Candle's Art Book

Protogen - Arctic

The cynic of the Divine Intervention, Arctic is the twin brother of the spunky Northern. Once a rather out-there and happy individual, upon the defeat of Divento and experiencing the rush of erasure that was the bomb, and the eventual dissolvement of the Divine Intervention, Arctic came to feel rather cynical about the universe.

A glass half empty type of guy, Arctic found himself feeling rather jaded, rather miffed, about the universe. Knowing that it could've all been taken away by a singular rogue deity, and the only reason as to why they ever knew it was happening was because he was jaded about the other gods and wanted to kill them.

That was the only reason.

To say that Arctic doesn't see the universe as his "twin" did would be a rather vast understatement.

Grim and dark and just a tad edgy, Arctic found himself becoming a bit of an outlaw to the government, although he's always welcome at the Divine Institute. He travels to different planets aboard his personalized ship, much like Cardinal, but would rather keep a low profile and just do whatever he likes.

Which is mostly fighting.

The universe is dark, and the universe is very frightening. It's wrong. But even the cynical and dismayed Arctic knows that regardless of it, if he can prevent life from being snuffed out he would. Even if he could hardly care about his own.

Scarred and twisted and deformed, Arctic now goes by a different name amongst the many planets. Too contorted from his sleek appearance aboard the Divine Intervention, he no longer resembles the old Arctic that once could only summon snowballs.

The Testimony is who he is now, and he'll make sure that that black letter he received will not be in vain.

Story - Testimony of the Saint and Sinner

Falling.

Falling in a tangle of limbs, in a flesh-pit of organs and bloodied viscera, of cacophony and death and violence. A galaxy of children who've only seen red.

Flailing, unending screaming. The cold light betraying the warm dark, the hideous malformities being sliced, cleaved in two. The generations cast into the cold of non-existence, the eons of ages being snuffed like a candle in the wind.

The cold whimper that signifies the end of the white-hot bang.

Falling forever downward in a spiral of shells. Circling in a blaze of cool light and hot dark. The emptiness of fullness and the fullness that came from emptiness.

A protogen falling. Falling.

Hitting the ground.

Splattering

Gushing.

Oozing.

Rotting

Decaying.

Arctic's optics clicked to life, whirring as the old mechanics flared back up. The warmth of the shadows of the room seemed to breathe with the protogen's unneeded breath. A thick groan, eliciting a deeper shrill beating of a mechanical heart, thinly escaped the protogen's faux-lips.

The nightmare. One that Arctic had many times before.

The Testimony eased himself up from his bed, a mish-mash of wooden beams and skeletal steel, mixed together with unsteady hands and amateur prestige. His thin, twisted body groaned, the tight, destroyed muscles of his right-hand side causing a numbing pain to crawl through his spine.

The protogen's needle-like eyes blinked to light, appearing in a simulated cloud of pixelated dust. Arctic blinked a fair few times, allowing the tiredness that still etched itself on his face to fade away, the deep pixel bags underneath the jagged eye-spots betraying his supposed wakefulness.