[fancypost bgcolor=; bordercolor=; borderwidth=0px; font-family: times new roman; font-size: 50px; margin-bottom: -17px; letter-spacing: -2px; text-align: center; color: COLOR; text-transform: lowercase; text-shadow: 2px 2px 2px black; margin-top: -15px;]roxy lalonde[/fancypost]
[fancypost bgcolor=; bordercolor=; borderwidth=0px; width: 400px; color: COLOR; line-height: 100%; font-size: 12px; text-align: justify;][i wrote the majority of the sad stuff while listening to this if you wanna give it a listen !! c: a little blood/gore warning, uhhh... i tried to write some horror/creepy stuff too, though i don't think it worked too well eheheh
i'll post an open-ended thing for RP purposes later, so for now just enjoy B)]
ic; Lalonde had barely held herself together until the meeting was over; she dismissed herself and, as casually as she could, had set off for the privacy of her old booze hideout. It was the only place she could think of where she wouldn't be stumbled upon. Her den was in the middle of the hustle and bustle of the camp, and patrols littered the outskirts of the territory, so nobody was safe out there. Only she knew where this was.
Roxy darted into her small cave and knocked over a few glasses, effectively smashing them on the stone ground. Glass shards littered the area, and some small ones dug into her foot, but she didn't care. She was alone. Free to fucking panic all you want, Lalonde. She remembered when this place looked more open, light - welcoming, even. She viewed it both as a restful place, where she could be alone with her thoughts, or as her ticket to avoiding those same, dreary images in her head, of her mother puking for nights on end, of her cold, stiff corpse. Now it just made her more upset to see. It was lonely and dark. The sun didn't shine through the opening of the cave anymore - without the light, it was gray, like most of its color had been sucked away. The interior of the cave grew dimmer the further she entered, so she had never gone far. It felt like she was teetering on the edge of the void, a great, big black hole where if she fell in, she would never escape.
She ducked behind a crate of alcohol and took a moment to catch her breath. Deputy. She was deputy. Roxy could imagine all her qualifications for the job already: a recovering alcoholic, anxious, depressed, too fucking secretive to get support for her problems, and... doomed for an early death. That... that was right... that fucking totem singled her out for death. Guidance my motherfucking ass. She was going to die soon. She was going to die and nobody knew anything about it. For all they knew, she was going to be fine, a handy-dandy deputy who did her job well. A person who was someone she wasn't. Ryan, Gavin, Michael, everyone had no idea what was wrong. I'm the train wreck. It's me.
"...I-I don't know what to do, Mom, but I'm...I'm probs gonna see you soon," she whispered to nobody, beginning to cry. Her voice cracked when she spoke. "Holy shit, Mom? I don't- I don't want to go. I like it here. I have fucking badass friends and a nice home and I don't want this to happen and- and- and... Mom? I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry-" her words fell into a garbled mess. She began to weep, curled up in the corner of a cave, alone with nothing but her old booze. Roxy's body shook with each sob. After a time, her paw reached for a bottle, flicking the top off easily. The chief to-be shook violently when she downed the drink, choking several times as the stinging, harsh fluid ran down her wrong pipe. Roxy dropped the empty bottle on the floor.
Minutes passed, then hours, then months, years, centuries, millennia. What was time? She didn't fucking know. Why should she care? Death was inevitable, wasn't it? It didn't matter how much time you had, it was always going to run out. "Hic - heheheeee, M-mom, gueshsh what," Roxy began, "heheh, I'm gonna FUCKING mee' yououou, when'mm deaded, an' I'mma tell you... I'm... gonna tell you... that... you'rerere shish- shi- SHIT," she sang, beginning to roll around on her cavern floor. Her laughter echoed off of the walls, trailing down into the depths of the tunnels. "HAHAHAHA! You're shisht, hahahaha, you SUCK, I am GREAT at inshults - hic - shit, get on m' level, fucker. An'- an' I'll all be dea' n' shit, n' so will yoauo, heheheee. That'll make it ev'n BETTERER. Oh MAN what if... what'sh shtoppin' Ryan from gettin' his mofo ass over here, heeheehehe, get the fuckin' PARTY goin', shiiiiiiit." She rolled towards the steep drop off into the rest of the cave, oblivious to the danger. Her mind was long gone, drowning in alcohol just as it used to. Predictably, Roxy continued her floundering until she was cascading down the edge, scuffing up her body further with cuts and bruises from the rock. She couldn't tell how for how long she fell, but it definitely wasn't short. The pink feline stopped at the bottom of her descent with a loud 'oof,' laying still for several moments as she tried to piece together what happened in her drunken state of mind. Blood stained her pinkish fur, though hell if she knew it. Down there, she couldn't see shit. Roxy tried to stand, body shaking fiercely, but her leg buckled under the pressure and she fell back down. ...It's... br...broken?
-
You abandon the attempt to stand, and try to peer through the darkness. ...Not gonna wooooork, heheh. Too... too much dark. Your head is pounding and shit, this is kinda funny, though you don't quite... know why. Haha, shit, this is really funny, but you can't put your paw tip on it. Maybe it's the warm feeling in your stomach, maybe it knows why you're laughing so much. Aren't you bleeding? Is that funny? Or is it how the darkness seems to growl at you? You can't see it, but you hear scratching on the rock a few feet away. Breathing- no, no, that's wheezing, you can tell. Or... excited hyperventilation? Or are you making that sound? You spend much more time than necessary checking to make sure you are not dragging your claws against the stone.
"Yoooouou," you mumble towards the darkness with a smile, hiccuping a few times. "You shood... like... haf some drinkses! Heehehe. C'mereee, friend..." you drunkenly continue. "I... I think... y'nd'me... could be t-teh threer musk-m-mu-musketeerses... jus' need one more!"
-
It speaks to you. Its voice makes you stand on end - its DISGUSTING, IRRITATING, INFURIATING voice, the way it SCRATCHES at your eardrums like SANDPAPER. Air darts in and out of your nostrils. You can't take it any longer. It will DIE at your claws. You twitch and snarl. It is speaking to you again. You cannot UNDERSTAND them. You NEVER UNDERSTAND. They don't... they don't LEARN. They HAVE TO LEARN.
You crawl towards it. It cannot see. It cannot move. It is WEAK, BROKEN. You can SMELL its BLOOD, taste its FOOLISH TRUST. It thinks it's SAFE. The thought makes you angrier. It is ARROGANT to believe that they can come in YOUR PRESENCE and SPEAK those AWFUL WORDS, and think that they are SAFE. You twitch once, twice more.
Then you pounce. Your claws scrape down its torso like it is a cobweb, easy to rip and tear. The organs pull out with your claws and satisfaction, raw, energizing satisfaction courses through you. Its heart latches on your overgrown nail. You feel its paper-thin lung rip underneath your strength. That THING will not bother you anymore. You have SILENCE. PURE, UNBROKEN SILENCE. It has stopped speaking. It did not even scream, just a gasp. And then. Silence.
You throw it down a large crevice, watching as it flies down into darkness that even you cannot see through. You do not even care to eat it. It is silent again. That is enough.
-
Roxy did not feel herself land; she knew she died halfway down the fall. Her stomach seared in pain like it never had before, and then it just... stopped. Lalonde had felt the pain dim, like she was looking through a tinted window. The longer she fell, the more tinted and dark it became, until she could see or feel anything at all. She remembered it. And now she was back, the wound shut tightly, like it was never there. A scar remained underneath the dried blood, however. She replayed the events back in her head. A breakdown. Drinking. Falling. Being attacked. Dying. Now she was... here. Roxy looked down, watching her body with a mixture of emotions. Her stomach flipped and twisted uneasily. She sat on a (semi-bloodied) slab of stone, with that familiar symbol on the center. She was adorned in a navy-blue outfit, with the same symbol yet again stitched into the center. Black gloves had appeared on her hands and feet, and a navy blue mask stretched across her face and around her head. Her fur wasn't pink, either; it was a dull white, still splattered with blood. ...I die from a... a... thing? And then I have a wardrobe change...wait. I'm a... a Rogue of Void. She wasn't sure how that popped into her head, but it just felt instinctive, safe, right. It was who she was. ...Not the weirdest shit to ever happen, Lalonde, don't be fucking scared, you got this. You're a damn Rogue of Void, apparently. That shit sounds... pretty okay.
She lifted her gaze again, studying the architecture. Oddly, torches lined the room she was in, which made her uneasy, considering how a few hundred feet above, it was pitch black. At least she could see. It was bittersweet, though. Illuminated on the walls were hundreds of packed-together skulls, forming hallways of what she assumed to be a labyrinth of death and more of those creatures. Shit... what WAS that thing? She hadn't gotten a good look at it, but it just didn't sound like anything she'd seen before. More demonic, sadistic. Roxy swallowed and tried to force herself to keep looking, hoping to banish thoughts about her death. But she couldn't. The totem was right... well, shit. I don't see how this is guidance, though...
The chief to-be froze as a skull dropped from the wall, clattering onto the floor. Her blood ran cold. Now's not the time oh my god oh my god oh my god- don't panic don't panic don't panic don't-
She turned on ghostmode and flew up through layers of rock, refusing to explore the nearest hallway. Thank god for fucking powers and cheating. She knew she had some other ones as well: invisibility and conjuring, namely. But, again, it wasn't the time to settle down and try to play with her new abilities. Roxy wanted the fuck OUT.
After what seemed to be a few solid minutes of flying as a spirit, she emerged onto land and switched off her power. I'm back, oh my god, I'm back, I'm back! Thankful, she clutched the ground and pressed her face into the grass. Just seeing the sun was enough to make her laugh. "Holy shit... holy fucking shit..."
She started on her way back home, trying to formulate the story in her head. Roxy had considered keeping it private, but that didn't feel right. A Rogue passed things around, stole from the rich and gave to the poor. It only seemed fitting that the Rogue of Void should pass around her secrets, tell her story.
I hope they didn't miss me.
[aaaargh at the end i ran out of muse but oh well
word count: 1854 !!!!]
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