Brookyln's hair was a mess. A ring of chestnut brown roots circled the bubblegum pink (in a way similar to the rings of Saturn), dirt staining her face, hair, and clothes. Her once signature look was nearly unidentifiable, ripped, and stained to the point it was unrecognizable. Her sickly thin figure, clearly malnourished and lacking any usual curves was trembling; her rips too defined and muscles (courtesy of running for your life on killer monster islands) rippling. But Brooklyn's head was high, her sparkling emerald eyes bright. For once the smile she put on for the camera belonged to the real Brooklyn.
"Hey, Brooklanders! Ugh guys, it still sounds weird to me. Seriously, you ruined my catchphrase for me."
Ducking into the camera's sight, a short boy with gray eyes, peach-colored muddy skin, and mused chocolate brown hair waved. His appearance was haggard, with his stained, soiled clothes, muddy, dirt-streaked form, and armor made out of tree bark and twine. His focus, however, was on the pink-haired girl as he asked, "Wasn't your catchphrase - this is gonna be a Brooklyn exclusive?"
His voice was high and rung with falsetto high notes - clearly trying to imitate his friend's higher-pitched tone. Brooklyn scoweled.