#adellia

[maksndraws]

Happy New Year everyone~!! Here’s to yet another amazing year and all! :3

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Now OPEN for commissions, DM me for any inquiries! Follow me on Instagram~

[maksndraws]

"You're my plaything now."

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Here's a painting I've made for my bf's birthday last August, but with some tweaks to the anatomy and color, plus a little cleanup here and there :D 

--Our characters, Adellia (kinda OOC here) and Cornelius! <3

[maksndraws]

Violetta and Adellia ballpen sketch in my notebook u w u

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"If we’re lucky, that thing might even kill us! Come on!" Name: Adellia Also Known As: ‘Princess,’ or sometimes ‘Um Is She Okay.’ Occupation: Assassin, healer, creeper. Age: early 20s Height: 5’3” Weight: 117 lbs. Appearance: A lithe human with lustrous blue-black hair that parts on either side of her face and frames her pert, ever-smiling lips and glass-pale eyes. Her olive skin is notable for being completely clear of any scars or blemishes whatsoever, as if editing filters had been applied to her physical person. 

History: She freely tells a story about how she was kidnapped from a farm and tortured until her latent psychic talent was honed, and then applied to suicidally dangerous assassination missions. She also freely tells a story about how she was rescued from her torment by a giant stuffed snoglug. It is left to the listener to decide how much truth lies in either story.

Faction: Despite the trail of Imperial bodies she has left in her peculiarly chipper wake, she continues to receive and fulfill contracts from the Dominion.

Associates: She travels with a Draken whom she calls “Bite” but respects more than anyone, the handsome murderer Atticus Javan, a horrible Chua named Aloysius P. Dhonk, and a beautiful savage Draken warrior named Goll. 

Alignment: Chaotic cheerful. Motivations: Being dead, or barring that, making others happy. Disposition: ^_________^ Outlook: "That’s wonderful! It looks like it really hurts!" Religion/Philosophy: Not something she gives much thought to. Ever. Balloons are nice. Sexuality: Ostensibly pansexual. She is flirtatious in a wide-eyed sort of way and that flirtatiousness extends to almost everyone (not Chua), but she does not give details regarding specific encounters, if any exist.

Negative Personality Traits: Sadistic. Unsettling gaze. Tends to say literally exactly what is on her mind. Rarely has good or nice things on her mind. Highly erratic and unpredictable. Positive Personality Traits: Pleasant and cheerful. Trained in courtly behavior. Follows direction exceedingly well. Works well with others. Always smells nice. Likes: Balloons and lanterns. Making people happy. Dancing. Fire. Dancing in fire. Ice cream. Plush toys. Kissing. Dislikes: Being alive. Cigarette and cigar smoke. Chua. Dominion scientists. Chua who are also Dominion scientists.

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balloons

Through the grated window, there was sunlight and a blue sky.

They’d used a staple gun, like the kind one might punch pieces of shingle to beams of wood, to hold her eyelids open. Blood had stopped dripping from the little wounds, and instead her red, swollen eyes twitched away from the occasional bit of putrid scab-crust that would occasionally flake free when someone would strike her. Even holding her eyes open couldn’t keep them from rolling up in the back of her skull when she would sometimes fall unconscious.

The film playing on the wall was a trite, even obvious one - Triumph of the Dominion. Gleaming rows of Dominion soldiers marching up and down the square, fleets of warships and carriers dotting a starry sky in a perfect spherical matrix. The stars of the galaxy and the stars of the Empire, and the Emperor stood tall in the center. She had the whole thing memorized, could recite it and even match the stentorian, declamatory tones of the speakers when they came onscreen.

There was a fair. Children played outside. Over the sound of marching feet, she could hear giggling and laughing. One of them held a balloon, given by a nice man with scales and a long tail.

She held most of her teeth in her hand. Blood poured from her ruined gums and bitten-off tongue and smashed in nose. Her chest was icy and cold and sticky, and her breasts hung in weird directions; her skin sagged over the smashed ruin of her ribcage. Every breath dragged pus and mucus and more and more blood up, to be coughed out in little spasms onto the concrete floor. Her vision disappeared when the hammer came down onto her skull, but she could feel the warm jelly of her eye creeping down her face.

The balloon burst with a flash of color, causing the little boys and girls to scream and titter in delight. The big man smiled beneath his black-tipped mane of quills. A chua next to him, with his bushy mustache, clapped his hands. “Much fun! Such colors! Children overjoyed - will report success.”

Although the soldiers around her were wearing respirators and exo-suits, she was clad only in a form-fitting grey jumpsuit. One dainty hand held a small steel egg; the other was held outward, and above it floated a jagged wheel of blades. A door opened before her. There were men and women in lab coats, and lots and lots of tubes and beakers. Some humanoid shapes floated in cryo-pods. Some people pointed guns at her, and then died gurgling. The blade returned to her outstretched hand, dripping blood.

The egg beeped, and then opened. Yellow gas spewed from inside.The scientists screamed, turned purple, died gibbering and begging the uncaring gods for mercy. So did the soldiers with her; confusion became panic when the gas began to ate through the filters of their respirators and penetrate the seals of their exo-suits. Their nerves stiffened; their eyes became bloodshot, and they ran for the door behind them. The one that was locked.

She began to cry, and then to scream. Her skin felt like it was melting. Her lungs were searing. Every breath she tried to take made her wish she would just die. Her skin was turning purple. Blood vessels were bursting beneath her skin. She imagined a balloon, bursting with color. Or a pretty lantern.

A human man, lean and smirky, came in the company of a female draken with powerful arms and a biiiiiig sword strapped to her back. They both carried paper lanterns, brightly lit. The sky was purple and the stars were smiling. The four of them were friends and they were so happy to see the children playing.

The door to the torture room opened. There was no one inside, but the film was still playing, projected on the wall, broken up by the grated window in the center that faced outward into the dingy grey of the adjacent building in the nondescript block where they trained people like her, where no sunshine could possibly reach. She automatically began to mouth the words being said. The Dominion would triumph, said the Emperor, and he clenched his fist and placed it in front of his chest.

Adellia clenched her own, dripping with someone else’s blood, and saluted her Emperor in return. Behind her, in the hallway, the screams of her former tormentors were growing quiet and faint. She imagined a lantern, and the light of that lantern closed the bullet holes in her chest and stomach.

She wondered if the Emperor liked balloons.

[maksndraws]

Random old sketch I found in my notebook! Behold the somewhat older Violetta design!!