#i haven't written anything that wasn't an essay or reflection paper for school
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➸ Avriel | @uroboros-if
✦ Moment of Creation 🍂
In the all-encompassing cradle of the universe, Avriel came into existence within the embrace of light. They first felt pain. The universe wracked every thread of their existence with the agony of every being, all at once — then soothed the fractures left behind with the love of all that ever was and ever will be. Upon his first time laying eyes on another being, he attempted to replicate her smile. The first... emotion he ever felt in the waking world was curiosity.
✦ Pieces of a Soul 🍂
➸ Avriel stands at 5'9. He sits with his knees curled against his chest whenever he can get away with it, making him appear to be smaller than he actually is. 🍂
➸ He can be quite contradictory in the sense that while he approaches the world with an unrelenting — sometimes reckless — optimism, he’s always very surprised whenever someone seems to enjoy or even want his company. Years of subtle, minor, rejections have trailed him since his creation, as if the waking world was determined to wear him down little by little. As a result, he has a severely low view of himself when it comes to his worth as a friend or as company.
Despite that, he persists with dogged optimism and continues to seek out the company of other beings. He keeps trying, keeps hoping, but he never really… expects to actually get anything back. 🍂
➸ Rarely holds grudges. He could be called forgiving at best, and overly passive at worst. 🍂
➸ Not one to hide his emotions, he often speaks without thinking. Fortunately, for what he lacks in tact, he makes up for in intuition. He’s quick to sense the emotions of others, including discomfort or distress, and will immediately back off and apologize if he feels he was the cause. He’ll attempt to make amends, but whether he's successful or not is a different matter. 🍂
➸ Avriel loves to dance! He started learning when he was young and picked up different styles by observing other mortals and deities, though Rafaele was also a very willing (and delighted) teacher. Would be all for dipping his dance partner in a dance! In fact, it's at the top of his bucket list! 🍂
➸ Has a sword he often uses in his dances. Avriel picked up sword dancing when he was young. Years of diligently honing his skills in the art have made him skilled in the dance of the sword, able to move his body and blade with the lightness of a swallow. 🍂
➸ Like most beings, Avriel has his personal preferences. He particularly likes eating meat. His favorite flower is the Krio firosafa. Delicate and enduring, they are often overlooked because they are always there, as if there would never come a day when the streets would truly lay bare of them — Avriel thinks there is much worth treasuring in that. 🍂
➸ Extremely affectionate. He makes it incredibly obvious when he's happy to see someone, whether platonic or romantic, and will perk up with sparkling eyes upon seeing them approach. Loves pestering friends once they've gotten close enough — a befriended (or romanced!) Ciocana may find that a happy and secure Avriel can be even more of a menace than they are. Although he would settle down somewhat when with a more reticient friend, content to accompany them in quieter activities. As long as he's given a sense of security and acceptance, Avriel is happy to follow their lead.
It's uncertain what the ettiquette is in Galaio in regards to skinship, but if Avriel were a being in the modern world he would be the type to affectionately link arms with his friends or drape himself over their shoulders. 🍂
➸ Becomes quiet and subdued when upset. It is rare that something affects him to this extent, but when it does, he shuts down like a flower withered in winter. There is an off-putting silence in his expression, in his downcast eyes. It is best not to leave him alone when in this state. 🍂
➸ Is very active, and prefers to take the longer, more creative route rather than simply using the streets. He often climbs, leaps, and bounds his way around Lucidio in an effort to add some fun to his hectic yet rather repetitive schedule. It works, most times! He appears to be drawn to high places, and can often be seen crouching on a pillar or making himself at home on a roof. 🍂
➸ Is actually quite content with his current life. While he’d probably definitely fall over from shock and joy if he got even a single offering from a mortal, his lack of power or recognition isn't something that weighs on his mind, not anymore. He’s long come to terms with his status and makes the best of it — though the mockery occasionally thrown at him still affects him.
Although it would be nice if the world wouldn’t look upon him so harshly, Avriel’s dearest wish is to have meaningful relationships with other beings — bonds where he can safely go to them and know that they want him there. If he were able to have such relationships one day… well. Who could ask for anything more? 🍂
➸ His fathers are his anchors. Avriel is a being who thrives off love and attention; his fathers have always given him the steadfast, unwavering love and acceptance that the world so often withheld from him. Even now, he actively seeks out them out when the endless streams of errands in Lucidio start to make him feel a bit too lonely, a bit too isolated. He adores their frequent visits very much, and is always noticeably livelier than usual for a few days afterwards. Avriel loves them dearly. 🍂
✦ Height Chart
✦ Afterword from Distant Lands
You’ve reached the end of this monstrously long post. Congratulations! You survived 😌✨ I really appreciate the time you’ve taken to see this little person that I made, so. Thank you. Thank you very much. Ahead is an afterword elaborating a little more on the background of Avriel’s relationship with the others. I tried to make it short, but… it appears I’m not very good at this short and sweet thing. 🫡
When I started forming Avriel, I wanted to make it clear that he had imperfections of his own. He has qualities that will make him clash with the other characters of Uroboros — at the beginning, anyway.
(In case you missed the link at the top of the post, Avriel is my MC for Uroboros by @uroboros-if !)
Due to his passive tendencies and his subconscious wish to preserve the “peace” that he has carved out for himself, Avriel will initially be extremely wary of Alessi and everything they stand for. The fall of the reign of the gods? He really doesn’t like the sound of that. But passive he may be, Avriel carries a heart that stubbornly longs to love the world and all its beings. The things Alessi will show him may just break Avriel out of the passive shell he's unknowingly created 🫡 I’m looking forward to seeing how they will clash and develop together in the future.
Avriel will have to look past the lens of his hero worship for Luciel in order to truly understand the person they are — imperfections and all. Though come what may, you can rest assured that Avriel will always be Luciel’s number one supporter! But to close that distance between them, Avriel will have to do his part and understand that putting the other person on a pedestal will only do more harm than good to a relationship.
His relationship with Luciel is inspired by the ‘looking’ scene with them. I imagine Avriel halting in place and staring Very Starry-eyed at Luciel during the times he meets them as the text from the Looking scene skitters through his head at the speed of light, a scenario I find extremely funny and will hold onto till the day I die. The MC talks about Luciel’s eyes and kindness a lot, and I took that fact and ran with it.
Salvatore… Avriel's relationship with him is quite complex. I’ll wait to see how future chapters develop before I write more about their relationship. However, I will say that I pounced on these paragraphs from the game to use as a foundation:
He opens and closes his mouth, tasting the words on his tongue before deciding. "Please, let's speak another time! I wish to hear more from you."
You see a glimpse of his younger self—Salvatore from a bygone era, when things seemed less complicated, less troubling. You think time has robbed him a part of his spirit. He has become busy. So very busy.
I suppose I felt a faint sense of regret from that last paragraph. The regret of standing before a person once so very close to you, and now so changed. For the better, most people would say, but Avriel secretly wishes that Salvatore could have stayed as happy and carefree as in the past. Though Avriel doesn’t really know that. He’s not one for introspection. He just feels very complicated whenever he meets Salvatore, though he still does his best to regale the deity with comedic retellings of his errands in Lucidio. Just to make Salvatore laugh.
As for Ciocana, I’ll also wait to see how future chapters develop before further shaping his relationship with Avriel. I feel that Ciocana has a lot of hidden depth that we have yet to see. But going off of initial impressions alone, I can say that Avriel definitely had a very good first impression of the other deity. It was an instant squish, if you will. Avriel’s boundless energy syncs quite well with Ciocana’s mischief, and if given enough time to develop, I feel their dynamic has the potential to become the “ride or die (enthusiastic)” kind. 🫡✨
Aaand, that’s all. Thank you for reading this far (again). If you've somehow managed to read this far, then 💐🥺💍hand in marriage pls. Avriel was a joy to create, and I’m really looking forward to seeing how he develops in the future. The world within Uroboros is so wonderfully crafted, its characters so vividly alive; Avriel would not have existed without it. I’m very grateful to the author for sharing their world with us. Thank you. Have a very good day, and may you all have as much fun writing and creating your characters as I did!
➸ Picrew:
#uroboros if#deity of eternity#uroboros mc#me (staring intensely through a microscope): do you hide great emotional turmoil. do you carry a heavy resentment even you are not aware of#avriel: :3 ?#they never tell you how hard it is to write an optimistic himbo character that grew up under awful situations#it's hard to keep that balance of cheerful himbo-ness and Emotional Angst#because no matter how well adjusted they may seem#those extremely Not Good experiences STILL happened#and are still happening#and that has to affect them in some way#i have so many scrapped drafts of a much more angsty avriel rotting in my google doc#avriel is still very much a mystery to me#this post is so monstrously terribly long ack#i don't know how That happened i'm so sorry#anyone who actually made it through this entire post is a warrior frfr#im kissing your foreheads#mwah mwah mwah#i haven't written anything that wasn't an essay or reflection paper for school#for like four years#so i may have COUFGH gone a little overboard COUGH COUGH COUGHF#ah and if you've seen avriel's character track sheet on discord before#i've revised it a few times since then!#aspen's blorbos.txt#oc stuff#interactive fiction
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Justifying The Aftermath
wordcount : 2.1k+
warning : mention of animal abuse, emeto
content : lashing out, electrocution, vomiting, whumper!caretaker, lady whump, lab whump, whumper pov, manhandling
This is it! The last day of Summer of Whump. It's been fun, writing and reading more whump from this event. Can't wait for next year! Tagging : @summer-of-whump
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Previous Chapter
"Breathe deeply, Fenrir."
Her stare was full of contempt. There was still a sharp edge on her two fangs. Blue veins jutting out under her arms and legs. She was much older than John, late in her twenties. Prior affiliation indicated if she wasn't a murderer or an arsonist then she's an accomplice to one. He didn't dare to take a step further. Even when her left arm was tucked in a sling, the other connected to an IV, the general scrapes and bruises on her face, or the fact that she couldn't sit up so the infirmary nurse had to raise her bed to prevent her lungs collapsing in on itself.
Fenrir spat, and it hit him in the chest despite the distance.
John took out his napkin, "I mean it for your well-being. Your rib fracture wasn't severe, but your recovery will be greatly stalled if you manage to get yourself pneumonia."
"And then what? Brainwashing? I had to be Empire's hunting dog? I'd rather die."
"You're contributing to the public good. We're not lying."
"You think turning people into living weapons is for the greater good?" Fenrir grinned, covering the upper half of her face with her palm. "Rich kids are easy to brainwash."
"We were forced. If terrorist groups like those Heretics you love so much doesn't terrorize the managers then we wouldn't have to spend so much time on defense!"
John watched the rise of Fenrir's chest as she spoke. Her breath was fast and shallow.
"Heretics are a new thing. The humans living in the Orients and the Border Islands have existed long before the Ship fell into our grounds. The Empire wasn't reacting to them when they sent out the first Seed and they sure as hell does not need a living monster to weed out a bunch of poors with a handmade grenade. What the Empire doing is never defense, child. They're hungry for control."
Child. It filled him contempt. He might have been younger than her but look who had their life sorted out? An internship with the smartest minds of the earth, a girl waiting back home, and a few years worth of savings. John is more mature, educated in things other than the vulgarity of drink and merrymaking.
Forgetting his fear, John leaned on the side of Fenrir's bed. He loomed above her. "Your problem is that you're uneducated. You had a brilliant mind, but you didn't go to school or truly learn how to think the big picture. The facts you learned was baseless. The Radicals got to you first and I'm sorry for that."
The glare she gave sharpened, and for a second John believed she's going to lunge at him. Luckily she was only taking a deep breath.
"Uneducated? I've written essays, planned raids, and build gardens! I might not be an engineer, but I know more about the world than you."
"This is a waste of time. You're insulting instead of discussing."
"Explain how calling me uneducated isn't an insult."
John run his fingers through his hair, "I'm here only to look at your progress. Look, I think Heretics are too caught up in their pain. They experienced bad things and blame the Empire. But it's just the world. You need to struggle and work and-"
"Mind if I cut in?" Fenrir doesn't wait for John. "Since you want an argument, I want to acknowledge we both had a different view of reality. It's just our sources. But you need to think about what they taught you. I assume you're referring to the workhouses."
"Yes. That, and the jails. I know most of you are former convicts."
She ramped up in intensity. Fenrir raised her voice. "They might told you it's just a struggle, but have you even been there? Eat the rat-pissed grain and get yelled off for sitting? Have you ever questioned if the papers telling their story reflects reality? Managers owned the workhouses. They owned the papers. Of course they only said good things about it. They got away with untold evil because you trust them!"
The long histrionic rant left Fenrir with a coughing fit. John's answer were simple.
"Who's to say you didn't lie to me to sympathize with them?"
"Ask ten men working in the poor house. If anecdotes don't phase you then read some statistics my group works on."
"I'll do it." If John had the time, which was virtually nonexistent. If he had the guts because none of his friends including him know a guy like that, and approaching workhouse residents can get you robbed "Later. Wartimes are a bitch."
Fenrir chuckled, her mood has lightened up. "Aren't we all united under a single flag? Why is there still a war?"
A rhetorical question and a trap. Why is Fenrir likes to anger herself so much? Either way, he's not taking the bait. What a sad life, suspecting every thing you hear might be misinformation. The Empire could never lie about something so grave. They had principles. John had seen firsthand how his life have been easy because his family knows the rules and how go around the proceedings. It's imperfect, but it's definitely better than whatever the Heretics are going for.
For a week, John and Lisette have been adjusting. Visiting Fenrir separately, taking notes of trigger buttons and quirks. This Fenrir was different, and the way she was exposed to the substance made a different sort of Dog, besides the mutations. They need to re-do experiments, test new things, even change up their approach. Fenrir was always angry, and there's this restless energy around her. Avoiding certain topics and sneaking up sweets for her seem to calm her down a little, but that restless edge was still there.
Not a concern. Not since Fenrir's ribs and shoulder had mostly healed. Not after they've think up strategies to temper her prickly disposition and contain the emotional outburst after her first testing. Not when they drug her when she's already asleep before transporting her to the forest.
They were expecting a tantrum. The soldiers prepared stun guns, flash bangs, anything that could assault her heightened senses. Professor Clayton personally stitched the taser cuffs on her ankle. Something John had spent a great deal of time debating against. He was overruled. Lisette took their superior's side. In the end, the shock collar was necessary.
"I think she's getting through to you," Lisette teased.
"Oh shut up. I was trying to meet her halfway." The image in their cameras are somehow better. Some were blank, filled with static courtesy of Fenrir's rampage. But the few that left thrived, vivid contrasts and colours detailing her figure among the half-eaten animal. Alien techs are on another level. "She was taught to expect cruelty from us. We can't reform her if we proved her right."
"I think that's unfair. She'd done bad things, just because she was radicalized to do so doesn't mean she's exempt from punishment."
John leaned on his chair, "But we're not judges. We're scientists. We should refrain from any cruelty unless it's sanctioned by the State."
"Yeah, right." The speakers blared with a distorted buzz of a helicopter. They were silent as it lands at the edge of the forest. Lisette went on, "so you've already told the King you'll stitch Fenrir's wound without anesthetic?"
"You're missing the point."
"What is it then? Don't get me wrong, I think she deserves it. She was a terrorist. But I won't delude myself that they'll bring her to court. No, the way this goes is she'll work for us and be given an honorary medal when all of our testing eventually gives her brain damage."
Lisette leaned closer to the screen. Her expression unreadable. Professor and his soldiers had found Fenrir. She haven't moved from her position. Still kneeling, dirty blonde hair matted with blood. They practically jumped at her. Seizing the shoulders, heaving her up, and kicking her in the legs to disturb her balance. Two men at the side, another sticking a gun on the back of her head. Professor Clayton kept his distance, the switch for the taser cuffs firmly in his pocket.
She glanced at John. The silence of the room grows opressive. He leaned to his microphone, eyes still intently looking at the screen. Fenrir let her feet dragged against the ground. Her head hung low, eyes half-lidded. Not looking at anything at particular. Quiet.
That period of trepidation passes. Fenrir doesn't fight, doesn't even squirm as they put the earmuffs and blindfold on her. She arrives, her knees buckling and fall on the floor. The strength had gone out of her.
First test passed with flying colors. The trigger serum worked. They didn't have to kept her half-dead to maintain her beast form. But the devil is in the details, how much does she have to lose? It was John's assignment to figure it out.
On first glance, Fenrir seemed to have crossed that line. John could smell death from her. Her entire body is covered in dried blood, yet she didn't seem bothered. She stared at the desk, gripping the towel they gave and picking at the threads.
"Fenrir."
"My name is Avis."
John kneeled in front of her, taking the towel. She was shivering, and her fingers were shaking in a way that suggest it was more than the cold. He wrapped the bloodied cloth around her shoulders.
"You're supposed to cover yourself like this," John brings the ends of the towel to her two hands. He hold her clasped arms, gently pulling it so the fabric would cover more of her body.
"I know that," Fenrir absently murmured.
Looking closer, it was a grisly sight. Blood runs from her gums. Pieces of the camera were stuck under her long nails. Dust and dirt were sticking under the coat of dried blood. The shock bracelet was still there.
"I was going to give you a few test before we took you to the infirmary again but maybe you need medical help and a shower first. How's that?"
She looked at him. The hateful stare was still there. "Do you think this is justified?"
"We needed to test your power. Your blood could save millions, only if we know what to do with it."
Fenrir burst into a laugh, "Making me ate two dogs alive could save people?!"
"Fenrir—"
"Don't call me that!" She stood, still taller from the transformation. Her eyes were burning from tears she's desperately holding back. Her stomach hurts. The smell of her body made her sick. Even more disgusting when it reminds her of what she'd done. "I'm not fucking stupid. I'm going to be a warbeast and the only thing I'll save is the Empire's stolen property!"
"Sit down. Please. Let's get you a bath and we'll talk this out, alright?"
Fenrir took a step back. John wished they bother to bring in her handcuffs, if only for his piece of mind. "How could you see me out there and think this is okay?"
"You're right. It's not okay."
It's justified. But John was at lost for words. He nodded, "I know you're in distress. I hear you. Let me help."
"Then leave!" Fenrir yelled. "Acknowledge for once that this entire operation is senseless violence!"
John throw his testing papers on to the desk. His voice grew cold, "You're a hypocrite. You burned houses, destroyed machines, terrorize my friend's families. How could you do all of that and think this is bad?"
"You didn't know, no, you refuse to see the destruction and terror they've caused. And when it became too big for you to ignore, you're going to pretend they've hid it from you all this time or you've got no choice but to follow their orders."
Fenrir reached for the papers, and for the next thing they both now was that her screamed reverbrate through the room. She was on the floor. Seizing. Her limbs jerked, hitting the nearby table. Blood runs from her ankles, and John looked at the door to find his mentor leaning against the frame with the remote.
"Get her a bath, John."
He nodded. She was too weak to fight him off. Little aftershocks plagued her body even as he helped her sit.
"Come on, we should go."
"No, wait." Fenrir hold the leg of the desk in a vice grip. She kept her mouth tightly shut, and there's a bit a green around the outlines of her face. She felt her cheeks burning. Saliva pooling in her mouth. John shook her shoulders. The movement was a straw that broke the camel's back.
She gagged, heaving out a gush of acid and pre-digested flesh. The chunks of meat triggered another bout of vomiting. Each wave of nausea more stronger than the last.
"It's alright," John said, rubbing her back, "Let it out. You'll feel better."
Soon enough, her stomach was empty. She was nodding off, her eyes glassy with tears. John the only thing keeping her from slumping down on her own sick.
"You're a monster," Fenrir muttered.
Next Chapter
#summerofwhump30#summer of whump#lady whump#lashing out#lab whump#electrocution#emeto cw#animal abuse mention#whumper as caretaker#futuristic whump#manhandling
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