Do forgive me for the more esoteric question this time, but it has been bouncing around in my head for sometime now. One of my favorite tropes is the psychic head space, that when someone with mind reading abilities enter deeply into another's mind that they enter a psychic space that represents that person. Such as someone who lived their entire life in the military their psychic head space take the form of the army base they lived on, or someone with a very reserved personally head space might be a a tightly back cube with containers for all their thoughts and memories. The best example of this would be the Psychonauts games. So my question is what dose your ocs psychic head space look like?
Oh, no worries; this isn’t the weirdest thing people have asked me. Hmmm, I could do a set of OCs who actually have physically manifested psychic realms (which neatly coincides with my most recent painting of one of them!).
The Fauns of Thormundar are semi-divine beings, being the children of Oghamos, the God of Nature, and are able to travel between the material and immaterial realms. The most notable of them, the four seasonal siblings of Kormun, have created pocket realms in the conceptual void that are each based on their psyche.
Kernun’s realm, the Circle, is simply a recreation of the Utangard Forest, which borders the lands of Kormun, except that the forest stretches to all corners of the realm. It is a place of eternal green, with verdant swathes of growth and trees that tower over others.
Herneus’ realm, the Glade, is largely similar to the Circle, except it is a realm in perpetual autumn. Vegetation grows unchecked, forming a myriad of snaking passages that spell trouble for those targeted by the God of the Hunt.
There is only a single structure in the realm, which also serves as Herneus’ home: a towering home built into a giant oak tree, its facade a gigantic deer’s skull with twin antlers made of the oak’s branches growing through the skull.
Gwynnad’s realm, the Rime, is a frozen and wintry forest, a fitting realm of the God of Death. The trees are bare, with snow weighing on the boughs and icicles hanging from branches as though they were the teeth of demons. great shards of ice jut from the snowy ground, and a pervasive fog hangs around the air, freezing flesh and chilling bones.
Stone ruins, crumbled by time, dot the landscape, although in the centre of Gywnnad’s realm lies a great longhouse of wood, stone, and ice, where he makes his home.
The most strikingly different of the realms, Orin’s realm of the Garden is a world of flesh and bone, the sky a purulent yellow. There is no vegetation, the closest thing to grass being patches of slick flesh dotted by pustules, veins, and exposed teeth-like bones. Trees of sinew and flesh grow from the fetid meat, hands dumbly grasping for the sky as they crown these trees.
In the heart of the Garden, there rises a monolith of flesh that towers over everything else, and in there Orin makes his home.