It’s JJBA time! As you all know if you've followed this blog in the past— and if you haven't, hi— a while ago I did about a series talking about my TWST OC Cyrielle amongst several other of my OCs pretty much going into extreme detail about her over the course of four different posts because I cannot draw for the life of me and yapping to the extreme is the perfect cure for that.
Also, by showing off how there are so many other mediums to show off your OCs, I want people to be more creative and less lazy. If you use AI, either get out now or sit through for today’s lesson.
So, needless to say we're gonna do this again.
Only this time we're talking about a far different
OC in a far different fandom.
We're talking JOJO'S BIZARRE ADVENTURE, BABY!!
Thus, throughout this lengthy post (as l've decided to not divide it into four different ones again) I will be disclosing to you all my current fixations which inspired this piece, guide you through my thoughts and process, as well as doing what I do best: yap.
But first, allow me to show off the directory:
Part 2 - Design and Appearance
With our directory set let’s begin!
This section covers everything from the OCs name to Aliases to their relationships to their personality and other traits. Commonly, these serve as the building blocks for characters. In my own personal experience I find that even something as simple as a name can round a character out. Everything has purpose, even if that purpose is just for the sake of existence like their hobbies or style of dress (which we'll be cover in part 2).
But for now let's just get started.
Age: Age 23 years (Stardust Crusaders) ; Age 34 years (Diamond in Unbreakable) ; Age 35 years (Golden Wind) ; Age 46 Years (Stone Ocean)
Date of Birth: October 5th 1965
Nationality: Japanese-American
Occupation: Guitarist and Lead Vocalist of a very small, underground band.
Goals: To get rid of her stand and be normal.
Much like how the stands and abilities in JJBA are based off songs Orevia’s ability is based of the song ' Wolf House ' by Indie artist Rabbitology courtesy of my own favortisim towards the artist and my newfound metaphor between comparing stars and animals.
Both the constant watchers of the human world and yet always so distanced from it in such distinctly different yet oh-so-similar ways. Watchers, judging quietly and dealing punishment in silence as mortals set out to conquer both each other and the world from its wilderness to its cosmos which is wrong on its own which is just something that can’t seem to be done without violence because to ' conquer ' and rule over something so firmly requires violent action to instill compliance— something which even the natural world instinctively attempts to reject because the natural state of this world has always been the freedom to change without oppression.
I mean that both in the sense of personality and physical form btw, see the natural occurrence of evolution overtime.
' House of Rules ' takes two of what I be to deem some of the rebellious forms in nature and combines them. Animals and Space.
Specifically for the animals I use wolves for the safe of that standard wolf imagery that they are animals of freedom AND because they’re heavily associated with nighttime and the moon which also leads to some star association too. Also, it ties really well into my favorite song that way so HAH.
Now, to examine the actual song itself
' Wolf House ' or as I have temporarily re-worded it for the stand name ' House of Wolves '
Is a song following the story of a young woman protecting her younger sister from a werewolf who has broken into their house and eaten their mother— her father absent at the time and perhaps soon coming home as the song mentions " Papa’s Homecoming " though the real kicker is that later in the song we hear the line—
" I’m your seed and you’re the reaper "
Which leaves me to believe that the werewolf is not just some random beast, but their father thus turning the song into an allegory for both domestic and child abuse. IF you wanted to take it any further you could simply say that the wolf is more a metaphor for any sort of abuser or tormenter or even just random-malcontented soul who has gone out of their way to harm this family but for the sake of Orevia’s narrative I’m going to go with my father theory as it sets the preface for some of the major topics in her backstory like generational trauma and abuse cycles which are a very distinct part of her character.
But, since we’ve covered all we need for the reason of WHY it’s time to move of it’s actual capabilities and how exactly it manifests.
' House of Wolves ' takes the primary form of a physically mutation upon it’s users skin— in Orevia’s case it darkens her skin and imbues itself down in her muscle and bone thus resulting in a sort of dark, semi-sentient matter that reacts and changes according to her directions resulting in several unique capabilities such as:
☾ Changing her hands and feet into an assortment of melee weapons such as swords, daggers, khopesh, sickles / scythes, chainsaw, hammer, HUGE claws, spears, are basically elongated tendrils with sharpened points. The shadows harden and are generally tough enough that to cut through metal without issue.
☾ Her most iconic power is shifting forms entirely, of course, its only limited to a full form and several sort-of half way forms that come somewhere in between that full transformation to true celestial wolf-dom. I’ll go into the details of how that form looks later in her actual appearance section, but for now her whole deal in this form is giant, freakily strong wolf from space more than likely. You can imagine what that probably entails.
☾ ' Mimicry ' : a special ability Orevia specially mastered with her stand where she links a part of her dark matter to the shadow of a different person / creature allowing her to control that individual’s body until they break free due to external forces like the dark matter being physically separated. It also allows her own shadow to come to life if she uses this ability on herself!
☾ Dark matter can also be used to form special shadow creatures, nothing too terribly big but small creatures such as lambs, dogs, cats, snacks, and decent sized birds. Her maximum capabilities for this is really creating any animal medium-sized or smaller. For example, she could make a lion cub, but not a lion. These creatures can attack, spy, and explode on command though Orevia feels bad about making them do that so she usually just creates them when she’s lonely.
☾ Regeneration : A large part of her body is made up of this dark matter down to the very vessel so when she gets injured it behaves a bit differently than flesh. Instead of bleeding, it produces a semi-opaque gel that I can only describe you as prismatic cosmic jam which strings out like cobwebs throughout the wound, creating a thin veil that slowly hardens and fills in until it’s fully healed. Hitting her in a part that’s actually flesh OR continually hitting the weakened point of skin is the best way to beat her since it’s the most vulnerable. Careful not to get near anything flame able though, her exterior may be shadow, but her the goo that replaces her body is a bright and highly-flammable substance considering the fact it’s semi-solidified star matter which contains more toxic and highly dangerous gasses than anything else saw for maybe an atom bomb! Light her up and the only person saved from that destruction is herself.
As for the secret side of her more regenerative ability I haven’t necessarily discussed most of her star-based patterns, so let us start that whole discussion now :
☾ Much like splitting open the fabric of space itself all the color, power, and light is hidden behind the thick veil of darkness overlaying it. This means a lot of her abilities only come from when she’s ' bleeding ', not all, but most.
☾ A prime example is the ability to light herself on fire, as the gel seeps out through her skin Orevia essentially becomes a walking gasoline can ready to be ignited at any moment. She actually carries a lighter just for that purpose so when all else fails she likes excreting as much as possible then flinging herself at the enemy like a human molotov.
☾ Star Map : If she focuses well-enough, she can get directions on where she is from the stars and how to get to other places. It’s lame compared to the others, but it’s hard to get lost when she’s got a giant gps in the clouds.
☾ Noxious Kiss : Considering her internal body is made of highly dangerous gases as we have discussed, when she kisses someone she risks injecting them a faint amount of toxin. Luckily, the effect isn’t deadly (unless you happen to be allergic) but it works as an excellent sedative since it essentially causes you to get high.
☾ Bioluminescence : Pop her bones and she glows like a glow-stick. No further statement needed.
(( P.S.: Due to her boundless self-hatred and wanting to get rid of her stand it often likes to mess her by doing things completely on its own accord outside of battle for some reason and is constantly playing pranks of people to cause problems for Orevia. She also is incredibly cautious about using her full form for this sole reason too as she won’t be in any control of what happens during that state. ))
Family: Unnamed Mother [Alive] ; Unnamed Father [Alive] ; Unnamed Grandmother on Mother’s Side [Alive] ; Unnamed Grandfather on Mother’s Side [Deceased] ; Unnamed Grandmother on Father’s Side [Deceased] ; Unnamed Grandfather on Father’s Side [Deceased]
Friends : Several OC individuals (she sadly is not friends with any of the main cast until MUCH later in her journey.)
Synopsis: ' A notably average young woman who wishes to live nothing more than an average life ' as described by herself. ' a conspiracy conjured by government wartime fear and prejudice to scare those into doing that which is compliant and righteous ' to the common individual which recalls her name being in papers years ago, not on the cover but in a true crime and modern mystery sub-story long forgotten by many and particularly despised by Orevia herself.
Orevia is polite, reasonable, she is not particularly brash or annoying, she’s not outgoing in the sense she likes to be around people, despite this she is fond of most people, but never bothers to form a lasting connection in fear of what they will do if they continue to stick around. She seems confident— overly so— in her abilities and her appearance, but her self-hatred is PLENTIFUL, just well-hidden.
Amidst certain episodes she can’t stand to look in a mirror longer than needed, attaches a lace hood to her jacket to help keep her face hidden, furiously files at her claws until they look more human only for her to get frustrated when they grow back again. When they’re over she’s back to her normal self again, a polite but quiet young woman who wishes nothing more but to live her simple life in peace when she can.
A wolf who wishes to rip out its fangs and join the lambs.
((She’s also a FREAK, but that’s a topic for a whole other post.))
Likes: Cake without frosting, food, food x2, music, star gazing, space, fizzy drinks, rock & roll, dentist appointments.
Dislikes: Her Stand and Herself, chai spice, running out of the hair-care and self-care items she uses RELIGIOUSLY, lemon water, snapping her guitar strings with her claws, wireless headphones, injustice, prejudice.
Hobbies: Playing Guitar, reading, listening to music, collecting CDs and Vinyls, watching random YouTube videos on incredibly niche topics, burning CDs
Part 2 — Design and Appearance
My favorite part! If there's one thing I adore about character design it's the actual design part! There's just so many things that can be conveyed about a character through their appearance alone that makes it so much fun for me and using physical appearance to convey personality traits is always peak in my own opinion. And even though I cannot draw the internet and Pinterest provide me with the ultimate tools for character creation. And no, Al is not welcome here as I have mentioned.
So, let's review today's alternatives as we go through our sub-categories!
So, for this particular character just so you all get the general vibe of what I’m going for we’ll be doing a mixture between space-y, minorly secretly eldritch, beastie and wolf aesthetics because I’m smashing two ideas into one and I have a vision to go along with it.
For starters, let’s talk about her most defining features: Her skin and her deformities / metaphysical features.
I think I want to abyss-a-fie most of her limbs and majority of her body save for maybe a part of her torso and her left shoulder. This means totally blacking out most of her skin and replacing it with something more like dark matter or living shadow, dark matter would be more accurate in this case given her ability and connection to space. So, I’m going to black it out in full of give her a more swirly and wave pattern like the one pictured below over her entire body save for a portion of the left side of her chest. (Kind of like the image below amplified by 100.)
In that portion of real, tanned skin sprinkled with freckles along her shoulder and a nipple where you will be able to see the scar she gave herself when she cleaved off her her boobs leaving behind a jagged line similar to top surgery scars plus some freckles.
Which actually reminds me — random fact about her character, she chopped of her real tiddies for fun and because she thought they were too much a hassle then sometimes uses the dark matter on her body to reform them when wants them and then gets rid of them again.
She Doesn’t really understand the concept of gender though because of this so she continually uses she/it pronouns while her physical gender changes because if I’m being honest, if you tell her you’re pronouns once she’s gonna use that and then if you change them because what the fuck do you mean this certain word has a certain meaning for somebody’s body? Is everybody not a she? Why are some people are he?
She doesn’t get it in like the most ally way possible
Then, layered atop her skin I’m going to do some protruding eyes balls. Kind of like this—
but less flat so they’re all bulbous and uneven. All of them are gonna be very technicolor and more rainbow with small pupils of various shaps that aren’t circles— ovals, squares, stars, pentagons, any kind of polygon really, and some weirder ones I don’t have names for.
They’ll probably only be opened some of the time though which leaves her with a weird skin pattern. It’s meant to look very knotted and sort of spiral-esc when you look very closely at it sort of like you’re being pulled into a black hole to add onto the ' out of this world ' and space-esc vibe.
In a similar sense, I want to make them very textured and gross, so they have this sort of glossy sheen as the skin seems to warp at her command. Dulling, sharpening, thinning, thickening, shortening, and elongating as needed, maybe even spiking up when she’s startled.
For the most part the similar black-substance covers her body but it gathers especially around her hands and feet.
Oh, and she has clawed feet with sort of an arch to them, plus toe beans but they aren’t very noticeable. Speaking of her feet those get a very similar treatment with some added elements. For example, the more she descends into a less humanoid form while her sanity slowly unravels or she shifts slowly into a full beasts form her legs alone become less and less human.
Normally, she stands at stage 2. Arched foot, no bent knee.
AND HER TEETH. God, I lover her teeth and mouth. (Don’t take that out of context.)
Originally, she doesn’t have at all in her beta design, her face is totally blank save for her left eye which I’ll show in a sec. But now I’ve decided that whole her face will still be blank save for that one eye her jaw will do this thing where it splits open and shows these rows of pristine, un-cannily white perfect teeth that shine like stars in her jaw.
Big fangs, jagged front teeth, a bristled tongue that’s a similarly white color too like a lions which makes it perfect for licking meat straight from bones.
Oh, and logged in the back of throat (something which becomes more apparent in her full form) is a dead lambs head that bleats softly towards the next prey which symbolizes how she’s essentially choking down her childhood youth in hopes to burry her past and be unburdened by that girl she finds so weak when in reality it is this separation that’s killing her by metaphorically and sometimes physically choking her.
My idea right now is that she’ll have multiple different irises and pupils that look very scattered from each other BUT each pupil and iris will lines up together to form a more coherent eye kinda like this:
I wanted it to match her other eyes in color but not follow the same pattern to make it more distinctive so it does appear as the ‘original’ of sorts which is why it’s the only one capable of splitting off like this:
By the way, notice how she also has either really bright (specifically on her eyes) or really dark (specifically on her body) colors to symbolize the different between viewing the world as something beautiful through a certain set of lenses like a child’s and how in reality as life moves on the colorful lens of childhood fades out as your body degrades into something unrecognizable. The Hope of Ignorance vs The Despair of Reality.
I hated finding a hair to go with this and I want you all to know that. That said, you know I had to be as extra as possible and give her the wildest hair cut I can find.
That said she’s getting a super-fluffy shaggy haircut and she’s likes it because it’s the hair cut her mommy’s been giving her her entire life and she refuses to change it and the way it fans out at the sides gives it a more roguish and wolfish appearance which is what we want.
Imma keep it real with you all, the her first ever ' canon ' appearance in the manga / anime would be in part 5 as she’s set out to find Giorno and inform him of his true family background for the purposes of her own lore because I find it crazy they NEVER delved deeper into the plotline of him being Dio’s son and would like to address that elephant in the room some more.
To match not only the aesthetic of Golden Wind, but keep true to her character I’m going to embrace the modernity aspect of her fashion since it proves she is still clinging to a teensy bit of her humanity through trying to dress like a normal person would, BUT I’m going to place her in a more alternative style that has a fair amount but not a lot of skin showing since I still would like to show off her physique since it’s such an important part of her character AND it’s a fact she wears sort of revealing clothes anyway because she gets hot way to easily thanks to being literally part-star.
THAT MEANS IM GONNA GO WITH THIS!
In all honesty, I would usually put outfits together like patchwork but I found this and it felt too good not to use so this is it.
Thus, her whole fit and appearance is done!
Aaaand now we get to talk about the other form itself . . . yayyy!
*I Am... All Of Me by Crush faintly grows louder*
Occasionally, Orevia's body shall begin to contort.
The bones twist and her flesh churns away from the marrow as it becomes wicked taint which bursts out, bubbling as it shapes into something new.
A possible woman slowly succumbing to the jaws of her bestiality.
First form are four, great-elm trunk sized paws, each toe equipped with a bone-white claw that shimmers faintly like glittery lipstick of girlish childhood or the stars themselves.
Next is the body, its fur sleek and dark with the texture of the sky, something that seems so tangible one can touch it in their minds but it instead evades, never truly able to be felt by the human hand as it remains distant as a shadow. Unable to be touched unless the beast allows, otherwise most touch glides through its flesh like a hand cutting through murky water.
The third is the monster's tail, it slaps out and spikes up to mirror the tufts of fur at the end of a genuine lupine tail yet they seem far too sharp.
Fourthly, it's muzzle froths an off-yellow foam as it stretches out from what once was her jaw, matching yellow teeth growing out from the inky-black gums as though there was nothing there to even hold them. Captured between them the lamb remains, the light now taking on a new form as it is the sheep's head lodged into the beasts throat, it's eyes glow faintly and it's mouth hangs open in cry. With every howl there is a softer bleat that follows.
Finally, it's wretched face. It's nostrils do not exit but it puffs out breath that warm the skin, like a fire dancing just a few inches away, safe, for now. Behind its head dances a mane of dark tendrils fading off tho waves of light, hypnotics as the spin and twirl, deadly to those which admire it and fail to see how it watches. Its left eye does not exist, a stagnant void covers where it should be, but the right eye rolls out from the flesh, wobbling and turning every-direction possible as lines of neon colors dance around a single, black diamond pupil.
my personal favorite part : )
" Fear and Cowardice are not something I know, for as long as there are stars gleaming in the sky I too am alive. "
Looking back on it now she can’t decide if these words were comfort or inspiration for the distant vision of a woman that is her mother, perhaps both. What she does know was the woman that raised her was a survivor. Every story, every speck of history she could get her hands on was something she proudly reserved in her chest.
Born in 1911 to a seamstress and a rice farmer, her mother had a happy childhood. That is to say when her father wasn’t drinking, for the kind-hearted and soft old man who tied her shoes and pulled her onto the couch to watch catch that Orevia knew was not the same her mother had known. Instead, her mother had to deal with this angry, broken man who couldn’t handle the world falling around him.
Her grandmother was strong too.
Always headstrong, witty, and brave. She often put her own body between Orevia’s mother and her grandfather without second thought because she could not bear her daughter having to see him for what he truly was. She did anyway, but grandma tried her best. In times of stress though, Grandma would lead Orevia’s mother out to the rice feels and sit atop a towel laid over a muddy embankment, their feet dipped down lazily in the water as they gazed up at the heavens. Her grandmother would tell her mother old myths and legends about the sky and all its stars. Some real, some made up.
Life went on and the stars watched even when the sun was out, hidden somewhere far beyond a blue horizon.
With hungry, devilish eyes for they have seen every good and every sin humanity has committed and, oh, how they seethe. They surround the earth like wolves. Judging, waiting, anticipating the moment the fiends below slip up and venture a bit too far off the path for in every bit of darkness space lies still in wait, a familiar void just as restlessly waiting to sink its teeth into mortal flesh.
" justice, " it growls as the gnarled face of a wolf forms from mush, " This is the only justice you deserve for what you have done. "
For it watched how in the summer of 1932, just at age 21, men pounded at her grandparents door asking loudly to speak to the girl in the back who they saw weaving rice baskets on the porch earlier. It watched as they spoke of ‘opportunity’ of a chance to help her family with more money given the state of the war and country. Good citizenship and very important for the family. It was watched how after much persuasion her mother signs a contract that seems to promise everything she wants and is then loaded onto a wagon with several other girls from her village.
It watched lies and deceit unfurl before them like paper.
Her mother was not working, she was instead forced to be what the prettier woman of the establishment she was brought to called her ' a comfort woman. ' Each day passes and she is kept caged in a small, tatami-mat floored room with a single tiny window and a single futon. A line of men- Soldiers- flood out the door just to see her and those other girls. When a ' client ' takes too long the next bangs on the door loudly— she learns that aggression will be taken out on her instead. She learns to keep quiet, to take the pain and bite her mat.
Some men do more than what they came for, they hit her, bruise her, trace her gently with their knives. She learns quickly what happens to those who resist, so she takes it.
Her only comfort is the tiny piece of the night sky she sees peering through her window down at her. She smiles up at the stars on occasion, whispering silent prayers for only them to hear each night. She pretends she is back in the rice field laying curled in her mother’s arms atop the blanket with their feet dangling into the water, her toes accidentally grazing the slippery mud and her hair flowing in the dirt.
Growing older and tired, the pain and strife becomes visible on her face, yet broken as she seems she does not break. Instead, she continues to pray to the stars for if god cannot hear her perhaps the leering eyes of heaven can. They can. And they listen well.
Come 1945 more soldiers arrive only they speak a different language and wear different uniforms. For a moment, she resigns to let them be comforted too, only they instead lead her out of that small room and into the sunlight. Other girls walk around languidly, heads turned up to the sunlight for the first time in years instead of down at the bloodstained ground littered with the bodies of men, some of which she even recognized as those who visited her.
The new men, these American Soldiers, the winners of this war comfort them for once. Nurses give them checkups, officials and general’s clerics rush to find information on families and friends to send them back home. That night, as stars re-appear from their hiding space she thanks them for listening. For sinking their stardust fangs down into the wicked men who deserved it. She relishes in their pain as they relished in hers for so long, smiling happily as she imagined how terrified they must have felt in their final moments.
Sadistic, but well-deserved.
She returns home soon on the same wagon she left in with some odd few girls, something inside her aches when she realizes there were only five instead of eleven of them. Everything is the same, same fields, same houses, children playing in the street, wind chimes strung up in windows, clay pots decorating front porches. Nothing has changed, but she knows it will never be the same. When she arrives back at her parents house they do not hug her, instead, they cry. They cry for what feels like hours not because they are not overjoyed to see her, but because of how broken you look.
The pain is more evident than any time before now and her mother knows it.
A year passes, her mother leaves home again to help with the US-led allied restoration throughout Japan starting in Hokkaido as a volunteer worker to help feed construction workers and housed US soldiers. She joined a local woman’s suffrage group and fought for many rights besides voting, she temporarily joined a news organization that took her story from the war-time and publicized it, she even traveled back home several times to help industrialize some of her village and spread the word to those living there. In 1947 she makes the decision to attend school for the first time years and gets her education through an organization known as the Speedwagon Foundation which later offers her a job as a lead astronomer in their project to help navigate the cosmos.
1952, Oreavia’s Mother meets and years later in 1955 marries Orevia’s father who is an American soldier still lingering in Japan while other forces finally pull out of the country upon order of the president. They both later move to Texas to be closer to work with the Speedwagon Foundation, Orevia’s father works as a construction worker and carpenter for the time after the work, usually deployed by the Speedwagon foundation while her mother remains on duty as a head astronomer promoted by the head director of the time under order of Joseph Jostar to keep a close eye out for ‘ spatial anomalies ‘ ( Yes. The anomaly he is looking out for is Kars just to be safe.)
Orevia was actually born on October 5th 1965.
Aside from always being quite sickly, her own childhood was nothing like her mothers, between her parents' jobs bringing in a steady income and her grandfather’s rehabilitation after a divorce from her grandmother she got to see sides of the family her mother never did. Orevia could not ignore the flaws of her family though. She could not ignore the tension between her father and his parents whenever the got together for dinner or the holidays; she could not ignore the way her mother would flinch when a man came to close of the way she would sob into her pain late at night when the feeling of greedy hands would never leave her body; she could not ignore the way her Mother’s father looked down in shame whenever he saw his ex-wife or was remotely close to Orevia’s mother; she could not ignore the way her grandmother would hold her tight whenever she visited, always as though she was hugging her for the very last time; she could not ignore the lonely moments drifting outside corridors as she waited for heated arguments to settle, for her mother to come back down from a panic attack her father was making no better because he was never good enough with his words or feelings to be of any use. At age 8 she caught on quickly to how cold and warm a house could be at once, she was loved but that loved was divided and faltering between everyone her bright eyes once gleamed up at.
At school things were no better, kids would pick at her for her mother’s homemade lunches featuring all the foods she grew up eating, for when she forgot a word in English and had to come up with some roundabout way of saying it because they would mock her for saying it in Japanese, some men whispered what a shame it was she was born at all. ‘ Intermingling was a sin ‘ they said. Mothers fretting about their children catching her skin color like some kind of disease, ‘ I don’t want any child of mine around a girl like that. Her skin its too yellow to be healthy. ’ Her mother would undergo the same treatment when they went out in public, the adults were more vicious to her though. Men would slink their hands where they didn’t belong when they weren’t hitting, some cat-called others screamed profanities Orevia can’t bother to remember because her mother had her shaking hands clamped over her little ears. What she can recall is the anger, how each and every time it coursed through her veins so brightly, how her nails dug into her tiny hands so hard it drew blood, how her lips would bleed when she bit too deeply into it. She restrained thanks to her mother, the woman always corralling her to safety far away from those who stared with ill-intention just a bit too long.
That was never going to be good enough though.
She remembers it vividly in the way she can still feel the blood staining her teeth, dripping down from her lips. Three boys, pushing and shoving from all sides, one trying to tug off her jacket. A book slipped from her bag and she snatched it for any of their tiny, greedy little hands could. She remembers hitting them, not any details about how hard she did it or she managed to get all three, but she was hitting them back. The book fell from her hands, cream pages caked in something like the red velvet cake her mother made just yesterday. It was everywhere, her hands, her uniform, her hair, they were still alive and crying when she started biting and were so when she finished although perhaps they lacked a few fingers and chunks of meat. Then came the horrified screech of a teacher who had just rounded the corner, her shiny leather shoes stained with blood. Before her was no child, but some twisted and sick thing, some tainted created stained in black ichor and crimson.
She was back to normal by the time her parents showed.
This was the pattern it followed though the details are fuzzy in her brain, she just remembers smiling when her mother laid down next to her in bed that night and asked her if she would do such a thing. Orevia didn’t answer, she stopped answering to the questions of her violence a long time ago. It spoke for itself. For every ounce of hurt she felt the rage amplified and so did her lust for vengeance, for compensation that was never given to her or her mother. If they wanted to speak in violence she would do so too, she would replace their disgust and greed with fear. That’s when the fever hit worst, the sickness which plagued her entire life until that point hit worse than ever and no doctor seemed to know what to do until her mother managed to get the Speedwagon foundation involved— the emergence of a stand. That’s what they called it. She didn’t understand what those words meant at some point, but the doctors seemed to be trying their best to save her. One night, resting in the cool sterile lab that had been re-made into her temporary bedroom, a glimmer of something shooting past her window caught her eye. Crawling from her bed, she stood haphazardly on a rolling chair to get a better view. Silver followed by lines of prismatic color fell in X’s across the sky, colorful eyes like kaleidoscope lenses peering out from a treelined far on the edge of the property line.
The stars beckoned her out.
Slipping from the room and out into the dark night, she waded through the shadow with her head held high
She goes missing for 12 years, re-discovered at age 20 by a family living in Appalachia who had noticed something was startling their animals at night only to find a girl, or what should have been a girl. Changed, morphed, some may even say deformed. Why she doesn’t care to speak on what happened during those 12 years, she seems to have not missed out on anything at all. ‘ Because of the ever looking eyes ‘ was her reason, the ones no man could ever get rid of no matter how hard they tried. The one which saw all human good and every human sin. A specialist from the foundation collects her, takes her home, it’s exactly as she remembered. Same grass, same hole in fence her dad has yet to patch, Same tire swing, same clay pots sitting on the front porch, same wind chimes playing the early spring breeze. The doctors don’t leave— they won’t for another year or two— they try their best to explain what’s wrong, about why she’s not anything close to human anymore.
A stand merging with a human body.
At age 23 she meets Joseph Joseph who has just returned on a trip from Asia, they shake hands and he asks questions to which she can only give vague answers. A normal girl save for the new unsettling appearance and an unseen before stand, that’s what he jots down in the file. She gives spare details about what happened during her 12 years missing: picked up a guitar, learned to pick it well and played for cash when she could, hitchhiked south to north and west to east then back again. She watched through her eyes and only used her teeth when necessary, she made friends with people she’d never see again and made even better allies with some who followed behind her like a shadow, a ghost that the more she grew closer to the more it seeped beneath her skin. Two souls in separate bodies just didn’t feel right.
Orevia calls herself an it as much as a she now, she does not go home as often and prefers to wander, but when she does she sits silently in the same room as her mother and father for some time. They don’t need worse to express the worry and relief . . . the newfound fear anytime they even glance at her.
She didn’t mean for them to be scared too.
She just wanted the mean people to leave her and her mommy alone.
All she wanted was to save her mommy, she didn’t mean to be so scary, she didn’t want to hurt anybody but there hands were everywhere, and the glaring never stopped, and the snide comments and sick remarks never vanished, WHAT ELSE WAS SHE TO DO!?
What was she meant to do!?
How the thought made her blood broil, disgusting was she to their eyes and yet they continued to hold so little contempt to those which forced her hand in the first place? Was she truly so hard to look at that her own parents would not even dare to defend her? She was furious, again.
Needed to make them see her.
Needed to be safe in her mother’s arms again.
She needed to get rid of this damned thing one way or another.
So, she bid her time well, pulled her strings and snuck in conversations during her check-ups at the Speedwagon foundation when she finally managed to pull herself to of her cramped, apartment flat that her parents her bought her— couldn’t stand looking at her everyday even while she was finally getting back on her feet. They could never manage to see their little girl beneath the beast. Orevia learned of a vampire man in Cairo, of his stone mask and stolen body, she learned Joseph Jostar had already assembled his team and was on the move. She had to get there first though, because if the Speedwagon Foundation wasn’t going to do it for her for the sake of their research she had to ask that vampiric man her questions— she had to know if there was a way he could rid her of her own soul and destroy her stand once and for all!
Part 4 — Extra Yap Session
☾ What precisely goes down on her journey in a one-sided race against the Stardust Crusaders? Well, she looses that’s for one. Due to having not only avoid BUT STILL SPY ON the crusaders at the time while tracking down DIO on her own + staying out of their mess leads ultimately to her downfall as keeping up with all of them AND having to travel the world in 50 days WITHOUT Speedwagon Foundation funding is incredibly hard. Ultimately, DIO dies before she could ever get him to answer her question and she has to force herself back into hiding like nothing happened.
In a moment of comedy though you can often spot her lurking in the background with ease and the Crusaders probably would recognize her from the last location in they actually used their attention spans for something besides DIO. Jotaro catches her the most, yet never confronts her because w oddly doesn’t seem like she wants to get their way
A few years pass and during the plot of Diamond is Unbreakable she essentially goes on a RRREEEAAALLYY long re-con mission where she gathers up every piece of information she can about DIO and his ties to the Jostar Bloodline which leads her down a long rabbit hole of ' okay. Cool. That’s a neat way to get a stand, BUT HOW DO YOU GET RID OF ONE??? ' At one point she does stop by Morioh though just to enjoy the sky and spy on the newest Jostar where she actually has a brief interaction with Jotaro who recognizes her from all those years ago. (Btw this is some odd amount of minutes after the Rat fight occurred.)
The two exchange words and suspicions, stands ready to be used, but the fight never comes and they go their separate ways.
☾ As for what she was during Golden Wind . . . *I start sweating profusely*
Successfully piecing together that DIO actually had a son before most of the main cast does Orevia packs her bags and takes an impromptu flight to Italy where she actually witnesses poor Koichi get robbed by Giorno. Weirdly enough, she finally steps in and manages to help the kid out by creating a shadow version of his luggage for Giorno to steal instead then forks the real deal over later once the blond leaves.
Thus, her usual spying begins.
She watches over Giorno closely as she can, but soon realizes he has no clue who is father and dips for a while because that essentially means he’s useless to her.
Luckily, however, this results in her feeling very guilty later on so she decides to track him down again to tell him about his father himself! This kid does kinda need to learn his family history before DIO’s and Johnathan genes start showing through. Unfortunately, by this time Giorno has officially fled the country with his new friends so Orevia spends the whole time chasing after them.
She does get a few interactions with Fugo before that though as she’s curious as to why he stayed behind, this actually gives them several cool bonding moments over how they actually dislike their stands and discuss the guilt and shame behind that hatred.
They exchange numbers and she actually keeps him updated with her spying so he feels less like a bastard about abandoning his friends and can grieve properly as time passes rather than finding out later.
By the time she finds Giorno Diavolo has been placed in his death loop and he is officially the boss, with a smile on her face she lures the blond away through the city and the two actually battle it out before she manages to pin him with ability for a long chat.
As it turns out, Giorno Giovanna isn’t such a brat of a kids as you think he is and knows almost as little of his own stand as he did his family history. Having given all she learned and receiving no more in return, Orevia excuses herself and fades into the night.
Then a few days later she accidentally murders Diavolo and incidentally becomes a reoccurring theme in several of his deaths as she originally treats them like a sorta experiment to see if King Crimson disappears after a certain time. She also bullies him about being absolutely pathetic most of the time. Strangely though, the two form an odd bond as Orevia realizes this too is getting her no where and realize how oddly similar their goals are. In the end, she offers him a place to stay as a recluse and in return all Diavolo has to do is test something on the occasion.
☾ During Stone Ocean she spent the whole time in Italy researching and messing around with her newfound situationship only to show up in the very and use her star speaking ability to help Emporio re-build the universe without Pucci so it’s as similar as possible (this means no weird name changes!) and then dips again.
☾ She literally haunts the narrative for no reason and I don’t even know why. She shows up for .2 second every arc, gives strange advice, then just leaves.
