#roxychat

The desert sun is already climbing, stretching long and mean across the parking lot of the state prison. It's quiet out here, except for the distant hum of traffic and the occasional clang of metal from the gates. Roxy's perched against Felix's bike like she owns it, arms crossed, leg kicked out, waiting. She's not impatient. Well, she is. But... she's missed him. And that's not the kind of thing she says out loud. Wouldn't say it now, even if she was tied to a chair with a gun to her head. (which sounds like a better time than all this fucking WAITING)

Her fingers drum against her arm, body humming with the anticipation of something that's been missing for too fucking long. Two months wasn't long, not really, not in the grand scheme of things. But things got too quiet, making her pick fights just to burn through whatever energy had nowhere else to go. She knows she's smirking before she even sees him, the flicker of something sharp and wicked sparking in her chest. And when the doors open, when she finally lays eyes on him, all tall and tattooed and serious as ever, that something sharp just snaps into place.

-

Roxy isn't sure what the protocol is when it comes to vampire vs wolf training sessions, but she also doesn't care. She interrupts a small group of blood-slurpers, pointing out the largest one as her opponent. It's a short lived match, as years worth of anger can erupt from Roxy in seconds especially against a vampire. She lets all the memories of her lost pack members release to the forefront of her mind, the blame she carries for their deaths. The years that followed of feeling lost in her own pack because of it. All of it is unleashed against the vampire, the fight ending in a spectacular display of her over it's listless body. She leans up to swipe her own blood from her face, smearing it into her hair as she spots a certain wolf who joined the others in watching. "Hunter!" Roxy greets him a smile, perking up as if it's a crisp and easy Sunday morning. She moves from the vampire, beginning to roll the giant towards the edge of the ring. "He said he knew you. What's that about? You being a good lil pup and making friends with our neighbors? That doesn't sound like you." she asks and teases all at once, waving for Hunter to join her. "Uppies. Your turn." she offers him a hand that she knows he doesn't need into the ring.

-

"Oh- hey, sunrise eyes." Roxy beams to the sight of Isla by a truck, and she changes the course of her direction so she can approach. She takes a nosy look into the bed, all stocked up and ready to go. Roxy, of course, grins as she then looks to Isla slowly. "This looks like more than just a little trip out. Are you and your big boy eloping?" she spins so she can lean against the truck, grin remaining over her lips. "Don't worry, I won't tell. It can be our secret, won't be the first. Probably not the last." she finds deep amusement in her own words but there's no laughter. As sweet and endearing as Isla is, she isn't the Alvarez that Roxy prefers. Without admitting it to a soul, the Rose's eyes scanned desperately over the registration names after Isla's arrival. But, came to learn that Amaris wasn't with her. "When did you both get split?" Roxy's demeanor shifts to an uncharacteristic concern. Subtle before the grin is back. "You probably wouldn't want me to come and help look, huh? The three of us."

-

"You better make this quick, Hunter Cross. I need a cat nap before my next shift." Roxy announces while the distance closes between the two wolves and the cabin. She can guess why he's stopping by, more than likely to do with her father and brother instead of herself which is just fine. Not exactly anything new. She's already working off her belt in the broad daylight, eager to wash of the hours she's spent holed up in a fucking tree as if there's nothing better to do. But, Roxanna pushes her way onto the cabin steps before Hunter can, turning to face him as she slinks backwards. "Sorry to say but your favorite boys are out and bonding over how amazing they think each other are. You know how it goes." she cracks the loose belt in her hand against his legs in a whip, laughing. "Unless you want to play but, I have specific rules. I don't want to end up like those two sad mothers you're towing around because everyone's too stupid to find a pack of condoms."

-

"This doesn't mean you're right, by the way." Roxy breaks their hours worth of silence when a clearing grants them sight to a collapsed watch tower. The silence was a natural way of ending their constant bickering for the entire journey. Dominic's map-reading abilities were abysmal but he didn't seem to think so, and Roxy was sick of hearing a few more miles. Even after their truck was left behind them, the miles seemed never ending on the treacherous roads in search of the abandoned safe town. But, the collapsed watch tower means they're finally closer than they once were. "We're finding a truck here and driving it back to the other truck. I am not walking all of that again." Roxy tells her brother, pushing around him with a stern gaze as she picks up her pace. "And this is the last time you're reading the map." her tone sounds as if she's done, but Roxy is never quite done. "How the hell are you a seeker!? You have to actually seek. Not hike. Or you'd be called hiker. And we both know that's a really dumb sounding role."

The wilted rose emoji used to mean shit's gone sideways. Now it just means get in, loser. It was sacred once, reserved for emergencies only. The kind of emergencies only blood could clean up. But these days, Roxy texts it when she needs a ride. Cassidy texts it when she's craving lo mein. Dom sends it for literally no reason. He used it before bed last week. Woke up to thirty missed calls and Roxy and Cassidy halfway through climbing in his window like a pair of cursed raccoons.

So when it buzzes onto her screen from her mom this time, Roxy doesn't leap into action. She snorts, locks her phone and goes right back to throwing knives at James Corden's face. She's already put three blades through his smug smile and the fourth one's incoming. THWACK. Right between the eyes. It's not long until she hears the engine next. That unholy KR-R-RRRRTTT that rattles like someone jammed a wrench inside a soda can. Only one car sounds like that. Roxy grins, moving to the window and squints through the glare to the sight of her mother, ready and waiting.

There's a whole conversation that happens without a single word when they step out of the trucks. Just eye contact, tension, and the weird fucking vibe crawling up the back of her neck. Roxy clocks it instantly. The way the locals start herding them off in different directions like it's casual. It's not. She's already on edge. Already pissed off. Mainly because Theo and Charlie shut down the Sedona plan with one goddamn look. Like they're mom and dad. Cute. Gross. She hopes they go fuck themselves, fuck each other and then get married and have quiet, morally upstanding babies.

Anyway. Focus.

She's locked in now, zeroed in on these fucking brothers. One of them looks like he's been crying since birth. Pale and hollowed out like some haunted Victorian doll that didn't get hugged enough. She narrows her eyes at him. He's not the kind of haunted she likes. Felix-haunted is hot. This guy's got seasonal depression ghost energy. Like if you said "boo' too loud he'll crumble into salt. She doesn't bother hiding the disgust on her face. Just lets it sit there as they talk about Bouse like this is a normal town and not the freakshow of the century.

"Okay, I hear a lot of talking, Blue Eyes. A lot of talking about nothing." she cuts in, sharp and abrupt, eyes locked on the glassy eyed one. Her tone's sweet but her smile isn't. "What the fuck did you say your name is, again?" she swings her barbed wire bat at him with a lazy gesture, like naming suspects in a lineup. Her eyes cut a glance at Chrissy. Then to the other brother. Then back. Roxy tilts her head, grin spreading like she's found her new favorite toy to break. "Are you being held hostage or something?" her eyes flick around the edges of the town. Derelict, dead.

Everything smells like old blood, bleach, and bullshit. Roxy twirls a knife between her fingers like it's a fidget toy, barely paying attention to a werewolf arguing with a witch. Something about perimeter patrols. Blah blah blah. She zones out around "team work." That's usually when she starts thinking about fire. Or stabbing. Three weeks and everyone's acting like things are are buildable. Like the base isn't held together by duct tape, unresolved trauma, and war lunchables, as she calls them. Boomie wouldn't sit still for this kind of place. She'd be climbing the walls. Literally. Roxy misses the chaos. She misses the sound of her tiny goblin child screaming because she was told "no" and decided that meant war.