Mellea-art-home - Arts

‘Im safe now :) She took me from the bad people’

Bit Busy this week, no art, only lore

So I am going to be quite full this week with the real world, so I will give you all a little more Mellea Lore, as she is my personal favorite character I have made. So random facts about her, 1 she can purr, as a genetic hybrid she has enough feline genetics to be able to purr, she only finds this out after having landed on Earth and some exploring with people where she ends up with a caring and comforting friend named Peral, a snow fox. It is both of them laying together on Peral’s couch, helping untangle Mellea’s long thick fur, and during a break from untangling Mellea’s head fur, Peral just starts rubbing Melleas head, (petting her basically) where to the surprise of both, she starts purring. Questions as to why she only figures this out once she’s an adult (18) and living elsewhere, well she never got close enough to anyone else for them to be able to make her feel comfortable for a long period of time to spark that nice feeling to make her purr. So hope you enjoy the Mellea lore dump for her history of being able to purr, the least interesting thing possible.  

Mellea Lore rough outline of early life

Mellea- given title: subject 231

was created in Aether lab under the main building of the central hub for inter planetary trade on the world of Veda 5

she was created as a last ditch effort from Aether to populate other worlds beyond their solar system as their star was dying

this lead to the company expanding into theoretical technologies most prominent being MEDC, and gene modding

MEDC a (mass & energy dimensional conduit)

mellea was created as part of the Eden project, the culmination of research and efforts to send populations out to habitable worlds and create colonies safe from the death of their solar system, she was one of 100 eventual subjects that were sent in groups of 4 to various planets

each subject was created differently, leading to them being classed 1-5 on risk of genetic deformities or abnormal developmental cycles that could be a determine to the subject

Mellea was one classed as a catagory 5, likely not expected to survive beyond a few years or if she did that she would have severe issues in function/ deformities occur halting her usefulness as a candidate

she was stored with other subjects that were of class 4-5, many of whom were not fit to take part in the mission or were transferred out because they had fatal mutations that the doctors were trying to keep from disturbing Mellea

One such event that the researchers failed to react to was with Subject 15

subject 15 developed severe muscle weakening causing their lungs to make it much harder to breathe, risking lung collapse, mellea (age 7) trying to help went to get doctors or anyone she could find, this was met with a number of researchers coming into her room and checking Subject 15, then escorting them out to the examination wing, not allowing Mellea to follow along

this prompted her to crawl through the ducts and vents to overhear the conversation of the researchers and the condition of her friend, finding out that the genetic augmentations they went through had caused muscle atrophy and weakening of the lung muscles, and survival was unlikely at best

they sent for Mellea to be fetched so they could reasure her that subject 15 would be fine, so she quickly crawled back through the vents and into her room before a scientist, the lead scientist and her daughter a few years older than Mellea (10) knocked on the door and entered, explaining that everything will be fine, and subject 15 will be transfered to a safer place to get medical attention, in the meantime the daughter will be staying with Mellea, childs name is Alexandra Labrynn, her mother being Reya Labrynn

Pt. 1

This I write as the last words to be heard by my hand, and to attest to the atrocities of which I have bore witness to. I must be clear, no answers will come to you, or comfort learning what I have seen and know now. I was damned long before taking that job researching things that man had best left alone. But to get to explaining what happened we must understand who I am, god I must be honest, I am but a shell of a man, let alone far and away from the same person I was where this story starts us.

I had grown up in a small everybody knows everybody town in New England, quaint idyllic life for most people nowadays. I had been raised in a relatively religious household, little more than Easter church, and prayer before meals as a young lad. I had a fascination with religions, and mythologies, going through from Greek, to Norse, and even some Eastern mythologies where I could find content in my small town library.

This led me to being enamored in learning about the bizarre and occult secrets like Paganism in my mid-teens, familiarizing myself with all the little details, I guess this is also how my desire for being a historian started. I worked hard through my teens, always the odd one, somewhere between the school nerd, and goth, both envied and hated, and now only one of those may be true for those who know me, knew feels more apt after that last job.

The ostracizing never really was a concern for me, as much as it was my parents, but given my performance in school being near top of the school by graduation, they never seemed to approach me about their concerns directly, but I could hear them talking through the walls at night. They did congratulate me soon after graduation when I had managed to get a scholarship into a quite prestigious college for a major in history.

And this is where my life started proper, I had to move a number of hours away, and lived in a dorm with three other students. We managed to get along quite well given all of us seemed to be out of state, and in different courses, one was in music, one business, and another in forensics. We managed to become drinking buddies at the frat parties that were hosted around, even getting into young trouble by dipping into the local bars, and on more than one occasion banned for upwards of a month.

All this to say get to where things properly start, with the professor for history, a man at the time was quite young compared to the other professors in the school, it felt like night and day between him and the teacher next door, one side with a late thirties man, well kept dark hair and quite the surprising energy about him, and the other side a man who seemed to have more hair on his thin arms than his head. The history teacher was Dr. Myard Hammond, he was an expert in the esoteric, and less savory details of history, human, and as I came to find out, inhuman knowledge. 

Given my passion and striking fondness for the subject I spent many off periods throughout the first two years discussing the very macabre and obscure histories of the world, including religions on their societies. 

It wasn’t until my second year, December had fallen and we were just about a week out from Christmas break, the students were either taking Midterms or burning out from them, so the bars were quite alive that night, I was out with my roommates and as the lot of them talk about heading back for the night. They all had their various reasons between their own tests coming up, or lack of sleep biting at them for proper repose they left.

I stayed seated at the booth, finishing my drink, figuring that if nothing else I should also get some repose, burning myself to finish a few classes worth of studying for a number of overlapping test days ahead. I had just about finished when looking up I saw Dr. Hammond enter, the only tell the door was opened was a quick biting wind from the frosty air outside, the place was too lively and loud to hear the small bell above the door ring.

I motioned him over as he looked around, and I noticed that even under his large coat, he was a disheveled man, I could see the bags under his eyes, unkempt hair, wrinkled dress shirt poking out the bottom untucked. He seemed skittish, surprised someone would recognise him almost, and I soon came to find out why once he tentatively sat down, confirming nobody else was coming back to sit there. He ended up getting some strong liquor and kept looking into his glass most of the while.

I by this point was at least mostly intoxicated, with some wits still about me, asked jovially of his day, unaware of his tense nature.

He mumbled to himself some, then looked up at me, and even through the alcohol I saw the eyes of a desperate man, he was half the man I saw just a day before, and when he spoke all the energy that had been so pervasive through all his classes was now gone, he made no sense at the time, talking of some place he called the ‘sunken city’. I pressed if he was talking of Atlantis, and what that has to do with anything.

He had slapped his hand on the table, just barely shaking the drinks and said, ‘God damn, I know Atlantis, but where, by the Dead Gods Where! They have been found from the deep Amazon, to the deep Sahara, where did you slimy Bastards hide the last key.’ his voice was unusually sharp, and edged, and seemed to be talking to himself more than me.

The East Road

I will warn you traveler, don’t walk the road east of the city at sunset towards the forest. You may laugh and doubt, but that way lies a reality I cannot fathom, I do not know why, or how it exists. By all laws of sanity and what is known it shouldn’t be there, but yet, if you dare walk that path the road will stretch, the lamps will stretch over the road like choking fingers and the houses will wane, the sky now dark and the moon a faint red will be all you see. The forest will never come, the end of that street will not come, but you will hear a call, an alert to get inside. Listen close traveler, do not enter any house, do not look behind you, do not run, walk forward, do not stop. I pray dear traveler that you are not cursed to see that which I have, keep walking and once you reach the bridge, Close Your Eyes. Do not open them, you will feel something behind you, never turn back. You will hear the alarm blare in your ears, do not turn. You must never trip, you must never turn back, you must never open your eyes. If you make it this far, you must hold your breath, and pray. Never open your eyes.

My OC, her name is Mellea, and is an original species.