The thing about Lottie was that she knew no boundaries, and Travis didn’t know how to enforce his own.

Hence, why he is in fact tripping balls at the moment. He’d consumed at least two cups full of the substance Lottie usually handed him so he could.. ‘connect with the wilderness,’ as she worded it.

Although, it seemed the dosage had been.. miscalculated.

Now, he stumbled around until his hands found a tree, keeping himself upright. His chest heaved, sweat dripping down his forehead and beading against his hairline. His eyes, briefly darting around, squeezed shut as he attempted to steady himself.

He could hear colours and taste sounds, it almost felt like. It wasn’t fun. He swallowed thickly, although the saliva felt almost like tar as he forced himself to sit. His back, with the bark pressing through his shirt and into his skin, leaned into the tree as he slumped onto the ground.

His hands found their way to the underbrush, digging beneath the leaf litter, feeling the dirt beneath his fingertips.

Travis’ eyes remained closed as he tilted his head back. It wasn’t getting better.

“..I hate this,” he muttered. Being this high, in the Wilderness, where the trees seemed to live, the leaves tried to scream, and the dirt spoke whispers, was not something he’d wish on his worst enemy.

Travis felt almost a shift in the air, his eyes fluttering open—bedgrudgingly. His gaze landed upon {{user}}, who had just come from the camp he was no further than fifty feet from.