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Description
“Atticus for a boy”, she’d said on departure, and a boy it had been.

Atticus was a wonderful, healthy (though he’d seemed to have inherited his father’s larger stature), boy; Seymour’s pride and joy. The father thought his son all the more special after the struggle and the wait he’d experienced before Atticus had hatched. Seymour remembered how he’d waited through the long winter, with his son a mere egg snuggled underneath his brood pouch. He’d taken his turn on the outside of the huddle, against the howling winds and the falling snow, and he’d rotated his way inwards, through the crushing press of feathery bodies, taking his turn on the inside of the huddle where it was warm and safe. Through the winter he’d felt his heart filled with a joyous vigour, which he expressed through joining in the chanting with the other males. Together they’d sung a wish for the winter to be over, for the sunlight to grace their presence once more, and for their loved ones, their soul mates, to return safely.

As the weeks of cold and dark pressed on, Seymour found he could keep himself positive through thoughts of his egg and of his mate. He’d missed the last breeding season and was happy at last to have found his place, to have found his someone. Back then he’d been a mere hormonal teen, he understood now. A young penguin who’d built his every thought on Gloria, and who hadn’t? It had been every male’s dream to win her heart, but it was Seymour who’d pushed hardest in his attempts to woo her. That had been his goal and his daily struggle, and he’d tried so, so hard to gain her attention that he’d failed to notice how her heart beat for someone else. That someone would never be him. The one who really set her soul singing, and who answered the call of her heartsong was the misfit Mumble. He was a penguin that Seymour had known throughout his life, and sure, had been friendly with, but it had hurt him when Gloria had returned to the colony after being rejected by this fluffy fellow. Seymour had made his way to her, to ask if she would sing once more, and she’d asked him an odd question. “Do you have a problem with my singing?” No, no, he’d assured her, shocked at this strange thought of hers. Who could have a problem with her singing? The diva’s voice was pitch perfect, utterly irresistible. She knew that better than any of them. Soon the other young males returned to her side, starting up their crooning once more, but she had brushed them aside, claiming she “didn’t feel up to it”. In fact, after the utter fever of Mumble’s dancing and Gloria’s singing, and the condemning of it by Noah, no one else seemed truly up to it anymore. Some penguins had already found their soul mates, and others continued a search half-heartedly, returning to simply singing their souls with limited movement. So that season produced a lesser number of chicks than usual.

The next season all the love and energy of the Emperor lands had returned along with their toe-tapping saviour. Everyone’s hearts had been freed from the worries of limited fish supplies, and freed from the chains around their feet that had halted their embracing of the dance Mumble had shown them. No, dancing was now encouraged. It was not Seymour’s thing, though. He loved to join in with the others, but found the lightness of foot of his fluffy friend was something he lacked, so the large penguin made his contribution to the scene with his smooth voice. At last he had been able to see the true love Gloria had for Mumble, and though it took some time, eventually he was able to wean his thoughts off trying to become her husband, and accepted that she and her partner made great friends for him. This shift in his attitude had been helped greatly that season by the soulful singing of a certain twinkle-eyed Charlotte. Yes, she’d certainly been able to refocus his mind. Singing to her brought out something more in him, something he’d never been able to reach when he’d sung his heartsong before, and hearing that something in her voice too, well that was amazing. By the time the sky was beginning to darken she’d produced an egg, snowy white and mottled grey. Their egg. It was a large egg, too, something that amused Charlotte to no end. “Seymour, just look at that, I warned you that you needed to diet!”
“Hey baby, it’s just padding. It’ll help the little one out during the winter”
She’d laughed then, such a beautiful sound. After discussing names for the potential gender of the unborn infant, she’d left. Seymour felt the song inside his body and hummed his way over to join the males who were beginning to move together after giving farewells to their wives.

At last the sun began to show itself once more, and its rays lit the ice, bright, white and dazzling. What a world for a chick to emerge in. When the days were as long as the nights, the chicks began to hatch, and Seymour eagerly awaited the arrival of his own bundle of joy. In between talking to his adult friends, and congratulating them on their offspring, the heavyweight father whispered encouragement to his own egg. Eventually his gentle words had an effect on the egg, and it began to respond to him, muffled sounds becoming louder as a sunny-yellow tipped beak tapped against the eggshell, and broke its way through. The beak was followed by a tiny head, which blinked in astonishment at the bright new world it was entering. Seymour watched with fascination, stabbing his flipper excitedly towards the sky with cries of “come on, my boy!” The head was eventually followed by a wet little body, and ended with a wagging tail. The chick pushed its eggshell off its dad’s feet and shook itself dry, yawned, and then looked up at his father with awestruck brown eyes. “Hey there, Atticus,” beamed his dad, “How’s it hanging down there?”
The chick replied, mimicking the accent of his parent, “Hey daddy! It’s pretty cold out here!”
From that moment forward the father and son were an inseparable duo. Seymour was not hesitant to let his boy befriend the other chicks nearby, and he noticed even, that his son was becoming firm friends with his teacher’s daughter. As far as Atticus roamed though, he would always return to his dad, and the two would often spend half a day inventing rhymes and rhythms, and laughing as they did so. Whenever his son had a moment of doubt, Seymour would soothe him and encourage him, and his father’s belief in him worked to make Atticus one of the most confident penguin chicks around.

Their days of joy as a duo seemed to be coming to a close, with the word on the horizon that the females would soon return. Earlier and earlier returns after winter were becoming the norm, as after the return of the fish, there was little need for the females to stay longer than was required to regain their strength and to build up a store of food to take back to their offspring.
Indeed it was only a few days after Atticus had hatched, that a scout on a pillar of ice called out the familiar cry of “Wives ho!” With that, all the males gathered their chicks and began to surge forwards towards the approaching penguins, eager to greet their mate and show off their baby.
Seymour was only too keen to be a part of this. He warned Atticus to stay close by him as they moved into the crowd and began scanning the sea of faces for the one he recognised and loved. Atticus was taking it in his stride, helping his dad by offering his opinion.
“What about her over there? Is that her? She’s got dark eyes, like you said.”
“Nah, that’s not your mumma.”
“Oh, ok, uhh… how about her?”
“No.”
And so on it continued, the chubby chick pointing his flipper towards countless females, and his hefty father shaking his head. At this stage Seymour didn’t seem too worried, for he was a laid back penguin, and it would be a while before the worst entered his thoughts. They continued walking, and walking, amidst the crowd, the cries of joy from endless feminine voices and the happy squeaks of the chicks, the deeper voices of the males joining in the cacophony. After this had continued for what felt like forever, the pair made their way through the crowd and found themselves standing and gazing at a blank, white horizon. They hadn’t seen her, and Seymour was sure they hadn’t missed her. His heart sunk. There would be no mother for Atticus. Below him, the chick picked up on the sudden drop in spirits and looked up at his dad questioningly.

Seymour looked down at his son, and turned his head away to glance behind him. All he could see was row after row of trio of mother, father, and child. Happy families. He caught the eye of a female he recognised, a friend of his Charlotte’s. Immediately this penguin’s expression changed from the joy of meeting her daughter, to a look of genuine sorrow. I’m sorry, she mouthed, and Seymour nodded, turning his attention back to his son.
There would be no cover story, no happy white lie for Atticus. The two had made it clear that there were no secrets or boundaries between them. Atticus would hide nothing from his dad, and Seymour would hide nothing from his son. So why was it so hard to break the news to the inquisitive gaze below?
“Uh… Atticus… I don’t think your mumma’s comin’ home,” he admitted eventually.
The chick’s expression cleared, and the little penguin looked down at his feet, “Oh.”
Seymour did not know what his son was thinking. Would he mind? He’d never met his mother, and now, he never would, so what difference would it really make to him? Just another name he’d hear, but a face he’d never see, a song he’d never hear, an embrace he’d never feel. Would he truly lack this second parent’s care, or would he grow up just fine without her?
And how would Seymour himself cope? After the years of wanting to settle, to have what the others had, he’d found her, and now she was just a memory lost to the winter’s grasp.

“Hey, daddy?” Cautioned Atticus, raising his flipper to touch his dad’s side.
“Yeah?” sighed Seymour in reply.
Atticus smiled, “You’re my main man. I’ll take care of you.”
Seymour couldn’t help but chuckle at that, though it was bittersweet. He bent forward and touched his own flipper to his son’s, holding it tightly, a symbolic promise between the two of them. They’d both take care of each other, through thick and thin.
“Yeah Atticus, you’re my main ‘guin too.”

________
OK SO. My thoughts.
I LOVED Happy Feet 2, it was much better than I had anticipated, but it left a lot of questions unanswered. I attempted to answer one of them here (Atticus’s mother is absent in the movie). I LOVED Seymour in this movie wow! He was so adorably focussed on his son, I think they have a really strong bond there, so I tried to show this in my drawing and story. I think that Atticus’s mother died while it was winter (idk how, predator, most likely: Antarctica isn’t exactly the easiest place to survive), and so Seymour feels that he really has to watch out for his son. I didn’t like Seymour in the first movie, how he was just “Mumble’s rival” for Gloria, so I was super happy to see some character development of him.
I ALSO think that Atticus had some bullying issues- due to the rap at the start of the movie. “Be strong boy, know who you are!” “You’re a star!” “Papa said knock them out”. Yes I KNOW they are lyrics from an existing song, but in the context of the movie, it sounds like Seymour encouraging Atticus to be proud of himself and not to worry about what others think. Something like that. I suppose he could be teased due to his weight/size?
Anyway that’s random babbling, as I didn’t incorporate that into this piece. It’s something I might do in the future though, as I really loved writing and drawing this. I also really hope I got their personalities right… I know they aren’t spot on xD I… haven’t written about existing characters for something like 5 years so yesh, won’t be perfect.

OH also, Charlotte is made up (random name my friend helped me pick) and yes.

UM also
Happy Feet, Atticus & Seymour © Warner Bros
Artwork & story © me

Description
“Atticus for a boy”, she’d said on departure, and a boy it had been.

Atticus was a wonderful, healthy (though he’d seemed to have inherited his father’s larger stature), boy; Seymour’s pride and joy. The father thought his son all the more special after the struggle and the wait he’d experienced before Atticus had hatched. Seymour remembered how he’d waited through the long winter, with his son a mere egg snuggled underneath his brood pouch. He’d taken his turn on the outside of the huddle, against the howling winds and the falling snow, and he’d rotated his way inwards, through the crushing press of feathery bodies, taking his turn on the inside of the huddle where it was warm and safe. Through the winter he’d felt his heart filled with a joyous vigour, which he expressed through joining in the chanting with the other males. Together they’d sung a wish for the winter to be over, for the sunlight to grace their presence once more, and for their loved ones, their soul mates, to return safely.

As the weeks of cold and dark pressed on, Seymour found he could keep himself positive through thoughts of his egg and of his mate. He’d missed the last breeding season and was happy at last to have found his place, to have found his someone. Back then he’d been a mere hormonal teen, he understood now. A young penguin who’d built his every thought on Gloria, and who hadn’t? It had been every male’s dream to win her heart, but it was Seymour who’d pushed hardest in his attempts to woo her. That had been his goal and his daily struggle, and he’d tried so, so hard to gain her attention that he’d failed to notice how her heart beat for someone else. That someone would never be him. The one who really set her soul singing, and who answered the call of her heartsong was the misfit Mumble. He was a penguin that Seymour had known throughout his life, and sure, had been friendly with, but it had hurt him when Gloria had returned to the colony after being rejected by this fluffy fellow. Seymour had made his way to her, to ask if she would sing once more, and she’d asked him an odd question. “Do you have a problem with my singing?” No, no, he’d assured her, shocked at this strange thought of hers. Who could have a problem with her singing? The diva’s voice was pitch perfect, utterly irresistible. She knew that better than any of them. Soon the other young males returned to her side, starting up their crooning once more, but she had brushed them aside, claiming she “didn’t feel up to it”. In fact, after the utter fever of Mumble’s dancing and Gloria’s singing, and the condemning of it by Noah, no one else seemed truly up to it anymore. Some penguins had already found their soul mates, and others continued a search half-heartedly, returning to simply singing their souls with limited movement. So that season produced a lesser number of chicks than usual.

The next season all the love and energy of the Emperor lands had returned along with their toe-tapping saviour. Everyone’s hearts had been freed from the worries of limited fish supplies, and freed from the chains around their feet that had halted their embracing of the dance Mumble had shown them. No, dancing was now encouraged. It was not Seymour’s thing, though. He loved to join in with the others, but found the lightness of foot of his fluffy friend was something he lacked, so the large penguin made his contribution to the scene with his smooth voice. At last he had been able to see the true love Gloria had for Mumble, and though it took some time, eventually he was able to wean his thoughts off trying to become her husband, and accepted that she and her partner made great friends for him. This shift in his attitude had been helped greatly that season by the soulful singing of a certain twinkle-eyed Charlotte. Yes, she’d certainly been able to refocus his mind. Singing to her brought out something more in him, something he’d never been able to reach when he’d sung his heartsong before, and hearing that something in her voice too, well that was amazing. By the time the sky was beginning to darken she’d produced an egg, snowy white and mottled grey. Their egg. It was a large egg, too, something that amused Charlotte to no end. “Seymour, just look at that, I warned you that you needed to diet!”
“Hey baby, it’s just padding. It’ll help the little one out during the winter”
She’d laughed then, such a beautiful sound. After discussing names for the potential gender of the unborn infant, she’d left. Seymour felt the song inside his body and hummed his way over to join the males who were beginning to move together after giving farewells to their wives.

At last the sun began to show itself once more, and its rays lit the ice, bright, white and dazzling. What a world for a chick to emerge in. When the days were as long as the nights, the chicks began to hatch, and Seymour eagerly awaited the arrival of his own bundle of joy. In between talking to his adult friends, and congratulating them on their offspring, the heavyweight father whispered encouragement to his own egg. Eventually his gentle words had an effect on the egg, and it began to respond to him, muffled sounds becoming louder as a sunny-yellow tipped beak tapped against the eggshell, and broke its way through. The beak was followed by a tiny head, which blinked in astonishment at the bright new world it was entering. Seymour watched with fascination, stabbing his flipper excitedly towards the sky with cries of “come on, my boy!” The head was eventually followed by a wet little body, and ended with a wagging tail. The chick pushed its eggshell off its dad’s feet and shook itself dry, yawned, and then looked up at his father with awestruck brown eyes. “Hey there, Atticus,” beamed his dad, “How’s it hanging down there?”
The chick replied, mimicking the accent of his parent, “Hey daddy! It’s pretty cold out here!”
From that moment forward the father and son were an inseparable duo. Seymour was not hesitant to let his boy befriend the other chicks nearby, and he noticed even, that his son was becoming firm friends with his teacher’s daughter. As far as Atticus roamed though, he would always return to his dad, and the two would often spend half a day inventing rhymes and rhythms, and laughing as they did so. Whenever his son had a moment of doubt, Seymour would soothe him and encourage him, and his father’s belief in him worked to make Atticus one of the most confident penguin chicks around.

Their days of joy as a duo seemed to be coming to a close, with the word on the horizon that the females would soon return. Earlier and earlier returns after winter were becoming the norm, as after the return of the fish, there was little need for the females to stay longer than was required to regain their strength and to build up a store of food to take back to their offspring.
Indeed it was only a few days after Atticus had hatched, that a scout on a pillar of ice called out the familiar cry of “Wives ho!” With that, all the males gathered their chicks and began to surge forwards towards the approaching penguins, eager to greet their mate and show off their baby.
Seymour was only too keen to be a part of this. He warned Atticus to stay close by him as they moved into the crowd and began scanning the sea of faces for the one he recognised and loved. Atticus was taking it in his stride, helping his dad by offering his opinion.
“What about her over there? Is that her? She’s got dark eyes, like you said.”
“Nah, that’s not your mumma.”
“Oh, ok, uhh… how about her?”
“No.”
And so on it continued, the chubby chick pointing his flipper towards countless females, and his hefty father shaking his head. At this stage Seymour didn’t seem too worried, for he was a laid back penguin, and it would be a while before the worst entered his thoughts. They continued walking, and walking, amidst the crowd, the cries of joy from endless feminine voices and the happy squeaks of the chicks, the deeper voices of the males joining in the cacophony. After this had continued for what felt like forever, the pair made their way through the crowd and found themselves standing and gazing at a blank, white horizon. They hadn’t seen her, and Seymour was sure they hadn’t missed her. His heart sunk. There would be no mother for Atticus. Below him, the chick picked up on the sudden drop in spirits and looked up at his dad questioningly.

Seymour looked down at his son, and turned his head away to glance behind him. All he could see was row after row of trio of mother, father, and child. Happy families. He caught the eye of a female he recognised, a friend of his Charlotte’s. Immediately this penguin’s expression changed from the joy of meeting her daughter, to a look of genuine sorrow. I’m sorry, she mouthed, and Seymour nodded, turning his attention back to his son.
There would be no cover story, no happy white lie for Atticus. The two had made it clear that there were no secrets or boundaries between them. Atticus would hide nothing from his dad, and Seymour would hide nothing from his son. So why was it so hard to break the news to the inquisitive gaze below?
“Uh… Atticus… I don’t think your mumma’s comin’ home,” he admitted eventually.
The chick’s expression cleared, and the little penguin looked down at his feet, “Oh.”
Seymour did not know what his son was thinking. Would he mind? He’d never met his mother, and now, he never would, so what difference would it really make to him? Just another name he’d hear, but a face he’d never see, a song he’d never hear, an embrace he’d never feel. Would he truly lack this second parent’s care, or would he grow up just fine without her?
And how would Seymour himself cope? After the years of wanting to settle, to have what the others had, he’d found her, and now she was just a memory lost to the winter’s grasp.

“Hey, daddy?” Cautioned Atticus, raising his flipper to touch his dad’s side.
“Yeah?” sighed Seymour in reply.
Atticus smiled, “You’re my main man. I’ll take care of you.”
Seymour couldn’t help but chuckle at that, though it was bittersweet. He bent forward and touched his own flipper to his son’s, holding it tightly, a symbolic promise between the two of them. They’d both take care of each other, through thick and thin.
“Yeah Atticus, you’re my main ‘guin too.”

________
OK SO. My thoughts.
I LOVED Happy Feet 2, it was much better than I had anticipated, but it left a lot of questions unanswered. I attempted to answer one of them here (Atticus’s mother is absent in the movie). I LOVED Seymour in this movie wow! He was so adorably focussed on his son, I think they have a really strong bond there, so I tried to show this in my drawing and story. I think that Atticus’s mother died while it was winter (idk how, predator, most likely: Antarctica isn’t exactly the easiest place to survive), and so Seymour feels that he really has to watch out for his son. I didn’t like Seymour in the first movie, how he was just “Mumble’s rival” for Gloria, so I was super happy to see some character development of him.
I ALSO think that Atticus had some bullying issues- due to the rap at the start of the movie. “Be strong boy, know who you are!” “You’re a star!” “Papa said knock them out”. Yes I KNOW they are lyrics from an existing song, but in the context of the movie, it sounds like Seymour encouraging Atticus to be proud of himself and not to worry about what others think. Something like that. I suppose he could be teased due to his weight/size?
Anyway that’s random babbling, as I didn’t incorporate that into this piece. It’s something I might do in the future though, as I really loved writing and drawing this. I also really hope I got their personalities right… I know they aren’t spot on xD I… haven’t written about existing characters for something like 5 years so yesh, won’t be perfect.

OH also, Charlotte is made up (random name my friend helped me pick) and yes.

UM also
Happy Feet, Atticus & Seymour © Warner Bros
Artwork & story © me