our hearts are too ruthless to break / 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; Her headaches persisted from her first time visiting Jasper for a quick remedy. A constant thrum of pain battered just behind her eyelids and forehead, effectively incapacitating Roxy for much of the day. Curled up in her den was her petite form, her god tier hood pulled tightly over her eyes. Jasper's poppy hadn't helped; if anything, it made her malady worse.


    Everything was so hazy. Despite nobody having entered her den for several hours now, Roxy swore she saw shadows and bodies, moving and fighting. Sounds of yelling and chaos echoed within her skull, shouts of names she didn't recognize. Flashes of faces that seemed so familiar, yet murky and uncertain. Streaks of red, gold, green. Some had horns, some were winged, and a few seemed to have god tier outfits, if her vision didn't betray her.


    Sometimes it would change. She'd watch a more peaceful setting: a sunset streaked with pink and red, two silhouettes hugging each other before it; glimpses of a cozy den, adorned with fabric and literature; a pile of soft, purple and jade scarves. Other times it would be heartbreak: a bloodied figure laying on the ground, riddled with bullet holes; a flare of fire, engulfing a poor figure; glimpses of self-harm or otherwise. It all was foggy, though, like a dream where she couldn't quite pinpoint what was real or fake. Everything was blurred like a three year old had gotten access to photoshop and created the shittiest imagery possible.


    "Ryan? Gaaaavin? Mi-...Michael? Jassssper?" she slurred quietly, clutching her head. "Anyone... anyone got poppy?"[/fancypost]
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    [align=center][fancypost borderwidth=0px; cursor: url(http://i.imgur.com/AqDM4Er.png), auto][justify][size=8]Never before had Ryan had the problem of delusions, be then auditory, visual, or just all around encompassing all of his senses. The oddest sort of experiences Ryan had with that were dreams, but considering how they were an integral part of the natural world, they were hardly something that Ryan battled an eyelash at anymore. Due to his lack of exposure with such things, Ryan had never before considered that his Clanmates or really any other being had a problem with them before. He knew of their existence, but he never figured they'd be as close to home, both figuratively and literally speaking. Hearing his name called in an almost painful manner amongst other names, Ryan's eyebrow was raised high as he turned toward the source of the noise, which he was almost positive was Roxy. Slipping into her den quietly, Ryan raised his maw to sniff at the air a bit and make sure she was alright. Everything seemed pretty normal, just that Roxy didn't exactly sound alright. "You called?" Ryan inquired as his river-blue eyes flickered over the resting form of Roxy, not catching her words about the poppy before making an entrance. "You feeling okay?" Shit, he hadn't seen Roxy that sick in a while: since she had drank that rubbing alcohol, in fact.


    [hr][align=center]RYAN HAYWOOD * CHIEF * [abbr=medium difficulty, fights with throwing knives - ability to manipulate memories - no kill/capture without permission - assisted by pet triceratops POINTY]BATTLE INFO[/abbr] * BIOGRAPHY
    [color=transparent] #givemeyourmilk [/fancypost]

    Gavin ran to Roxy's den when he heard his name slurred out of the female's mouth. If you counted the Horror terrors whispering in his ears, then Gavin knew what it was like to have hallucinations, and to have said hallucinations control your life. It was hell. If Gavin hadn't ben insane from grimdark, well he would have been drivn there within the day. He heard Roxy's request for some poppy and went and brought back Sitrium. He trusted the former healer with his life, having known her since he first decided to live with a clan. So he trusted her to help Roxy out.
    "Roxy, I brought Sitrium, she can help you." He said softly.

    [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; It took her too long to see that her den was no longer alone. Roxy lifted her head gingerly at the noise. Her gaze pointed at Ryan but it was obvious she saw right past him, oblivious to his presence. Only when Michael entered, too, did Roxy manage to shake herself out of her visions. "I-... oh, hey," she faintly whispered. "Y...Yeah. Just need, um. Poppy. My... head." She made a feeble motion towards her forehead with her paw.


    "Hi... Gavin? Is that- that's you... um, right? Shit. Could I... have it? The... poppy?" She spoke slowly, struggling to articulate every syllable over the thrum of her thoughts. Chaos. Bleeding, fighting, screaming, mourning- it was difficult to think over and exceedingly strenuous to try and mask. Her facade wasn't working. How could it? Merely talking sapped up some precious energy.[/fancypost]
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