#thirios

[artstationable]

Anastasios Gionis

Creature and character modeler at Blizzard Entertainment

artstation

More from «Artstation» here

[zenithium-blog1]

🌌 @thirios​ 

TIME IS BUT AN ILLUSION IN THIS LIMBO. There are no days, nights, hours, minutes, or seconds ! There is only the Unknown – an endless, yawning expanse which only SIMULATES reality. Plays with thy mind this place does. But the Beast has remained here – NOT LIVED, NEVER LIVED – his soul now a reminiscent flicker inside a cage of ink brass, for who knows how long now. Will one count the contorted faces which are carved into his form like one counts the rings of a tree which has been cracked open ? Is this what he so hides beneath that cloak of his – a TRUE EXPOSITION of just how much time has passed – a DEMONIC MURAL of just how many souls he has harvested to feed his own soul ? Caution now, for if you do, the Beast will try to EAT YOU TOO.

                           You shall be forgotten in the passage of this LOST TIME. For you are neither here nor are you there – you are somewhere in between – a place no one really knows, so they call it THE UNKNOWN. But what inside this purgatory lies something one can label as opportunity ? For the Beast,opportunity lies herein his forest, luring souls away from their DWINDLING, GASPING HOPE, and taking them for his own. Yet for him – this is no mere opportunity, but a necessity for his survival. Every soul that crosses through here MUST BE HIS FOR THE TAKING. For all he knew – opportunity could be as fickle as that flame in his lantern.

                               ❛   THERE IS NO TIME HERE, TRAVELER.                                    There is only the present, and right now,                                                   there is only you – and ME. ❜

                  ❝ So time has no meaning, hm ? Quite an interesting trap you’ve set, Beast. ❞ Your voice remains level and professional, an effective mask for the uncertainty that had begun to stir in the pit of your stomach. A dimension where time didn’t exist... Where the sinuous river of history had frozen into a winding line of permafrost, its icy tendrils seeping into every last water molecule that dared to flow beneath. There was only the everlasting present, a single moment hanging in limbo between the past and the future. 

                         Though you have been traveling for what seems like centuries, no, MILLENIA, you can still feel youth’s vigor coursing in your veins. Yet you continue to feel the effects of time acting on you; your body continues to age and your mind continues to grow as you travel from one dimension to the next. You, Atlas, carry the world upon your leaden shoulders, which only becomes heavier as time passes by. This is your life now. This is your BURDEN to bear.

                       And yet you keep trudging on, driven by childlike curiosity. That is how scientists work after all. They are children at heart, always asking questions, poking, prying, trying to understand the world around them. Even if there are matters that are better left undiscovered or if they are staring right in the eye, they will take all risks to expand the plethora of human knowledge. This is your opportunity to understand this dimension where time does not exist. To draw the line between brave pioneer and foolhardy adventurer.

                     Piercing eyes fixate upon luminous orbs, arms crossing over your chest. ❝ Then tell me, what are you trying to get out of me ?  ❞

[perignotus-a]

        THIN-SOLED SHOES SUNK INTO  the soft  dirt as the  young  girl  stood—feet         becoming roots ages and  centuries deep in  their earthen home.    Eyes blinked,         scanning  through the lines  of trees as she  searched for  something;    what her         mind told  her was home to her  back and the unknown  sprawling endlessly out         in front of her. 

        She remembered  fields  for some  reason.    Dirt under  her fingernails  and the         smell of potatoes.

        Unplaced memories—or perhaps illusions—behind her,    she stepped forward,         feet  forming  to the  contour  of the dirt  and river  rocks.     Though  practically         barefoot,   no heed was payed as she glided forward,  freckled fingers carefully         grasping at her dress as she walked. 

        This was her home,  was it not?     Sixteen winters,  her mind told her,   sixteen         harvests,   sixteen summers spent here chasing the dog,  making sure the little         ones didn’t fall into the river,   begrudgingly making sure they were all inside in         time for  supper—herself  included—and then  begrudgingly  cleaning up  their         mess afterwards. And yet everything surrounding her was somehow unfamiliar. 

        Stationary in the middle of a clearing,  Beatrice turned,  taking in the trees that         stood  guard  and  engulfed  the  perimeter of  where  she stood.    Completely         unknowing of just how long she had been walking,    she looked upward at the         sky,    which  failed  to offer  any  further  indication  of how long  she had been         gone.     Fear was not  something she  often let into bed  and it would  have no         place here,   she told herself,    swallowing the apprehension bubbled up in her         throat. She would just have to retrace her steps. She could find home again.

[macalcre-archived-blog]

casually pushes bill out the way. write about me

  see the stars in black infinity and glass shards scratching through the  green house prison walls  through these windows you see the night time frigates approaching on  dark waters  its occupational risk increases, persists. black algae grows, disfiguring  our body search.  the world turns to an incomprehensible mask of red and no phrase feels good  departing my tongue  emotion is caged birds; this is no aviary you are no keeper, withdraw!  your antler arms.  threatening the stability of the ballet that does not belong to parties like these.

[herosnatcher-blog]

OKAY CASPER LIKE. I'VE KNOWN YOU FOR SO LONG AND. You always put so much effort and thinking into the muses you play. ESPECIALLY RGB! You always talk to me about your headcanons and JUST THINGS ABOUT RGB and I'm sitting over here smiling like a dork cause you just SOUND LIKE YOU LOVE RGB SO MUCH it's inspiring. You write him so well and THAT PLAYLIST you made him fits so perfectly like wow. Just. KEEP BEING AMAZING OKAY??

anonymously tell me what you think of my character portrayal. i can’t respond; i can only publish.

[nctadummy-blog]

Tilts his head at the wooden entity, a quiet chuckle emerging as he moved closer, two hands clasping a small token... a treat! For the possessed puppet. Opening both hands, the Beast took the small turtle with a single hand and offered it to the strange, yet undeniably curious being. "Treat it well."

Needless to say, the dummy wasn’t expecting a run-in with a mysterious forest-dweller. However, maybe this was a sign of some sort. Get on this guy’s good side, and maybe he could help him out on his quest for world domination!

Slappy looked at the turtle for a moment before taking it from the beastly figure. A… gift? He’d never really gotten a gift from anyone before, let alone a pet of his own. A brow raised in curiosity as he looked at the turtle in his wooden hand. Oh well, might as well take care of it; who knows what kind of force this guy was when angered.

“Uh, thanks, I guess,” he said. “It’s… somethin’ alright.”