<div style="
--bg: white;
--border: #ddd;
--accent: #9e17ad;
--body: #000;
--heading: #fff;

--body-font: Poppins;
--subheading-font: Montserrat;

--img1: url(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/fb/22/a4/fb22a4f783926885d12dc66c58a519f7.jpg);

background: var(--bg); color: var(--body); font-smoothing: antialiased; -webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; font-size: 11px; font-family: var(--body-font); max-width: 700px; margin: auto; padding: 10px; border: 1px solid var(--border); display: flex; flex-direction: row; flex-wrap: wrap;"><div style=" margin: 10px; width: 240px; background: var(--bg); flex-grow: 1;"><div style=" height: 300px; background: var(--img1); background-size: cover; background-position: 50% 0%;"><div style=" padding-top: 260px; text-align: center; font-family: var(--subheading-font); font-size: 16px; text-transform: uppercase; letter-spacing: 3px; color: var(--heading);


/*character role / tagline*/">the escort</div></div><div style="


/*this marks the beginning of the character details*/

margin-top: 20px; box-sizing: border-box; width: 100%; height: 140px; overflow: hidden;"><div style=" height: 100%; width: 200%; overflow-y: auto;"><div style=" height: auto; text-align: justify; width: 50%; box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 20px;"><div style=" display: flex; flex-direction: row; border-bottom: 1px dashed var(--border); padding-bottom: 10px;"><div style=" background: var(--bg); font-family: var(--subheading-font); color: var(--accent); text-transform: uppercase; display: flex; flex-direction: column; justify-content: space-evenly; font-weight: bold;">location</div><div style=" text-align: right; width: 100%; display: flex; flex-direction: column; justify-content: space-evenly; margin-left: 10px;


/*character location*/">crime scene</div></div><div style="margin-top: 20px; padding: 0px; display: flex; flex-direction: row; border-bottom: 1px dashed var(--border); padding-bottom: 10px;"><div style=" background: var(--bg); font-family: var(--subheading-font); color: var(--accent); text-transform: uppercase; display: flex; flex-direction: column; justify-content: space-evenly; font-weight: bold;">mood</div><div style=" text-align: right; width: 100%; display: flex; flex-direction: column; justify-content: space-evenly; margin-left: 10px;


/*character mood*/">shocked</div></div><div style=" margin-top: 20px; padding: 0px; display: flex; flex-direction: row; border-bottom: 1px dashed var(--border); padding-bottom: 10px;"><div style=" background: var(--bg); font-family: var(--subheading-font); color: var(--accent); text-transform: uppercase; display: flex; flex-direction: column; justify-content: space-evenly; font-weight: bold;">outfit</div><div style=" text-align: right; width: 100%; display: flex; flex-direction: column; justify-content: space-evenly; margin-left: 10px;


/*character outfit*/">click!</div></div><div style=" margin-top: 20px; padding: 0px; display: flex; flex-direction: row; border-bottom: 1px dashed var(--border); padding-bottom: 10px;"><div style=" background: var(--bg); font-family: var(--subheading-font); color: var(--accent); text-transform: uppercase; display: flex; flex-direction: column; justify-content: space-evenly; font-weight: bold;">mentions</div><div style=" text-align: right; width: 100%; display: flex; flex-direction: column; justify-content: space-evenly; margin-left: 10px;


/*mentions / interactions*/">open</div></div></div></div></div></div><br/>
<div style=" margin: 10px; width: 390px; background: var(--bg); flex-grow: 1;"><div style=" height: 40px; display: flex; flex-direction: row;"><div style=" min-width: 40px; height: 40px; text-align: center; background: var(--accent); color: #fff; display: flex; flex-direction: column; justify-content: space-evenly; font-size: 20px; margin-right: 20px;


/*you can change this icon by googling different font awesome icons!*/"><i class="fal fa-wine-glass"></i></div><div style=" height: 40px; width: 100%; text-align: right; font-family: var(--subheading-font); letter-spacing: 2px; font-size: 20px; box-sizing: border-box; padding: 5px 10px; display: flex; flex-direction: column; justify-content: space-evenly; background: var(--accent); color: #fff; text-transform: uppercase;


/*character name*/">Roxie St.Clair</div></div><div style=" margin-top: 20px; box-sizing: border-box; width: 100%; height: 400px; overflow: hidden;"><div style=" height: 100%; width: 200%; overflow-y: auto;"><div style=" height: auto; width: 50%; text-align: justify; box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 20px;


/*your main ic content!*/"><br/>
Sun touched her eyelids and Roxie felt the rays trying to force her eyes open but she stubbornly insisted on remaining asleep. Just a little longer. Five more minutes. Not just yet. Sleep was good, sleep was when Roxie didn’t have to face the reality of gray days and what she had become. A prom queen gone wrong. The path she was walking was no longer encrusted in diamonds and tiaras but instead, there was fairy dust snowing on the dirt road and bourbon raining down on her, soaking into her skin, becoming her signature perfume.<br/>
<br/>
But while she slept, nothing of that was true, she could still be who she used to be, she could be anyone else and pretend her life hadn’t gone awfully off the road. In those moments, she didn’t have to face men with whiskey on their breath and calloused hands touching her smooth skin, peeling off the skimpy underwear she wore for them. They never deserved that, she was too good for people like them, those damn birds of prey who waited for her in their motel rooms, sleazy and perverted, knowing anything went if the prize was right. Roxie was a woman of many faces and she wore them all so well that there were only very few who knew which one was the real Roxie St.Clair.<br/>
<br/>
Her head was pounding and that was what eventually had her stirring in her position. She was somewhere between sleep and being awake but then the migraine drilled her temples so hard that Roxie groaned and slowly, very slowly, sat up, pressing heels of her hands on her eyes. Last night’s makeup was caked on her face now, making her look more like a broken porcelain doll than a desirable company and Roxie was well aware. Her eyeliner was now melted around her eyes making her look like a tired panda bear and tasting the ashtray in her mouth made her gag. This had to be some wild party she agreed to work. Although she was still wearing her dress so was she really working here? Or was this just a place where someone brought her after? But why would they bother with putting her clothes back on? No one ever did, not even Roxie… Something really was fishy here and the whole place smelled and looked like a dump.<br/>
<br/>
Voices echoed somewhere around and with her head dizzy and still more asleep than awake, Roxie was vaguely aware of the direction they were coming from. Her feet hit the ground, feet bare and her heels nowhere to be seen. She used the bed to push herself up and fought the nasty wave of nausea tearing through her. Blinking her sleepiness away for a moment, she looked around and took in her surroundings only to be hit by a quick trip down the memory lane. Blood on the ground, red streaks staining the floor and soaking into a carpet, a sharp contrast of ruby red with the polished white of her parents’ house… The only thing missing from that picture being that polished white. Roxie stared at the blood and gulped, wondering where it was coming from. Her gaze immediately flicked to the three scars on her left forearm, a forever reminder of her brain short-circuiting.<br/>
<br/>
Her body hurt but it was more because of the way she lived and not because she was hurt so after assuming the blood wasn’t hers, her feet carried her towards voices, bare feet patting softly on her floor. Her fingers ran through tresses of chocolate brown locks, pushing them out of her face. Silhouettes of people appeared in front of her, a close-knit group huddled around something. Someone. It sure seemed she was the last one to join this little after party. And soon, she found out who all that blood belonged to.<br/>
<br/>
Seeing her former babysitter lying in a puddle of her own blood, a gaping hole opening her throat like a hungry monster, Roxie felt reality sink in. It terrified her that she was not terrified. Her eyes scanned the room, people present at this grotesque crime scene. Truly a band of misfits if she ever saw one. Her mind was able to recognize some of them from before, from last night, hazy memories offering a slideshow of what happened but nothing too clear. “Well…fuck.” she breathed and rubbed her face hard with both hands, leaving the palms cupping her chin while the fingertips pressed on her temples, trying to temper the ever growing migraine. Katie. It was Katie. Dead. Lying there. Bloody and very much…dead.<br/>
<br/>
“Which one of you geniuses fuck up?” she asked in a very matter-of-fact way, her emotions clouded and suppressed, unable to claw their way out of the depth at this point.<br/>
<br/>
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<div class="bbCodeBlock-content">Sun touched her eyelids and Roxie felt the rays trying to force her eyes open but she stubbornly insisted on remaining asleep. Just a little longer. Five more minutes. Not just yet. Sleep was good, sleep was when Roxie didn’t have to face the reality of gray days and what she had become. A prom queen gone wrong. The path she was walking was no longer encrusted in diamonds and tiaras but instead, there was fairy dust snowing on the dirt road and bourbon raining down on her, soaking into her skin, becoming her signature perfume.<br/>
<br/>
But while she slept, nothing of that was true, she could still be who she used to be, she could be anyone else and pretend her life hadn’t gone awfully off the road. In those moments, she didn’t have to face men with whiskey on their breath and calloused hands touching her smooth skin, peeling off the skimpy underwear she wore for them. They never deserved that, she was too good for people like them, those damn birds of prey who waited for her in their motel rooms, sleazy and perverted, knowing anything went if the prize was right. Roxie was a woman of many faces and she wore them all so well that there were only very few who knew which one was the real Roxie St.Clair.<br/>
<br/>
Her head was pounding and that was what eventually had her stirring in her position. She was somewhere between sleep and being awake but then the migraine drilled her temples so hard that Roxie groaned and slowly, very slowly, sat up, pressing heels of her hands on her eyes. Last night’s makeup was caked on her face now, making her look more like a broken porcelain doll than a desirable company and Roxie was well aware. Her eyeliner was now melted around her eyes making her look like a tired panda bear and tasting the ashtray in her mouth made her gag. This had to be some wild party she agreed to work. Although she was still wearing her dress so was she really working here? Or was this just a place where someone brought her after? But why would they bother with putting her clothes back on? No one ever did, not even Roxie… Something really was fishy here and the whole place smelled and looked like a dump.<br/>
<br/>
Voices echoed somewhere around and with her head dizzy and still more asleep than awake, Roxie was vaguely aware of the direction they were coming from. Her feet hit the ground, feet bare and her heels nowhere to be seen. She used the bed to push herself up and fought the nasty wave of nausea tearing through her. Blinking her sleepiness away for a moment, she looked around and took in her surroundings only to be hit by a quick trip down the memory lane. Blood on the ground, red streaks staining the floor and soaking into a carpet, a sharp contrast of ruby red with the polished white of her parents’ house… The only thing missing from that picture being that polished white. Roxie stared at the blood and gulped, wondering where it was coming from. Her gaze immediately flicked to the three scars on her left forearm, a forever reminder of her brain short-circuiting.<br/>
<br/>
Her body hurt but it was more because of the way she lived and not because she was hurt so after assuming the blood wasn’t hers, her feet carried her towards voices, bare feet patting softly on her floor. Her fingers ran through tresses of chocolate brown locks, pushing them out of her face. Silhouettes of people appeared in front of her, a close-knit group huddled around something. Someone. It sure seemed she was the last one to join this little after party. And soon, she found out who all that blood belonged to.<br/>
<br/>
Seeing her former babysitter lying in a puddle of her own blood, a gaping hole opening her throat like a hungry monster, Roxie felt reality sink in. It terrified her that she was not terrified. Her eyes scanned the room, people present at this grotesque crime scene. Truly a band of misfits if she ever saw one. Her mind was able to recognize some of them from before, from last night, hazy memories offering a slideshow of what happened but nothing too clear. “Well…fuck.” she breathed and rubbed her face hard with both hands, leaving the palms cupping her chin while the fingertips pressed on her temples, trying to temper the ever growing migraine. Katie. It was Katie. Dead. Lying there. Bloody and very much…dead.<br/>
<br/>
“Which one of you geniuses fuck up?” she asked in a very matter-of-fact way, her emotions clouded and suppressed, unable to claw their way out of the depth at this point.</div>
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