Atherton

Slightly crazed brewing addict. Loves to flirt with danger and try to create toxic concoctions. The safeness of his bows and familiar are questionable, as with anything he touches. Actually really nice, but goes about it the wrong way. Tends to try and eat whatever he sees, even if it's inedible. Especially if it's inedible. He's like a maniac child.

Atherton had a tick. Not like a big one, just a little one, one that got under his skin, just a little itch. An itch that he needed to scratch. Nothing big at all.

All he wanted to do was create things. Create concoctions of all sorts, no matter what the cost of that brew was. No one understood. He wasn't really hurting anyone, was he? Sure, he had to sneak to use Baldwin's cauldron or the labs of the alchemists in the Guild, but that was no big deal. They were all friends here. Okay, yes, sometimes he ate something that maybe upset his stomach or burned his throat or left a bad taste in his mouth for a while, but everyone does that. Young hatchlings do it all the time. No problem, it's like eating a yucky vegetable.

It was just a small itch. his claws raked at his iridescent scales as he happened to splash some liquid out of his brew. It stung slightly and steamed, but he was fine. The patch of scales felt like it was searing, heat radiating off the spot but he slid his bow over it and ignored it. His tail twitched, his wings shivering as his wild eyes darted around the table of items and liquids. His coralclimber danced around his feet quietly, careful to steer clear of his claws.

A tiny itch, that's all it was. Atherton mumbled rapidly to himself in the dark, staring at the swirling, slightly glowing concoction. This one wasn't right. He wasn't sure what it was supposed to be, but he knew it wasn't this. His claws shook as he pushed aside trinkets and materials, leaning his face close to the potion. The rancid smell slid through his nostrils but he didn't flinch, his muscles twitching once or twice. There was a small heat at the back of his throat but he licked his jaws to get rid of it. It wasn't a problem. He was fine.

He ignored the worried comments of those in the Guild. Of course they were all friends, friends worried about friends, that was fine. He was fine. He was absolutely fine. The bows covered whatever he didn't want them to see, so it was fine. He even brewed those himself. So what if they were still dripping bright fluid when he pulled them from the cauldron? They were pretty. He was pretty. That's why he put the masque over his face. To be pretty. Even as he felt his eyes twitching sometimes, but everyone's eyes did that. He was fine.

He just needed to create, that's all. That's all he wanted to do, why couldn't he just do that? Why did they always have to meddle? Well, they're friends of course. That's alright, they're just friends, no need to get so upset. Atherton bit the inside of his cheek to keep it from twitching. So what if he tasted a bit of tangy copper? His hands shook, his legs felt unsteady. He pushed his tail against the ground and tensed it up to keep himself upright. He had to keep working.

All he wanted to do was create things. Atherton the Concoction Creator. Someday they'd all appreciate what he's doing for them. Someday, they'd see, and they'd understand him finally.

He just had a little tick, that's all.