could never be anything but a labyrinth. Vierna was her own vault of secrets; she never faulted Lolth for it, only saw her as intelligent and doing as she should, a goddess to take example from.

There were no proper stairs, only an uneven stone path on an incline. Vierna began to sweat between Nepenthe’s body and the closed air pressing in on her. It was claustrophobic after the high, vaulting spaces of Dumaran and the cathedral. Nepenthe offered to carry her on her back, but Vierna shook her head—each step strengthened her resolve. Her ankle was sore, sure, but her exhaustion was much deeper than that.

Some interminable time later, after a handful of twists and stretches, the tunnel opened. A church—less grand than the Heart of Malice, almost modest by comparison—waited at the end, set into the rock. They entered through a set of double doors.

Inside was more intimate than the cathedral. The architecture was similar, but shorter. On the far wall was an effigy of Lolth, cut in sharp, flattering shapes. The spider legs of her lower half extended from the wall and curved above a circular pool in the ground. Red gemstones sat in the place of her eyes and decorated her neckline and crown like drops of blood. She looked at ease in her power, eyes half-lidded and mouth drawn in an elegant smile, one of her humanoid arms resting over her chest while the other ascended.

Athalia crossed to a wooden table set against one of the aisle pillars. There were sundry items—ceremonial daggers, vials, a mortar and pestle, sheaves of dried herbs. Nepenthe followed, but casually, allowing Vierna to catch her breath and absorb the temple.

“It works best if you undress,” Athalia said without facing them, voice still a deadpan. Did she have any other tone? She poured from a decanter into a hand-sized bowl and turned to Vierna. “You’re to drink this, then lie in the pool face-up. It’s not deep. You won’t sink.”

She passed the bowl. A murky mud-brown liquid filled it halfway. Vierna lifted it to her nose—she couldn’t place the scent, but it smelled as appetizing as it looked, somewhere between sour and tart. It could have been poisonous.

“What—”

“A broth,” Athalia interrupted.

“From?”

“Bones,” Athalia said, approaching irritation. Vierna couldn’t tell if she was mocking her or not.

“No need to be curt, Athalia,” Nepenthe chided, but sounded amused. “I don’t think Vierna is asking because she won’t drink it, but because she’s curious.”

It was half-true, but Vierna wasn’t going to argue semantics if it got Athalia to explain. She couldn’t do it well, besides, through sign or voice.

Athalia sighed, shoulders dropping. “It’s a mixture of broth made from demon bones and some tea made from mushrooms we grow in the city. It has a tranquilizing effect—it will help open your mind and facilitate a connection.”

So not poison, then, but Vierna hadn’t thought to try anything from a demon because it might have acted like a toxin regardless. When they died, their ichor resembled the unending shadows of the Chained Oblivion. All the same in death. Maybe she should have—maybe she could have used it to her advantage. Maybe—

Moot now. Pointless, too-late ideas.

Vierna didn’t strip, but cupped the bowl in both hands and closed her eyes. The air quivered, plucked, like Lolth lurked in the hidden recesses and Vierna had landed on her web. Did she ever leave?

She sipped the broth first, sputtered, then asserted herself and quaffed it in a few short gulps. It burned, though not to the point of pain. It shifted into a tingling bordering on numbing, warming as it slid down her throat and branched across her chest.

She stepped over to the pool, backing out of her shoes. The water—if it was that—was an impenetrable black. She dipped a toe past the lip. It was the same temperature as her, lukewarm, and had a consistency slightly thicker than water. She eased her feet in. It was ankle-deep, with a shallow dip in the center that might have gone part way up her shins at best.

She lowered herself onto her hip. The broth affected her balance, putting torpor in her limbs—the room had smudged at the edges like charcoal—so she gripped the outer rim of the pool. It looked like she was being swallowed, no longer able to make out her lower half. Nepenthe and Athalia knelt on either side of her.

“Lie down,” Athalia said, more gently now. “Spread your arms and legs.”

Vierna did. It would have been easy to float—her body was weightless—but she refused to let go of the edge, her fingers hooked. If she let go, she would fall, and she didn’t know how far or what waited at the bottom.

“Let go,” Nepenthe urged, her voice a whisper. 

Vierna lowered the back of her head into the liquid. The second she did, the noise from the room was snuffed. Underwater had sound, but even that was gone—no burble of bubbles or murmur of the flow against her ears. Her chemise and hair eddied around her.

She released the edge. It didn’t feel like she was in water, but suspended in air. She wasn’t falling at all.

Nepenthe and Athalia faded from view. The rutilant gems in Lolth’s effigy were the last thing she saw, burning at a low glow. The stone spider-legs wrapping the pool above her were like an embrace—or a cage. She couldn’t decide which.

She wondered if this was what it was like to die without pain, the only way she had ever wanted to die.

—

Losing consciousness had been a lazy drift down a river, but she came to with a jolt like she’d been dropped in a glacial-fed lake. She was lying on cold, hard rock. There was no difference between her eyes being open or closed, so much that she was frightened she’d gone blind. The darkness was absolute. It reminded her of parts of Ruhn-Shak, ruins consumed by writhing shadows. Maybe she had never left after all and the Chained Oblivion was toying with her. Maybe Dumaran was a place of non-existent hope she’d dreamt up out of desperation.

She had her body, though. She groped her way onto her hands and knees. Gradually, silhouettes appeared in the gloom. A cavern gaped around her, the ceiling far out of sight. Pendulous strings of web arced between each other and the walls like banners, noticeable only by the pearly sheen whenever they caught an unseen source of light.

There was a massive entrance—exit?—both in front and behind her. She had no sense of how deep she was; she could have been in any tunnel in the Underdark. No—she’d gone beyond the Underdark and entered the Abyss itself. She was in the Dreadnest.

“Oh, Vierna. My heart sings to see you.”

Vierna snapped her head in the direction of the voice—because it did have direction, coming from the maw of the cave in front of her. A set of eyes opened, the same carmine-red she had passed out under. Then a second. And third. And fourth. Column-thick spider-legs unfurled from the hole, and Lolth emerged.

Vierna had always been tall for a drow, but she was utterly cowed by Lolth. In simple terms, she was a drider—a black spider below the waist with a woman’s body riding on top. Except in addition to her spider appendages, eight humanoid arms branched out of an extended torso. She was layered in a chitinous armour and topped with a heavy, jagged crown. Bone-white hair drifted endlessly into the darkness, seeming to join with her webs.

Vierna felt like her eyes deceived her, but she didn’t want to rub them. Staring without blinking, Lolth’s proportions seemed a little too long, a facsimile of humanity. There were darts of movement on her armour—spiders that, for Lolth, were small, but must have been the size of Vierna’s head. There were an untold amount of eyes on her.

Lolth beamed as she approached, her canines a set of thin, lengthy fangs. Her lips were peeled back over her teeth—it wasn’t a welcoming smile, but a possessive, predatory one. Vierna was frozen to the spot.  

“Come, now,” Lolth cooed, and two middle arms reached for her, plucking Vierna off the floor and setting her on her feet. She didn’t let go straight away, helping Vierna find her balance. Vierna was too stunned to resist. “Poor thing, that’s better.”

Her voice wasn’t what Vierna expected. It was befitting of a queen, regal and mellifluous, wafting to her sweetly and wrapping around her like a shawl of silk. She could see it being as intoxicating as wine, meant to win her over in slow swallows rather than all at once. But then, what had she expected?

Lolth dusted off Vierna’s shift with two other hands and then another took a tress of Vierna’s blanched hair, letting it cascade through her fingers. “Your hair used to be dark, didn’t it? And your magic so much more potent.” All hands left at once, but her face blocked the space in front of her in a sudden snarl. Her eight eyes made it difficult to focus, like Vierna’s vision had quadrupled. “Tharizdun will pay for what its done.”

Vierna croaked, then clutched her throat. The words were still clogged up there.

“Hmm.” One of Lolth’s primary hands came to hover in front of Vierna’s throat. A tapered nail strummed at an unseen tension. She tugged, and something snapped—Vierna gasped, words rushing in.

“Is this real?” she panted.

Lolth chuckled, and it echoed above and behind Vierna, skittering away. The webs and Lolth’s hair shivered around them. “I’m very real. But this—“ she flicked a set of fingers to her den, “—is only real insofar as visions are. You’re not truly in the Dreadnest. I’ve woven this space in your mind as an in-between. You opened the door—I stepped inside.”

Vierna wondered if a simple yes or no would have sufficed.

Lolth’s chuckle raised into a cackle that made Vierna jump. “Oh, but you know things are rarely that simple! A yes or no wouldn’t have satisfied you. Don’t pretend I don’t know you, Vierna.”

So none of her thoughts were private and belonged to her here. Lolth’s smile endured, as if agreeing, but it was logical—Vierna submitted herself to her. They were connected.

“Why did you wish to see me?” Vierna asked.

Lolth drew away. “To help you, my sweet. I despise the Chained Oblivion—I take hope through you that not all is lost. Where the Luxon conceals my children in a light I cannot see into, the Chained Oblivion does the same with a darkness I cannot penetrate. I should be the ruler of darkness, I was banished from the surface—and yet.”

There was a quivering anger under her words that spoke of a loathing that was as ancient and immortal as she was.

“Am I cured, then?” Vierna ventured.

Lolth gave a slow shake of her head. “Not fully. I've done more than a greater restoration can do, but I can still see the Chained Oblivion’s…mark, in you. But you’re where you belong, closer to me; the more time passes here, the more its influence will erode. You will be yourself again.”

“Will I?” Doubt clouded her voice.

“I've been watching you for longer than you know, Vierna.” Lolth’s hands clasped in front of her, then expanded, and like a cat’s cradle strung to her fingers, a web formed between them. “I can trace your bloodline back—families are webs to me as much as they are trees to others.” Little flecks filed along the strands, in and out, expanding and spiralling. “You’ve travelled so very far. You have always struck first. You’re accomplished; where others would squander their gift of magic, you use creativity and resilience to not just survive, but elevate yourself. My Children of Malice need that.”

She closed the web with a booming clap. “I see an auspicious future for you, Vierna. I want to help you get closer to it, to who you’re meant to be.”

“I—” Vierna swallowed, clutching the words, hoping to make them stick. It wasn’t lost on her what Lolth’s blessing meant, how many would have killed for it in Tal’dorei. Above all, she was grateful to be closer to being free of Tharizdun. She bowed her head. “Thank you.”

“It’s my pleasure.” Lolth leaned in again and tipped Vierna’s face up. The back of another hand caressed her cheek. Lolth’s skin was marble smooth, but her knuckles were bony and her touch was chilly. “I cannot stay—occupying your mind puts stress on the body. But fear not, for I’m never far, and we’ll speak again.”

Two fingers closed her eyes.

Vierna thrashed awake, flinging water. She tasted salt, then bile as she bent over and vomited violently onto the cobblestone. It was a torrent of black goo and whatever broth she’d consumed before. She heaved until she was empty and nothing but spittle and acid drooled out—it was then she noticed someone rubbing soft circles into her back, and another keeping wet hair away from her face. The palm between her shoulder blades belonged to Nepenthe, thicker, and the one holding her hair was Athalia.

Lolth was right—she wasn’t fully free, and would likely never be the same again, but it felt like several more fingers had been prised from the hand around her throat.

“Welcome home, sister,” Athalia whispered.

[borealis-siblings]

(Polteashop) Athalia @ Miriam “So, are you enjoying the beverages as well?” The first Zacian asks, sipping from another glass of champagne he picked up.

"Oh, I am absolutely enjoying these beverages.. I never get a chance anymore to enjoy some fine champagne- Especially not this fine of champagne.."

Miriam's once annoyed look has turned into a somewhat slight smile, after she takes another sip of her champagne glass.

"My "father" makes sure I don't "spoil" myself around my mortal companions..."

It seems Miriam made sure to emphize the sarcasm in father & spoil..

(@polteashop, Athalia)

[mysaldate]

Do you think Athalia was a good candidate for an Awakened form?

From a meta perspective? Yes. She's the first celestial in the game and let's be fair, she is pretty useless. Her getting an awakened form achieves what the devs set out to do with the awakenings in the first place, giving old and out-of-meta characters some new life.

From a storytelling perspective? It's hard to tell just yet. I would like to see this being a continuation of the Elemental Strife storyline in a way and feel the consequences of that and I think that if they lean into that, it could work well. Athalia learning to appreciate the living beings of Esperia after Talene, one of her fellow Celestials, literally sacrificed her life to save them all? That could be awesome. Sadly, it doesn't seem like that's where they're going with this though.

[chaoticcomposition]

also cleaned up this base & doodled some outfits for athalia!

[skelvron-keiman]

The first time Athalia did this dialogue, she hadn't officially started her relationship with Gale yet. Now this is canon for me

[cosmophalhemr]

No Hypogeans here!!!!!!

[maweom]

Athalia my favorite hero so far… beautiful lore!

[lady-of-the-spirit]

Please tell me more about your Tolkien-verse OCs????

HAPPILY!!!

I've got Athalia, who's for The Hobbit trilogy, and Kiana and Annunel, both for the Lord of the Rings trilogy. They all exist in the same timeline, with Athalia's story meant to be a prequel to Kiana/Annunel's.

Athalia was originally written as the daughter of one of Bilbo's friends/neighbours and ended up raised by Bilbo after her parent's death. I scrapped that idea a few years ago, though, and made her his childhood friend instead, partly because her staying his niece didn't feel right to me anymore and partly so I could write them being snarky best friends.

Athalia's Not Like Other Hobbits. you know how the fandom characterizes Bilbo's mom as being an adventuring hobbit lady? Athalia is very much the same. She wants adventure in the great wide somewhere and - scandalously - actually goes off on a journey to see all of Middle Earth some 8 years before the start of the story. She comes back from her journey, reuniting with her best friend Bilbo, claiming she wants to settle down again, just in time for Gandalf to show up asking Bilbo to go on his own adventure. Athalia is immediately on board and claims that "surely two bandits is better than one!" And gets Bilbo on board (despite his many many reservations about the whole thing).

She has a lot of information on what she's seen of the world and is very eager to share and learn more, always, always jotting down notes in her journals (she has many) and collecting little trinkets when she can. Her enthusiasm, cheerfulness, and seemingly endless knowledge and opinions successfully seduces Fili after maybe a week on their journey.

Not everything is all sunshine, though. The background of her fic, most important, is that I was watching the Hobbit movies (for the first time) at the same time I was rereading Fushigi Yuugi: Genbu Kaiden, in which the main character 1) uses a spear as a weapon and 2 (spoilers) ends up getting tuberculosis. I was so compelled by this character and the tragic nature of prequels that it ended up factoring into Athalia's story a lot. I created my own little plague that affects only the hobbit community and is very rare, but has no cure, and Athalia is slowly dying over the course of the story. She's known since before she returned to Bag End - it's the reason she returned, wanting to see her oldest friend before she died. But she doesn't want a peaceful, quiet death, withering away to nothing. So Gandalf's quest is a way for her to have both some time with Bilbo and doing what she loves, seeing the world, and making her last little bit of time on this beautiful earth matter. She's accepted her death.

Until she falls in love with Fili, and worse, finds out he loves her back, which makes everything so much harder. because now she wants to live.

So yeah this fic and her character were VERY tragic in nature, as prequels often are. I never could decide on an ending - killing both her and fili, just killing her (through various means), or in an alternate ending AFTER the tragic one was posted, saving them both.

I totally meant to start writing this fic, but then covid hit, and it just seemed inappropriate to do so after that.

Now onto the happier ocs- Kiana and Annunel! Originally, Kiana and Annunel were supposed to be two separate stories. But then I went well why not put them together? And they ended up together, same story. And together as in they're in lesbians together 💖 because why not???

Kiana is unrelated to the rest of the main cast, princess and heir to the throne of a foreign kingdom in the south. I think canonically it's Umbar but I didn't know that when I made her and chose a random place on the map, and I've just stuck with that. Her kingdom was inspired by ancient Persia. Smth fun about her is that in her country's language their term for "King" is a completely gender neutral term so she's gonna be a woman king. she's very emotional but hides it behind her royal persona and only lets it slip the longer she's with the fellowship. She's also besties with Boromir because their countries are friends with each other and I was fucking sick of all the ocs hating on Boromir, my beloved.

Annunel is the twin of Aragorn. They used to be much closer when they were younger but as they got older they drifted apart. (They're both rangers though. Her nickname with the rangers is "West" which is a little reference to her name which means "west/sunset" in Sindarin. Or says the website I found years ago which I can't find now.) She gets herself tangled into the fellowship before Frodo gets himself stabbed, when she finds them in the woods - Gandalf called her. It's the first time she's seen her brother in years. It's weird. but hey. she's here. (and then she sticks with him when Frodo takes the ring because she's invested now.)

There's a little onesided beef on Kiana's part with Annunel because she and Boromir are both of the opinion Aragorn/Annunel abandoned Gondor and that's a big no-no in her book. But they get past that over time.

(Eowyn gets a little crush on Kiana and Annunel is jealous that's important to me.)

[iironwreath]

oc halloween costumes

happy halloween! a fun thinking exercise 🎃

cihro: hermes

crow: baphomet

cadiana: the headless horseman

genevieve: van helsing

iona: mr. darcy from p&p

ada: a sea hag

nepenthe: gomez addams

vierna: morticia addams

athalia: thorn, the lead singer of the hex girls

union: aziraphale from good omens or regis from the witcher

surina: geralt of rivia or kratos from god of war

[churieq]

2019~

[theproperweirdo]

Chat I’ve been so busy and haven’t been online on anything other than insta 😢😢 here’s Athalia but I drew her while I was volunteering at a summer camp so she’s not great

[zzoupz]

random heroes for funsies

I will draw every single character eventually