Atreus App + Per
Proud-Dust Jan 24th, 2020 106 in 152 days
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- |name = Atreus
- |image.png =
- |image artist = Firesides
- |creator = Proud-Dust
- |attribute = Farsighted
- |element = Night
- |theme animal = Eagle
- |color = Sunset
- |theme song =
- |MBTI type =
- |age = 19 (Scavenger Years)
- |gender = Male
- |occupation = The Hope's Heir
- |orientation = Asexual Homoromantic
- |tribe = Ice (predominantly) <br>Night<br>Sand
- |goal = Eliminate the Empire <br>Build towards a kinder Pridian through the Hope
- |residence = Adytum (main base of the Hope)
- |family = Archousa Leukos (mother)<br>Archon Plutarch (father, deceased)<br>Atropos (sister)
- |allies = Leukos<br>Atropos<br>The Hope<br>The Empire<br>Kain
- |enemies = The Empire<br>Cal
- |likes =
- |dislikes =
- |powers = No fire-breathing abilities<br>No ice-breathing abilities<br>Sharpshooting skills
- |weapons = Two Hope-issued pistols<br>One custom-issue sniper rifle<br>Cunning
- |ships = Kaineus (Kain + Atreus)
- |quote = "My father's been buried, yet his ghost pushes my mother to never risk another soul to war. That leaves me to bear the weight of a continent, heavy on my command. My sight must be focused on Pridian's last hope always, stilled like ice."
- Katafýgio = Shelter, Refuge
- ''"You have so much of me in you, son... but your father is there where it counts."''<br>
- : ''—Leukos, upon Atreus' fifth hatchday.''
- Sharp and lithe, Atreus shares the limb and main body features and the deadly presence that his mother possesses in lesser quantity now. Standing at slightly above average to the rest of his tribe, more than a handful are capable of towering over him among the Hope's numbers. His arms are lean as spears, but toned, and capable of seeing and committing to battle.
- However, he carries no pincer or whip on his normally IceWing tail. One oddity of him, thanks to his father's blood, are his talons, lacking the ridged, serrated edges of his mother's tribe, but being the nimble and quick SandWing talons, sharp claws with excellent dexterity.
- His face, however, is a different inheritance story. Angular with a strong jaw, long and pointed horns, starry speckles the color of a desert sunset upon his snout, and cheekbones as wide as the night sky, there is more of his father on him than his mother wants now. There's a controlled, poised tightness to his facial muscles, as if he is trying to lock away hesitation and sentiment behind the surface of his expressions.
- He walks and stands with efficiency, balanced, taking care to make sure to control his every movement as to not let a single motion go to waste, not one for idle drumming of fingers or tapping of feet against tables or floors, respectively.
- His eyes, however, the most striking quality about him. As blue as winter's ice, but flecked with the orange of a summer's sun, they are sober-minded and farsighted, ones that capture every detail from afar and those that others will listen to when that gaze meets their eyes. He always will meet someone's eye-level with them and never turn away until the discussion is done, two pits of unbroken ice.
- His main body looks covered in snow, the white of his mother's blood in him, looking like overlapping snowflakes, trying to freeze away at warm limbs, his underbelly only a brighter, more snow-driven shade of white. Atreus' entire body seems to be covered in snow, arms, to his legs, to his broad shoulders, yet it stops short of his wrists and neck, looking like the border between a desert at nightfall and snow, edges crusted with flakes.
- His talons and head, however, are colored the shades of desert sands upon the night time, a colder, almost blackish beige, that of his father. His IceWing spines, piercing and thorny to touch, however, are bone-white like his mother's. A last feature to note being his wings, snow shaded on the outside, but decorated with scattered, wide-spreading starry constellations on the inner membranes like his father.
- His usual attire is a double-layered military leather jacket, a night blue to signify the dark times of the Empire, streaked and toned with sunset, the Hope's white sunburst upon the cloth where the heart rested underneath. Adorning the fabric are metal pins, fresh forged from the engineers, of the alliances with smaller groups he had managed to bring into the Hope's fold.
- A pair of sniper's glasses rests on the neckline of the double-layered jacket, its lens ice-blue and with special features for when he gets terse and furious, a rare occasion... but always one to avoid. He carries two gun holsters on his waist, preferring to cite diplomacy and not resort to fear-mongering as a first tactic... but always prepared to getting bloody-minded to pave peace.
- One last note of his appearance is that, after a certain assassin crossed paths with him, he has acquired claw marks onto his neck, something he brushes upon whenever dealing with another victim of the Empire.
- ''"Our Hope's Heir is not a harsh dragon, nor a cruel leader... but his command is never warm and his voice keeps us at a distance, his eyes especially cold, never inviting us in. They are walls as tall of the once-towering Great Ice Cliff."''<br>
- : ''—Tukhe, one of the Hope's ranks, during Atreus' fifth year of age.''
- Atreus is, above all else, the Hope's heir, and he consciously reflects that in his character. He is an austere, dragon who is always mindful of his duty for his mother's sake. A dragon who weighs the consequences of every word and action before committing, thinking beyond the dragons before his eyes and more into strategy. This mode of operation is apparent enough that even Pridian's members think, as he grows up, that Atreus is aloof, standoffish, and ''cold'' in a way his mother wasn't before the death of his father and her mate, who could be determined and stern herself, but still capable of warmer cordiality.
- He is professional and sober, willing to work with the soldiers under his command and never cruel with them. Usually clear-headed with rare instances of fury, he is capable of taking command at a small battlefield or a diplomatic table, using precise diction to dictate military orders and negotiation terms alike. He will never sacrifice a soldier without much deliberation, understanding the Hope's numbers are outnumbered by the Empire's, leaving them much to lose in a war of attrition. Though he may be a competent general and statesdragon, never one for deceit or subterfuge, he is not warm towards his soldiers.
- He also tunnel-visions too hard on the Empire, thinking all it would take to bring forth the ideal Pridian would be eliminating the Empire and tearing it down, root and stem, especially thinking too hard into the future here and neglecting all the unwilling soldiers or killers, being underprivileged compared to his more comfortable upbringing and having little choice but to join or starve, thinking too far into the future that he misses the innocents underneath for the tyranny overseeing them. A flaw he fails to internalize until one reminds him forcibly.
- He is also consumed by the weight of having Pridian's future on his every choice and decision. Having witnessed the grief that fell among his mother after his father's death, his realization that his command is what's standing between a better Pridian and the Empire's continued reign has left him trying to cut away at useless emotions, especially those of grief and regret and loss, so that he would never falter in his mission. While leaving him a precise and efficient dragon, this has left him stunted in the minutiae of emotions, the smaller feelings, and leaving them locked away deep in his heart.
- Deep down, in his heart, there are some passions he yearns for. At rare times, when his mother or sister force him to spend some time alone to relax, he reads stories about the Adamas Delta, formerly the Diamond Spray Delta, Borrhas, formerly the Ice Kingdom, and, finally, the Apex Mountains at the heart of Pridian, formerly the Claws of the Clouds Mountains, and wonders how wonderful it'd be to fly across that stretch of mountain without worries of the Empire weighing one's wings, a desire passed down from his father. He also enjoys mediation as a past-time, helping him clear his mind during those forced breaks.
- From these, there's a childish part of him that wishes he could indulge in such flights of fancy, of adventure and freedom, but he pushes himself harder so that others can enjoy the world he would spend his life trying to better. He pushes his soldiers just as hard as he would himself, never harsh, but severe and unflinching of demands during their shifts, except for when they break for rest, Atreus still relentless at work, taking every step to build towards the Hope's dream. He overworks himself to the bone, ignoring his fatigue and dwindling stamina, and only rests when his mother and sister both beg him to rest.
- He loves and cares, more obviously with his family, but he cares enough to bear the weight the Hope on his shoulders without complaint. With his younger sister, Atropos, the Hope's head engineer, he takes heart in her words for not suffocating him in restricting his freedom or thinking him fragile glass and telling him to self-manage himself, though Atreus fails to internalize that advice entirely. With his mother, Atreus both loves and resents her, understanding her grief and knowing the love that comes with it while chafing at the sheer overprotective nature of her post-Plutarch raising of him.
- However, there are baser, pettier emotions boiling in Atreus. Frustration and resentment at his mother's, and some of the Hope's, over-bearing attitude towards him, an overcompensating need to prove himself as a worthy heir that leaves his personal life in shambles, and a fierce temper that he strives to lock away, not wanting to boil over his anger... but something that, when awoken after long periods of stress and a sharp catalyst, boils over and starts getting vicious and merciless towards those that temper is directed towards.
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