Poppy Reynolds grew up in Marietta, Georgia, a town that while quaint, never truly had her heart. She always considered herself to be a proud American, but there were many Southern standards and ideals that she never found herself fitting in with. As a southern woman, who also happened to be a gun-fearing vegetarian, she was the butt of many jokes growing up.
Poppy's childhood was far from perfect, despite her sunny disposition. Her father died from a very young age, too long ago that the only memories she holds are those of photographs hanging on the walls. A drunk-driving accident made her mother a widow, and it was something Poppy say effect her mother as she was growing up. It wasn't until Poppy was around five years old that her mother started dating again -- and dating losers. There was abuse... abuse that Poppy was too young to really comprehend. It was well hidden, at first. The young red-head would only catch glimpses; her mother with her head in her hands, crying... or an unexplained bruise that she would pass off on her "clumsiness". There was a darkness in their household that Poppy was both attune to, and blissfully unaware. Her young mind blamed the atmosphere on the monster hiding in her closet; a dark entity that she blamed as the reason she would wet the bed. Therapists in her later life would tell her all of those signs were pointing towards a fear of a monster, yes -- but it was the monster in her mother's room, and not Poppy's.
He never hit Poppy, never found an interest in her at all, in truth. He spent most of his days avoiding eye contact, and shirking all kids of responsibility that being a step-father might come with. In hindsight, it was the best thing he could have done for her -- the man was completely and utterly toxic. A truth Poppy would learn to be all too true.
There was a night a year into their relationship, that her step-father was completely on edge about. Poppy's mother and him had been fighting all night, for a reason still unknown to this day. Poppy was told to go to her room, and her colouring book had taken priority over the possibility of eavesdropping on the conversation. The minutes to follow are burned into her brain and are likely to remain for the rest of her life.
Blue crayon. Red crayon. Draw in the lines. Flowers. Green crayon. Grass. Red crayon. Fox. Bang. Crash. Bang. Door. Stairs. Kitchen. Mom. Red crayon. Blood.
It was a flurry of colours, mixed with an absolutely blackness. He wasn't at large for long, no. The neighbors heard the shots ring out and called the authorities quickly. Her vision was only filled with more colour; red and blue, flashing through her window and playing shapes against their yellow walls. She stayed there with her mom, clothes soaked red as she sat, knowing something was wrong, but not truly knowing what to do to help. Blue uniforms came through the door, they pulled her away from her mom and there were tears, and frightened sobs. A blanket wrapped around her. Blue. There was a lady talking to her, using words and asking questions that were hard to understand. Their conversation isn't something that Poppy came to remember, it was likely dull for her six year-old self... but it is a conversation that adult Poppy would have loved to remember.
More colours greeted her. A yellow sweater as her grandmother rushed towards her; she smelled of purple. Flowers. A strong hand rested on her hand, green eyes looked up to meet her grandfather. After having worked in the field and with the cattle, there was an overwhelming sense of brown from him. Nonetheless, it was a comfort then and now.
Her step-father was found fairly quickly, and justly thrown into jail for the crime. Poppy spent the rest of her life growing and learning from her loving grandparents -- a childhood that she grew up to cherish despite the hardship that came beforehand. As her memories faded of her mother, the feelings never did -- her pictures hung on the wall along with her father's. They were both parts of her past that she was too young to remember, but there are feelings there that she continues to carry with her.
Poppy grew up into a fairly well-adjusted woman, and a woman who spent her time volunteering and striving to change things for the better. It was an altruism that lead her to Chernarus -- a country she was told that was decimating its forests with logging and deforestation. Poppy made the decision to travel abroad as one final trip before pursuing a higher education. It was meant to be a trip for her to do some good and spend some time at home with nature, and it turned on her in the worst of ways.
Pisces: Positive traits include; imaginative, sensitive, compassionate, selfless, intuitive, compassionate. Negative traits include; escapist, idealistic, secretive, vague, weak-willed, naive.
Personality: Poppy is forever an optimist. She believes the best in people, and it has a tendency to get her in trouble. She is unwavering when she feels strongly that something is right, and is stubborn to a fault when her beliefs are in question. Often greeting strangers with kindness puts a target on her back for unsavory characters who wish to harm others. She'd gladly give you the shirt off her back if you said you were cold.
Lore: Herbivore, Stories from Poppy Reynolds