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BORDERLANDS — an introspective, science-fiction work in progress that follows connie and her peers (a group of government children) far into the future who are tasked with exploring interdimesional spaces that eerily mirror their inner workings.

— CHARACTER SPOTLIGHTS: connie | manny | nefera | rosalie | liam | carson | lapis | jack | wren | freya | hera | jane | auggie

EXCERPTS — sections from a multitude of works in progress and unfinished narratives; don't expect much out of anything that lies in here other than from the excerpts pertaining to BORDERLANDS, the rest are nothing but scraps.

…An imbecile Manny was, really: a well known fact across their facility and among his peers, Connie's other instructors. His smile is teasing, almost condescending Connie notes as he ignores the venom off her tongue. Manny opens his mouth as if to reassure her, but the devil is quicker.

"Sure you will," Rosalie starts, her voice cutting through the air between the three of them as she steps out of the shadows and into clear view, her canines practically dripping feigned benevolence and camaraderie like blood straight off the jugular, "we wouldn't want your talents to go to waste now would we?"

Connie feels her lip curl in annoyance, eyelids twitching as she tries to keep her vision from rolling to the back of her skull, "I don't understand."

She really didn't. Apart from Rosalie being a demon in disguise and harder to cooperate with than most, Manny—while idiotic—has never left Connie's side, not once, not since she was 7, not even to allow her a moment of much needed solitude. He isn't as clever as he thinks he is, that's for sure, his brain (while a sponge) can only hold useful information. Nothing about Rosalie is even remotely useful, not even in the slightest.

"Of course you don't," Rosalie sighs, with the audacity to sound even the faintest bit exasperated, her school heels clicking against the tile as she kicks her foot out from underneath her stance (the ridiculously prissy one that makes her look like she is on the prowl) and steps toward Manny, "your lack of human interaction now of days must've left you retar —"

"Okay! Let's not start this again," Manny cheers…

—BORDERLANDS excerpt #5

BORDERLANDS: manny | 28 | instructor/ mentor | subject A1 | abnormality: enhanced learning

early manny i drew monday. i want to say that this is his final design, but i can't promise much lol.

And though she would never admit it—because she would rather die—Manny was right: there really was nowhere to go, not anymore. They had made sure of that. She was stuck here and home was now nothing more than a forgotten dream. He was right when he appeared at their home that day, he was right when he held her hand on the way out the door, and he was right when Connie's mother didn't look back at her. Not even once. Not even to wave goodbye as she sent her one and only daughter straight to the noose. She still remembers that smile, the smile Manny threw at her as he trode out the door, his stride so wide it had Connie almost tripping over her own two feet. The grin that made it seem as if she was worth something—anything after that, after what had just happened to her. "How pathetic," She recalls, a droplet of what she believes to be rain falling onto and running down the apples of her cheeks. How pathetic, she thinks to herself as she desperately starts swiping at her under-eyes, the sleeves of her uniform consequently soaked. Really, how pathetic, she concluded as she looked up at the sky; not a cloud in sight.

It's fairly easy to tell when they've entered/ transitioned into Connie's soul; it's ice cold. Her frigidness makes it hard for anything to grow there. A graveyard of hopes and ambitions.

BORDERLANDS: chapter one, concept art

rosalie (left) and connie (right) faced with a problem.

BORDERLANDS: nefera | 27 | instructor/ mentor | subject A3 | abnormality: mimicry

very early nefera. drew her a couple of months ago before i got busy with finals :(

"How naive of me to think you loved me way back then," she starts, the wind lifting up off of the sea, sprinkling salt into her hair as it pushes it out of her face, "no one knows a thing about love when they're 12."

The sea roars once more, Micah feels it in his bones this time as he tries to stop the trembling, the insecurity in his knees. The waves provoked by the incoming storm finally meet his stance high up on the rocks, "Oh, yeah?" It's distant, soft, and confused all at once as if he'd simply risen from sleep, and the memory of them were nothing more than a forgotten dream, "So then what were we?"

Seraphine still hasn't turned toward him, Micah decides he's okay with knowing she never will, but the blanket she cradles herself with still won't shield her from his gaze (not like she hopes it will at least).

Then, so cold it rivals the north wind, she almost spits, "Children."

Sometimes, in her laugh, he'd catch glimpses of who she could've been. Who she would've been if the weight of everyone else hadn't held her down.

Sunshine. That's all it was for miles. Suddenly, it were clear as to why she was so content all the time: there was nothing of worth in that shell she calls a brain.

I step off the pavilion, calling out to her behind me, "Let's get this over with-" I'm cut off by a shrill screech—from my own mouth, embarrassingly enough—aimed at the hiss of a what I recognize to be a serpent, camouflaged, defensive of its territory; my memory reminds me it's called a snake. "Careful," Rosalie calls, but there is nothing benevolent in her tone, instead, a sinister resolution, "you never know what could be waiting for you in places you don't belong."

She strides past me, effortlessly avoiding the vicious vipers in her path, it's hard not to notice how they shrivel at the simple sight of her.

A snake in the grass. That's what she is, I decide; probably what she always has been: a product of her environment.