#alendinian

i’ve answered a question like this on twitter, but i can elaborate more here!          ( @alendinian )

childa’s origins date back allllll the way to my early childhood! her original name was “luxa” (a name i gave her sometime around 2008) this may sound sad, but i drew her as a sort of “buddy”. i was a lonely kid. still kinda lonely now

her intial design was made in 2010, and she looked like this:

she was based on the stereotypical hiker girl, with a bit of a sportsy flair to her. (she also took a few influences from link) despite her more angrier look and lil’ fang, the current childa is much more wilder and violent than her. this gal was more of a “knowing” goof-ball who loves mountain ranges and tall things. it was only sometime in late 2013 - early 2014 where she got her baggy striped sweater.

I’m so sorry these have taken me so long! Majoring in any science really doesn’t give you a flexible schedule. But I’m still doing these for the whole month of October, so feel free to send them! 

From this, Nepenthe: a medicine for sorrow; a place, person or thing, which can aid in forgetting your pain and suffering

Icy gravel coated the barren, mechanical ravines. Boots on the ground, the rocks crunched beneath his soles as he bobbed and weaved the incoming fire, each step, a chance at death. He darted left and right, blasting bouncer rounds in every direction. The possibility of death, looming in the air like a shroud. He leapt to his side, just making it behind a pile of frozen metal and stone. A barrage slammed the wall to his left, and left a residual crimson glow in the air, the sparks dissipating into the harsh, frozen atmosphere. Hunter leapt out from cover, and with a quick blast from his jump jets, rocketed skyward. The automatons that crawled below him didn’t care who, or what he was, they simply weren’t capable of such complex thought. Hunter dove quick, and slammed the ground, sending a shockwave of dust and flame outward. The killings continued, not because he loathed these beings, not even for any reason personal to him, but because of what they carried: rads. Each one was irradiated to a point that upon death, the parts of them that soaked up the most of this energy were ripe for the picking and he intended to harvest. Another wave of machines approached, but to Hunter, this only meant more prey. He was the unkillable, mass death in the form of what was once a man.

This was his life, a constant battle between life and death. But by no means did he believe that this death would be his, he offered this challenge to all that approached, refusing to fail. The addiction had him, a glowing claw, wrapped always around his throat with only one way to loosen its grip. Hunter struck several more robots with his blaster, rendering them lifeless piles of scrap. He leapt toward the detritus and scooped away bits of irradiated parts.