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Description
Edit: Refined it a bit.
A repaint I did on Insta stream. (:
Old Version
My oc Cyrus. He doesn’t often get his face ripped up, but when he does it’s all sads and stuff.
Original excerpt from his story:
The woman adjusted her sleeve, taking a keen interest in the partially man-made creature before her. His face was torn, and there were still faint traces of blood, but he stared at the ground with no indication that either factors mattered to him. She was peeved by his silence, and so took the initiative.
“Why do you seem so unwilling to fight? I imagined you’d be tearing your way out, knowing your history,” she scoffed.
“I have a purpose. I will remain for now.” Cyrus’s exposed eye crackled faintly. He did not look up. The woman furrowed her brow, but accepted the lackluster interview.
“What’s your purpose, then?” she wondered. He said nothing. There were no insults; no fighting, yelling, or cursing came from him. She knew he despised them and what they stood for deeply, and yet there was nothing.
“You—you’re broken, aren’t you?” she finally surmised with a scoff. “What on earth did those people do that made you this way? While I admit our approach was a bit off, the end result is vastly positive. You’re stronger, wiser, and you’ll outlive us all. You get to see an age we’ve only ever dreamed of—an age of peace, prosperity, and conquest across the galaxy! What is it about your condition that breaks you like this? Is it the perceived loss of humanity? The traumatic past?”
Cyrus did not respond yet again. The woman clenched her teeth at his taciturn nature; she was beginning to prefer the vulgar shouts of his crew to being ignored. She was about to get up and leave when Cyrus sighed.
“I remember everything they did to me,” he began. “I remember what they wore each day, the sounds of their voices, and even their smell. I remember vomiting when I woke up, and begging for death when I fell to sleep. There is much I remember; so real, and so disturbing that I’ve never told another soul. If I did, they’d suffer from sickening nightmares just like I do—and I don’t wish that even on my worst enemy. Yes, I remember what they did to me, the past and the torment. But that’s not what breaks me.” The woman leaned back instinctively when Cyrus lifted his head to meet her gaze. Even if she had lived ten lifetimes, she could never have reached the place his eyes took her to.
“What breaks me is that no one ever heard my screaming.”
A repaint I did on Insta stream. (:
Old Version
My oc Cyrus. He doesn’t often get his face ripped up, but when he does it’s all sads and stuff.
Original excerpt from his story:
The woman adjusted her sleeve, taking a keen interest in the partially man-made creature before her. His face was torn, and there were still faint traces of blood, but he stared at the ground with no indication that either factors mattered to him. She was peeved by his silence, and so took the initiative.
“Why do you seem so unwilling to fight? I imagined you’d be tearing your way out, knowing your history,” she scoffed.
“I have a purpose. I will remain for now.” Cyrus’s exposed eye crackled faintly. He did not look up. The woman furrowed her brow, but accepted the lackluster interview.
“What’s your purpose, then?” she wondered. He said nothing. There were no insults; no fighting, yelling, or cursing came from him. She knew he despised them and what they stood for deeply, and yet there was nothing.
“You—you’re broken, aren’t you?” she finally surmised with a scoff. “What on earth did those people do that made you this way? While I admit our approach was a bit off, the end result is vastly positive. You’re stronger, wiser, and you’ll outlive us all. You get to see an age we’ve only ever dreamed of—an age of peace, prosperity, and conquest across the galaxy! What is it about your condition that breaks you like this? Is it the perceived loss of humanity? The traumatic past?”
Cyrus did not respond yet again. The woman clenched her teeth at his taciturn nature; she was beginning to prefer the vulgar shouts of his crew to being ignored. She was about to get up and leave when Cyrus sighed.
“I remember everything they did to me,” he began. “I remember what they wore each day, the sounds of their voices, and even their smell. I remember vomiting when I woke up, and begging for death when I fell to sleep. There is much I remember; so real, and so disturbing that I’ve never told another soul. If I did, they’d suffer from sickening nightmares just like I do—and I don’t wish that even on my worst enemy. Yes, I remember what they did to me, the past and the torment. But that’s not what breaks me.” The woman leaned back instinctively when Cyrus lifted his head to meet her gaze. Even if she had lived ten lifetimes, she could never have reached the place his eyes took her to.
“What breaks me is that no one ever heard my screaming.”
Image size
1800x2200px 6.02 MB
© 2018 - 2024 Chica-Art
Comments13
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HIS HAIR LOOKS FABULOUS! Beautiful drawing, those textures and those colors... wow!
That last line, really... It was like a stab in the heart ; n ; That's really the worst thing
That last line, really... It was like a stab in the heart ; n ; That's really the worst thing