#hedry

Oc art dump!!! Yay!!! (1/2)

Izzy's inner monologue is overly dramatic and self loathing. Constant grand statements, ramblings and trains of thought that get off the track immediately. A lot of overthinking. The word fuck is overused. Sentences sound like dialogue. The metaphors are simplistic.

"The shower is cold and sharp. I revel in its clarity, while watching the water turn red as it spirals towards the drain. While running my fingers through my hair I identifying every bruise, welt and wound. My hands travel down to my bruised neck, still sore from yesterday. My breath hitches and shallows until I'm barely breathing. Tears start running and I don't know why. I can't breathe. Fuck. Why. My mind keeps flashing back to yesterday. Why am I crying? I had been dreaming of it for weeks. Why? I can't hate what happened so why do I still hate so much? I can't stay here, crying in the shower, barely even standing. Why am I still here, I should just- the door opens... [-]"

Julia's inner monologue is characterised by constant thoughts directed at God. Completely black and white world view. Long, layered sentences, laced with poetic metaphors. Ramblings, but less so of the overthinking kind (think: Izzy) and moreso about the state of the world.

Heddy's inner monologue is pragmatic. It sounds as though she's always brain storming. She is afraid of her own thoughts, so she jumps around a lot. She stops thoughts when they get too real. She is afraid of who she is, but she hides that fear as well. She is tired with herself and everyone around her.

"I had missed my chance, I, the utter idiot, too occupied with not getting spotted. If he dies then it's... my fault. It would've been anyway, but here I have to witness it. Having thawed my feet out of frozen fear, but still mentally trying to distance myself from the thought of these idiots dying here because of me, I ran along the river until I saw the skinny idiot fighting tooth and nail to hold both of them up. Still alive."

Roz's inner monologue consists of short, straight to the point sentences. Almost like Hedry, constantly trying to make sense of her surroundings and trying to come to the most logical conclusions. Often leads to over thinking.

Cail's inner monologue is erratic. Random snippets of surrounding radio stations get interjected. There's a lot of extra information they're constantly taking in. Noticeably less visual descriptions of their surroundings. Inner monologue is heavily influenced by classical literature.

i wanna compare how my ocs' designs have progressed so i also made timelines :D

Despite the course my life a decade ago, despite lit halls of the Graysyore Institute of the Sciences, endless laboratories, ever lasting lectures and the general pish posh of the academic society, I find myself in the rubble of what used to be the Canine's. Before it was moved to the silent bloc, after it resided on Juniper Road. Somehow, these brick walls and nicotine yellow ceilings never let go of me.

I squat amidst the rubble and open the suitcase. The air is still and cold, despite the rays of sun leaking in to the dusty interior from the shattered windows. A quiet calm rests upon the canvas sofas and marble tiles. Both stained with laughter, violence and history. History- that's what it has become now. All of it, the card games and fights, schemes, plans and passion... no longer a part of my life now. Now I live in Eaststop and buy my food from mom and pop corner stores, with legitimate scholarship money. How that money got to the institute remains of no interest to me, all I care about is that the way it reached me is more than legit.

Still, this palace built on memories retains a part of it past as quiet, oh-how-familiar footsteps sound softly on the dusty floor. Military boots, size 38, stocky build, fighter's stature. The body of someone who persists.

I hear her inspect me wordlessly. She never said anything she didn't need to. Yet I felt everything behind her tongue. My heart drops to my stomach and I shudder, as if to relieve myself of those memories. All that lives is the present- the past died with yesterday's sunset.

I stand, my leather pants quietly creaking. I brace for what might come. A fist would not be out of character for her. Not after... all that. And then I think why I thought it to be a good idea to return. A perseverance of nostalgia, a longing for the warmth of what was, only to be met with the apathetic shell of those memories? Perhaps. Perhaps it's all that. Or perhaps this continued to be the best place for samples. Perhaps I followed my instructor's recommendations. Perhaps I am not who I was.

Encouraged by the doctrine I had crafted over the years, I turn around to face her, because despite wanting to forget, I still know that she will observe me work if I don't make to notice her. She will not verbally acknowledge me lest I do so.

Many more scars mark her resolute body than nearly a decade ago now. A shaved head and a neck tattoo, yet she is still so recognisable. The crooked lip, furrowed brows and thumbs strung through belt loops. Surprisingly a distinct lack of her barbed wire bat can be noticed. Her posture carries so much weariness though, because while I was off playing with cosmically microscopic organisms, she was out here living life. I don't pity her. If anything she pities me and she'd be right to do so.

I look scared, probably. Oh my god I looks so unnerved right now. I admit to myself. As a juxtaposition to my slightly raised eye brows I slip into a comfortable smile and rest my body weight on my hip to invite a relaxed atmosphere. Even though she is not my course mate through whom I am trying to get in touch with a lab technician, she is an ex-comrade and someone I used to share the bed with, as much as I refuse to admit it. The worst thing about being ex-comrades is the ex-part. That prefix stings of betrayal.

"Roz, fancy seeing you here!"

"Cut the shit, Hed, why are you here?"

I would've swooned if I wasn't so terribly mortified. My past was supposed to stay there yet why is it standing right in front of me?

"Oh I guess this place is inescapable. Even molecular biology will lead back here, whod've thought?" She scoffs at that, she scoffs at everything I've made my life into.

"It's not that big of a leap in logic when the menties send you here."

"Oh because all that exists is you vs them, right? You're either good or evil, that's how it works! Gosh, how silly of me to forget!"

She looks away in response to that.

"Look, all of us are doing what we are to survive, right? I dared hope that not refusing opportunities that let me live slightly better than abject poverty would not be a crime, but fuck me if I'm wrong, guess I'll undo my entire career!" The snark is instinctual, immediate like a trauma-response. A bit too comfortable for my liking.

"It might be, when your comfort comes at the expense of us, but I guess I should've never expected a constitution from you."

"I am alive right now, am I not?"

Her stare that rests upon me is incredulous.

"Would I be, had I fought any less? So far no one has disproven my hypothesis that I am no one's to save but mine."

"Moreover, let us not forget the corpses that lay behind you." I finish with a shaky breath.