a constellation of tears on your lashes / open

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    [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;]ic; "Kanaya?"


    The word came out as a pained whimper. There was no way this was happening, no *ING way. You feel your chest squeeze. You wish you couldn't comprehend what you saw. Her misshapen corpse. Her asymmetrical set of horns, charred and cracked. You want your breathing to stop, too, so you can fall down dead next to your lover. Or, rather, her ashes. She was blown to bits, to put it bluntly. A flume of fire and she was gone. Her regeneration surely couldn't handle piecing together a body made of gray ash and blood soaked in the soil.


    Her jade green blood. It's everywhere. On everyone. Your fur is sticky with it, your face coated. It mixes in with your tears. You feel despair and defeat crawl its way into your head, only to be overtaken by the swarm of anger that followed. You've felt this way before, had physical pain in your heart from the deaths of those closest to you. But never her. It was impossible, she was strong, fast, it [i]couldn't have been her, it was horse* to think about, never her, not your dear, loving, dorky girlfriend-


    "Kanaya!"


    This time, your voice is more powerful, louder, a growl, a snarl. You wield your needles tightly, twisting towards her murderer. They're going to pay, just like your mother's murderer did.[/i]


    "Kan-...Kanaya!"


    Roxy shot up, pressing a paw to her forehead, acutely aware of the sharp pain just behind her eyelids. "Aargh- *, that hurts, holy *-" she muttered, letting loose a string of swears underneath her breath as she staggered to her feet. Her dream was lost in the static; she remembered nothing from her sleep, not even what she spoke when she woke up. Maybe that was for the best. Lalonde slowly made her way towards the main camp, squinting against the harsh light.


    "Who the hell- ...oh. Uh, *. Anyone seen Jasper? They know * about healing and that *in' good nonsense, right? I, uh, have a headache." It... sounded really *ing lame saying it aloud, but hell, it hurt.


    "...And it's NOT a hangover, Ryan," she added on as an afterthought, just in case the leader was around. Hangovers felt different; she would know. They made her body sluggish, her mind foggy, and her spit taste like throw up. This was just a strain behind the eyes, so it was different.


    [s]and the plot thickens[/fancypost]
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    [fancypost bordercolor=transparent; width: 400px][justify]"Seen Jasper? Why no, I've never heard the name," He cooed quietly, his husky voice teasing while all the while rooted with concern. He could mock members all he wanted, but it was not a matter to toy with too much. Healing, that is.


    He rounded the corner of her chambers, the bellows in which she dwelled. Funny, he had never come across her here. Perhaps it was mere coincidence, but he liked to think the Chief-to-be was actively on her toes and dutiful about the clan. The ashen bullet didn't waste anymore time thinking about this, though, as he scampered over to the afflicted with a disturbed scowl. If it weren't a hangover and it was throbbing more than she could handle, what had happened? Surely, headaches could come from the void or beyond and didn't necessarily require a reason, but her uncanny state and gait troubled the herbalist. He would not comment publicly, however.


    There was no real need for him, honestly. Anyone could prescribe a few seeds here and there. Hell, they were scattered through out the territory and the most common remedy! But Jasper kept these facts to himself, and slowly slid the bundled poppy seeds in her direction."Easy fix. Take a couple of these and hydrate. You could be.." He gave her a pointed glare with his hard, amber visionaries. He knew better than to assume it was just the average pain. The deputy could endure that undoubtedly, and by the looks of it, a nightmare must have wrung her deep, "Dehydrated. Fall's only just begun and it's still rather hot. Just.. rest."

    [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;]ic; "Yeah, I wonder where he could be- maybe buried under the fuckton of other patients and shit, yelling for some healing wizardry. I can hear it now- 'Help me, I've gotten a stick rammed up my ass and I'm not sure what to do, also, my leg fell off, and I'm a chronic narcissist, got a cure?'" Roxy spoke in fast tones, her speech overlapping at times, only slightly louder than a mutter. She was grinning through her pain, however.


    Blinking, the deputy followed Jasper as he worked his magic, noting her remedy: poppy seeds. Right. God, she was stupid. She shook her head at herself and lightly bopped herself on the nose. Not a great way to start the day; if only there were a box of nutritious, delicious, children's-brand cereal to help start her day the wholesome way.


    Roxy took the seeds and swallowed, murmuring, "Hey, um, thanks. Hydrate? Sure thing! Yeah, yeah." He was looking at her sorta funny. Did he think it was a hangover? Her breath didn't smell like booze, her gait was fine- it was just her head. Like a stick jammed the cogs in her mind, or something wasn't oiled correctly. It was grinding away at itself. "Um, heh, really, thanks though. I'm good to go once it's gone, yeah?"[/fancypost]
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