[PT-PP-F28] Bad Luck Blues

[Mari 1]

Clink

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Two bottles of Sullivans Cove clattered loudly together as Mari held them in one hand - she was rounding the outside of Glyndbourne. Her hair is slightly damp from the atrocities of the floor above. One of the drawbacks of the ever looming orange crystal above her forehead - nothing was ever easy. Except stealing from a floor void of safe zones. That was easy. It didn't seem to bother her, nor her spirits. Cerulean eyes bright, no longer marred by dark circles. Her hair well kempt, clothes..right down to her fishnet stockings were neat and laundered. The woman had a satchel at her side, and a finger-less glove covering her right hand. She walked with purpose and confidence.
 

Some probably wouldn’t appreciate Mari pilfering items from others; but at some point one simply didn’t have a choice and she doubted whatever lovecraftian beast that owned it above, would care.

The woman was in a good mood. Her house had been upgraded, her Gemini defeated, somehow engaged - There was a pause in her step at that, as Mari bought her left hand up to look at the makeshift ring on her finger. Silver, with dashes of red - so typically Lancaster. It looked as though a blind man had forged it, but Mari loved it all the same. A symbol of childish dreams built on hope that would inevitably crash and burn. Their fantasy may not last... but for now - things were good…she was happy. Mari was seeing Freyd tomorrow. Finally showing him all the work she had put into rebuilding herself, and her home. if there were ever a time where Mari could be completely fulfilled, now came pretty damn close to it.
 

“HEY! STOP!” 

Mari grimaced. She knew that voice. A glance over her shoulder confirmed it. Atticus. A man dressed in chainmail - the front chest plate adorned with what could only be described as ‘clipart’ of a sword within a sun. “What?” Good mood ruined.

Atticus was two heads taller than her, long blonde hair that sat at his waist - half of it up in…yup…it was still up in a man bun. Someone should really tell him it looked bad.

“That’s a bad hairstyle, yanno.”

A hand shifted to the pommel of his sword. “Mari.” He greeted her tersely.

“Atticus.” Mari returned the greeting with one of her own. “Didn’t I ask you a lot to leave me alone? Didn’t I say I had nothing to do with anything?”

 

“Four times.” He said, taking a glance to her gloved hand then a cautionary step back. “Once would be a coincidence, but four Mari?”

Mari furrowed her brow, the hell was this man on about? Granted - they were investigating her…her fiance now. But, they didn’t know that. Each happenstance they ran into each other truly was a coincidence - the man was right though - four turned it into a pattern.

“Can’t say I know what you’re talkin’ about.” Mari said with a shrug as she turned to walk away. The sound of metal being drawn and the pinprick of cold steel against the nape of her neck. “We, the order of the sword and sun are going to bring you in.”
 

We?

As if on cue two others appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, ah. The vanishing skill. Three swords, all now pointed at her neck. But that’s where the mistake was. They were too close. Too close to each other, and to her to be able to do much damage at all.

“Credit where credit is due, the vanish was a smart play, but you’re all too close.”

 

Mari dropped the bottles of whiskey which clattered against each other then to the floor as she ducked. A flick of her wrist would expose the garrote wire - and as she flung it in front of her it wrapped itself around ‘Andrew’ the bald brash man with a handlebar moustache. His legs were forced together and before he could fall forward into Mari she kicked him square in the chest sending him flying back.

One down
 

A hand shifted to move into her satchel to disarm another - but it was pierced by atticus. Causing Mari to drop the small tranquilizer into the grass. “Fuck.” She hissed.

Andrew writhed on the ground behind her, his clumsy fingers desperately trying to undo the thin wire that bound his legs. “We know your tricks killer.” He hissed at her.

“Ben! Grab it!” The moussy skittish man took three steps back, his eyes shifting to the dropped item then to Mari, who was currently ripping Atticus’ sword out her arm with her bare hand. “Y-You promised we wouldn’t actually hurt her.”

Atticus turned to Ben. “Benjamin! Don’t- URgh.” Atticus faltered, having had one of the bottles of whiskey smashed over his head. He slumped to his knees, then fell flat on his face. Unconscious.

“What  a waste…” Mari mumbled. What little damage that had been done to her had already recovered as her battle healing ticked over.

“Ben.” Mari said to the man who jumped at his name.

“Im warning you. This is your last chance. Leave me alone. All of you.” Mari bent down to pick up the last remaining bottle of whiskey, and in doing so - for good measure stomped her foot down on the syringe breaking it. “I would never kill you. I think this encounter should prove that. But I can’t say the same for others if you keep doing this.”

 

Non Combat;
Mari |True Tier 12|  HP: 980/980 | EN: 136/136 | DMG: 21 | MIT:44 | ACC:4 | AA  | EVA:4 | BH:54 | BLI: 32/-20  | ENV-O: 32 | PARA-V | LD:1                                                                                                                            

Edited August 5 by Mari

[Alkor 0]

The glade where He'd been felled had all but mended.

Toxic ichor bleeding through from above had dried up, but the gnarled and withered corpses of trees stood silent testament to the poison's more lasting effects. Slaying the infected beast had been one of the few kindnesses that the Players had truly done for the world. There was no hidden circumstance that ruined lives, nothing more than a fleeting memory of something abhorrent, something that if they had failed to put an end to, would have ran rampant. The silence that permeated this space was an unfillable void, a mirror of the stifling, choking questions that Alkor sought answers for. In the same way it brought peace, it ravaged the mind. He placed his fingers absently on one of the knotted, blackened trees, but felt no warmth. The ashes had grown cold, devoid of life or meaning. 

He let out a quiet breath, unintelligible words, and turned to leave the grove unmolested. These memories belonged to him, but they were not his alone. He would not sully them by moving them, breaking them, or trying to fix something that had been broken. Sometimes, the most beautiful way a thing could exist... was just as it was.

Alkor had learned that lesson trying to conform to a hundred shapes. To stretch and mold himself to fit various roles, relationships, jobs- and none of them, in the end, were the answer to the riddle that plagued him. 

As he stalked from the boss room back toward Glyndebourne, he caught the scent of three interesting men as they gave chase to someone- overheard in the mad dash were "murderer," "justice," and "not this time." Enough for Alkor to surmise that they intended unsavory business, and that perhaps, his own attention might be worthwhile in watching how their dubious business played out. They were disinterested in him wholly, and so, tailing them from afar was no difficult task even for someone armored.

It took some time for them to ascertain the location of their target, but when they did, Alkor could feel the blood run cold and turgid in his veins. He knew Mari long before what she eventually became, what she had become known as. He had shared in her First Sin, the Adam to her Eve. The poison apple had run deeper into her blood, contaminating the kindness and selfless heart at her core, twisting her mind and shattering it, reshaping her into...

We know your tricks killer.”

Alkor watched the battle unfold for far longer than he should have. Even three against one, Mari had honed her blade and become one of the more capable Players trapped inside the world of Aincrad. More, she had cultivated a laundry list of names and made certain that the Monument never lacked for content. What had been her truth, that she was no monster, had shifted. The lines blurred. Human more than ever, the woman had succumbed to despair- and Alkor, the man who sought the very heights of strength, was far too weak to catch her. Too weak even to stretch out a hand.  He'd been paralyzed then, by the afterimage of a self that never truly existed. A love he'd cobbled together to appease her idyllic image of who he could be.

Who he wasn't.

But now, in the face of possibility, that no longer mattered.

“I'm warning you. This is your last chance. Leave me alone. All of you. I would never kill you. I think this encounter should prove that. But I can’t say the same for others if you keep doing this.”

Her conviction swayed his heart, frozen over as it was. Something warm, something small, spasmed inside it, and blossomed into the smallest coal. It was enough to stoke the forge. His legs moved. His feet carried him forward. It didn't matter who she was, or that their checkered past might be awkward, or even that she might have come to hate him. It didn't matter that he couldn't be who she needed when she had begged for him to be. It mattered, right now, that he was Here, that this was Now.

"If I had a nickle for every would-be hero," the gilded eyed Dark Knight intoned as he strode from the shadows and his hood, his helmet obscured everything but the faint, eerie glow of his eyes.

Alkor strode past Ben, jump-scared by his own name, and again by the arrival of an unknown entity. "You know her tricks, you said, and yet you thought three of you would be enough."

"We--!.”

"Use your eyes," Alkor cut Andrew short. "You've lost this battle. You never had a chance. And she's given you a way out." His eyes remained on the ground ahead of him, did not move to regard Mari, nor any of the other men. "Justice doesn't matter if you're dead." His words came abrupt, stern- and nothing like the man who he had been, those years ago. "Where is the justice in you dying here, like this? On the ground, reduced to a pitiful mess of man? Just because you're not afraid to die doesn't mean that you have to."

"What do you know about it!” Andrew shouted. "She's killed people! They'll never see their families, their loved ones again because of her! Where's the justice in that?"

"And so you should die in vain, hopeful that you might be remembered for the valiant effort?" Alkor turned his gaze on the man at last, no longer gold, but a fierce and malicious haze of molten metal that burned with fury. "This world has taken enough already. If there's justice for her to face, it won't be by any of you."

Andrew flinched, visibly recoiling from a wave of unseen force that had exploded from the man and hit him like a brick wall. He faltered, unable to find words. 

Alkor could never be a force for justice. He wasn't a great man, or even a good one. He was just a man. 

He drew Witchfang suddenly, the wicked aura of the weapon screaming with delight as he freed it from its prison. Alkor plunged the blade into the dirt, virulence sloughing off it in droves. There were a handful of meters between them, but he had made sure that these two would realize the true distance between them. It wasn't the same as Mari's kindness, the willingness to let it go she had shown was both admirable and spoke volumes of her personal growth. It was a journey Alkor couldn't imagine that she had walked, a destiny overturned, and a fate reforged by her own hands.

He couldn't give her what she'd asked for back then.

But now, he could grant her an inkling of succor.

"Now go."

Spoiler

920 HP 136 EN

Base Damage: 9 Mit: 170 Acc: 4 Eva: 0 Blight: 32  In addition, a target afflicted with Blight loses 20 Mitigation for 2 turns Bleed: 48 Paralyze Battle Healing: 92/turn 8-10 Critical chance 10% increase to healing received

• Total EXP:  272,145
• Total SP: 205
• Current Level: 33
• Paragon Level: 50
• Unlocked Paragon Rewards:
  • Lv. 5 | Gain additional col equivalent to 10% of EXP earned in that thread.
  • Lv. 10 | +1 LD to looting
  • Lv. 25  | Free Skill respec
  • Lv. 50 - (1) Gleaming Scale, (1) Demonic Shard, x3 Paragon Tier Up Tickets, Custom Skill

Inventory

Equipped: 

Item Name: Witchfang
Item Tier: 4
Item Type: OHSS
Item Enhancements: CURSED / BLIGHT / BLEED / PARALYZE
Description: "Forged from the fang of a massive Black Dragon slain by a nameless hero in ancient times, it was given
as offering to placate a Sorcerer intent on bringing low the Kingdom. He struck a deal with the hero, in exchange for
a reprieve in his generation, the fang would return to haunt their world one day. Witchfang promises ruin to those who
are struck by it. The weapon's edge is fashioned of Obsidian and invested with myriad afflictions. 
One of Aincrad's Cursed Weapons, its very presence inspires fear and invokes the chill of darkness."

Item Name: Titan's Ward
Item Tier: 4
Item Type: Heavy Armor
Item Enhancements: Mitigation 2, Taunt
Description: very long 

Item Name: Eye of Osiris
Item Tier: Tierless
Item Type: Accessory
Item Enhancements: ACC III
Description: A pin fashioned in the style of Ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs, depicting the eye of the god Osiris.

 

Edited August 5 by Alkor

[Mari 1]

"If I had a nickle for every would-be hero," 

Mari shifted on her foot, hearing the voice. It sounded…familar. She couldn’t place it, nor why the rich, smooth, and resonant voice tugged at feelings of nostalgia. Mari hadn’t drawn her weapon against the first three, she didn’t want to. Didn’t feel the need to. They were just friends playing at knighthood. But this man? His presence was enough to warrant her halberd materializing in hand.

It demanded attention, the strength in his stride told of an ice cold visage. Practiced and trained movements. 

"Justice doesn't matter if you're dead."

This world has taken enough already. If there's justice for her to face, it won't be by any of you.

In short work he had snuffed out the flames of the three knights. They scurried away, tails between their legs at the sight of his blighted weapon as it scorched the earth beneath it. Veins of blackened cracks seeping into lush green land, corrupting cracks forming. Ben lingered, just a moment longer, to mutter some sort of apology toward Mari,

“Y-You seem…kinda okay..I’ll try talking to- uh.” He shifted his gaze to the dark knight figure then proceeded to run off, catching up with Andrew - who was carrying their unconscious friend back to the settlement.

Encounter with the three stooges over Mari sighed as she ran a hand through her soft hair. “Some people…” She shifted to pick up the remaining bottle of whiskey. With weapon still in hand Mari eyed the other warily. He had come in to help her, but his use of the word justice didn’t quite sit right with her.

Several long moments settled between the two as Mari waited for him to make a move, or to say something. She wasn’t sure how long it had been before her voice cracked that thin veneer of ice between them. She didn’t need his help. She didn’t ask for it. Mari didn’t want to be indebted to someone. Still…

“Thanks.”  It had to be said, even if this were a trick, a trap…Mari couldn’t let the action go without acknowledgement.

In a sign of cautious trust Mari turned her back on the man so she could look over the nearby settlement. “Those three… have kinda been following me around for a while now. Hearts in the right place, but very misguided. Black and White. I honestly worry…they’re gonna get themselves caught up in some shit they won’t be able to run from. They’ll die.”

The last two words punctuated with a finality, a nail in their coffin that Mari herself had struck. Warning her partner of their dalliances around the LC matters in a vain effort to have him scare them off from further strife. No unnecessary killing

“Mari.” The woman said, shifting her attention to the man. “I’m Mari.”

No longer just Mari. she addressed him with the calm confidence that took years to be forged. Dying embers that dwindled as a world threw water and dirt and muck against it lit anew. Cerulean eyes cautious and bright kept their sights squarely on the man before her.

“And you?”

Edited August 5 by Mari

[Alkor 0]

He watched implacable as the two men licked their wounds and collected their compatriot ,all too eager to retreat. It did not strike him as at all unexpected that Mari did not trust him. She had learned distrust from circumstance, learned to be hated, and to hate in turn. That she was not bombarding him with a scathing review told Alkor all he needed to know. Their time apart, the distance he had all but forced on her, had been good.

Though the whole truth of that matter was open-ended, and he couldn't know how much she had suffered in order to climb out of the pit she had fallen into. Only now was he able to look at her situation with open eyes- something he could never have done before. He found his compassion only after he'd hurt her.

And it was too late to heal the wounds. Obviously too late, because they had clearly already healed. She was not filled with hate for no reason, seeking to take life without cause. She was not trying to run him off simply because he was there. Measured trust was what she afforded him, even though she did not even know who he was.

To have grown so much, healed so much... Alkor found himself staring at the ground again, even as she addressed him. 

Thanks.

"Mmm." He could have easily dismissed it, said it was nothing, or simply accepted the gratitude, but none of that sat right with him. She hadn't asked for his help, and for a brief moment in time, he'd been almost unwilling to give it. No- more than that, she never needed it in the first place.

"I was just repaying a debt," he told her. "You've got nothing to thank me for."

They’ll die.

She was so certain of those words he felt the ice fill his veins again. Mari had haunted the Player Killer circles for long enough that there was no question she still knew people, and that some of them would even have her back. Alkor knew she meant it.

When she gave her name, he was silent for a long moment. He could hear his heart beating in his ears, threatening to heighten into a veritable drumbeat inside the helmet. The cold sweat on his neck, shoulders, and back prompted him to peel the hood back, and to pry the helmet free. Messy blonde hair fell around his ears and his gilded eyes, like the sunset, remained vigilant as they sank into the horizon. He didn't look her in the eyes, he didn't really want to have that conversation.

But so often in life, Man does not get what he wants.

"I'm no one of consequence, really."

[Mari 1]

Odd

Mari found it very odd that for all his valour and wit. For his well versed and thinly veiled threats toward the men the stalwart man faltered before her. A helmet laden head tilted down, and shoulders slumped as though they were uncertain. Was he…scared? No, that didn’t make sense.

Finally, he lifted his unseen gaze.

"I was just repaying a debt,"

 

“No one owes me debts.” Mari said quietly, this time swinging her full body to face him, chancing a step closer with a tilt of her head. The man had earned her full attention.

How he spoke - it was as if he knew her. Mari had all but cut ties with most people in her past. Letting them reside there. If they reached out she would respond in kind but Mari was done being the beacon of hope for others, done tearing tiny pieces of herself off till there was nothing left. Mari wanted to be selfish. Wanted to live her own life, and she had been. So, why would anyone ever think they owed her of all people a debt?

He still hadn’t introduced himself, there was a moment of hesitation. Then finally, with tension in his shoulders…arms lifted and slowly pulled away a cowl, and then a helmet. Blonde hair cascaded down like waves - catching the sun like liquid amber. Mari’s breath hitched, and her heart skipped a beat.

Eyes like treacle she once had fallen in love with refused to look at her.

“Alkor?” His name but a whisper from her lips, a long forgotten song - a concerto played on a lonely violin in a frozen tundra. Like a discordant melody, melancholy memories drifted to the surface, and pangs of pain Mari thought she had moved past ebbed and flowed through her body with each heavy heartbeat. He had been with her when her descent began- seen her at her absolute worst.

Mari had watched him die.
  Mari had seen him come back.
          And he had taken oh so very much from her. And yet…

"I'm no one of consequence, really."

 

And yet... That was Alkor. How many years had it been? Three? Four? Time was difficult to ascertain within Aincrad. Mari couldn’t help but give her head a small shake, a soft laugh dancing upon her lips at his ridiculous words as she popped open the cork to the extremely expensive whiskey she had held. “Well… no one of consequence.” Warmth returned to her voice as she addressed him. There were a million words she could say to him, a million reasons why she should hate him. But Mari was not that kind of person.

Anger no longer fuelled her.

Loneliness no longer drenched her in cold.

Despite everything… 

“It’s good to see you again.” Despite everything all she could do was offer him a relieved smile that reached her eyes, and filled her with the warmth of relief.

[Alkor 0]

The weight was immense, even without anything tangible to hold him down. Invisible hands gripped his throat, stifling him, choking him, threatening to pull him under as he drowned from every thought and emotion that roiled up inside him. His hands were clammy, too cold and paralyzed by indecision and anxiety to tremble. His hollowed gaze couldn't move toward her, the raw shame and boundless failure he felt had taken ownership of his wits.

Passionate kisses that he'd fumbled through, without any idea whether or not he seemed to know what he was doing, played back in his mind. The guilt like snake bites, venom lancing through his fingertips- the same fingertips that once touched her skin, had held her like a lover. 

Liar.

His father had drilled the importance of honesty and integrity into him, but the Creature he'd fashioned himself into was an incarnation not of honor, but his twisted interpretative dance that he'd called "Heroism." Alkor had learned many things inside the Castle, not the least of which was that men don't want to be heroes. Its just something that happens.

Anyone who wants to be a hero is a fool.

And he'd played the part of fool to perfection.

Alkor?

At the sound of his character name, Thom winced. There was a time they had gone beyond that, removed their masks, and played at knowing each other. Or Mari had.

The mask was all Alkor knew. To be accurate, masks- plural- because he wore so many and changed them all tailored to whatever the situation required. Even this strange sequence of events, where he'd stepped in on her behalf- was another mask.

He wasn't sure he could give her something real.

Mari was used to that, though.

It’s good to see you again.

He fumbled over every word he considered, anything he might have wanted to say, and found only silence. Yet again, he had gone non-verbal. Alkor was biting his lower lip now, eyes narrowed, a thin trickle of blood running down his chin as he fought back against his mind as it sabotaged him.

She's learned to let it go. Good for her. You should be happy for her. 

Jealousy, perhaps?

The demon in his brain whispered what he knew he wanted to feel, but couldn't. It jeered his every attempt to be free, mocking him with the thoughts a normal person should have. Rationally, logically, Alkor should have just been proud of her. 

Even just to say "it's good to see you" felt like whip scouring away flesh from his cheek. She should have been upset, even angry. She should have hated him, or questioned why. Those things would have made sense, they would have fit the melancholic narrative his poisonous mind wove for him.

He wanted to tell her that it was good, that he was happy for her, that the distance had been positive. That at the end of the day, healing was what both of them needed.

Mari had healed.

Alkor had learned to live without healing. Every interaction picked at the scabs. This one was no different. Now, the blood poured free again, and the cracks came no closer to repair.

She didn't need you. Still doesn't need you. You don't deserve forgiveness. Even with your pathetic act of kindness, you don't feel like this is right.

His hand suddenly took hold of Witchfang, tightly gripped the hilt, and returned the blade to its sheath. It should have been a thoughtless interaction, a quick exchange of niceties. Instead, he dismantled himself again, and the bitterness and anger won. A harsh, ragged sigh escaped Alkor as he finally managed to turn his gaze in Mari's direction. 

Progress.

Even if he was looking straight past her.

"I apologize for any inconvenience," he told her. "I know you didn't need the help."

He didn't know what else to say. Hell, he was convinced she'd literally have anyone else in front of her. He was just hellbent on not letting the voice win.

[Mari 1]

A smile turned to a thin small line of worry. Weapon clattered to the floor, cork back in its place with a quiet ‘thunk’ and the alcohol, a gesture of some sort of…whatever the two had between them placed back into her inventory with a crystalised flourish. Olive branch denied.

"I apologize for any inconvenience," he told her. "I know you didn't need the help."

“That’s not fair.” Mari said sharply, her voice rising. Inwardly, she regretted the sudden snap of her tone. But it wasn’t…

“You can’t step back into my life like that. Assume inconvenience - then saunter away again. I’m the one who gets to decide what is and isn’t convenient. You-of all people at least owe me that.” Was it fair for her to assume that was what he was trying to do? Maybe not, but Alkor had never really been fair to her, had he? Even now. When Mari was genuinely relieved to see him. To know he was still alive. The warmth in her tone slowly leaked, replaced with a hurt which she thought was long forgotten and buried. Raw and forgotten emotions leaked into her words. “I was. Am, genuinely happy to see you, Tho-sorry. Alkor” Had she even the right to address him by his name?

He seemed to get his closure, all those years ago in the snow as he left her sobbing in the snow. He had the strength to walk away as she struggled to pick up the pieces he left behind. At the Tanabata event where she longed to approach him as nothing more than a friend, for the pain of him not being in her life at all would have been worse. He had the ability to go through the motions of celebration where Mari had been alone.

Mari drew in a long breath in an attempt to steady herself and quell the dull thrum of ache that began to well in her chest. That was over. It was in the past. She had let go. Although the pain and scars he inflicted would never quite heal. Mari would never quite trust another. Never knew if people were being sincere. Even now, even Lancaster…Mari was expecting it to go up in flames, in the literal and figurative sense.

Silence.

There was always a silence that would settle between the two. Mari used to never mind them, because it was filled with an unspoken warmth and bond, the brush of fingertips, the rise and fall of breathing. This felt cold. This felt empty.

“I wanted to talk to you.” Mari said quietly, voice barely a whisper. “There were so many things I never got to tell you. Never got to ask you.” 

A small clench of her fist. Another deep breath, and the tension was gone. He clearly struggled to stand in front of her, and a part of Mari wanted to reach out to alleviate whatever plagued him but instead she stood there and let him bare the weight of his actions. Alkor didn’t like being touched, at least - that was the man she remembered.

“We were friends once, right?” Or was that a saccharine lie too?  “There was a reason you had approached me today, right? As you said. I didn’t need the help. But you came and helped anyway. Why?”

Even if it were to ruin what little bonds they had left, and whatever red strings of fate between them would snap in all their finality, Mari didn’t want anything to be left unsaid anymore, not between them. Not with him.

Someone who once was her entire world. Mari wanted to at least try to repair what they once were. Not as lovers, nor as liars. But friends.

[Alkor 0]

That’s not fair.

To say he froze at those words would be inaccurate. Rather, the sigh that left his lips felt like the exhaustion of ten thousand sleepless nights as one. What in life was fair, would have been a more than fair question to posit in response; but she didn't want quirky, useless sentiments. Mari had dispensed with pleasantness and demanded satisfaction.  You can’t step back into my life like that. Assume inconvenience - then saunter away again. She'd been quick to take that stance, ready for it even. The defensive switch inside him had flipped, fight or flight triggered.

And flight had been denied.

Alkor's gaze found hers finally, harder and colder. 

I’m the one who gets to decide what is and isn’t convenient.

He started to open his mouth, but she continued.

You-of all people at least owe me that.

That was perhaps the fastest turnaround that Alkor had ever played party to. From before she saw his face to mere moments after the revelation, she had gone from no one owing her a thing to calling on a debt he owed. Some wounds did not heal, and he knew that better than anyone. But the rage Alkor felt was not at Mari, especially not for righteous anger at him for wrongdoing. It was at himself, largely for allowing it to escalate to this point. Frustration with the situation for spiraling out of control. Damning all the world's luck for thrusting him back into her life, against his will if not hers. It was those embers that rekindled the flame inside him and burned away uncertainty and hesitation.

She demanded satisfaction now in the form of...

I wanted to talk to you. There were so many things I never got to tell you. Never got to ask you.

Silence had always ruled in the vacant spaces of Alkor's life, where he had no words to fill them. It were as much answer as any lie he might conjure, if not better. Because silence was the truth. Silence hid nothing when it came to the Dark Knight. Ever had he been an open book, if one only took the time to glance his way. A broken man, never taught how to be a man at all. Nothing that she'd thought was real could be forged from the lack of foundation that was Alkor. He was brick and mortar uncombined, raw, and only now had he learned to place clay or ore into flame to cultivate something. Only now, in the wake of everything, did he have a semblance of self.

But that wouldn't satisfy the curiosity, would never slake the insatiable need for closure.

We were friends once, right? It surprised him more that he didn't even flinch at that question. It was a fair one, and one he didn't have an easy answer for. But silence wasn't going to suffice this time, either. The forge burned as he cast away his comfort, his silence, and smelted it into something that might give Mari what she wanted. "Friends..." he repeated the word, tasting it. It was foul in his mouth, sulfuric like brimstone as it burned him. He knew its meaning, but what they had shared wasn't that. There was hatred in the beginning, distrust, misunderstanding. Thrown together by the twisted strings of an ill-conceived plot, they had learned to coexist in something of a peaceful way, but it rapidly descended into chaos. Allies, was a closer word to the truth. But even more accurate than that...

Thom had friends in the world outside. "Friends." People who understood that he was different, that he wasn't ever going to be quite like the rest of them. People who accepted those differences, and who made sacrifices to still keep him in their lives. People he was sure deserved better, but who decided that they didn't want better. That was what friendship was. It was something that transcended flimsy notions of what it should be and simply was something that they kept coming back to, that was no different, no matter how long they had been apart. 

He felt something toward Mari, certainly. Pity? No- it hadn't been that. He was sure that she was strong, could have made it out herself even without him. No- it was something born of the same idiocy that had driven him mad going into the battle with the Hydra. The façade of a Hero, the desire to save someone. He wanted to save Mari. So he had fashioned a mask, and he wore it in order to protect her from that darkness, to be the light she needed, even though he had no idea how. But the reality of it was hideous.

"We were victims, Mari." 

Perhaps the hardest thing he had ever said, an admission of his own weakness. "Victims of this world," he began. "Victims of each other, of misunderstanding, of circumstance, of a misguided need to help, or to be loved. Trauma bonded." Alkor didn't back down. It was too late now, far too late to go back. "I'd fashioned myself an anchor to keep you from washing away, but in doing it, I became a burden. I wasn't a friend to you Mari, I was a boy with delusions of grandeur, playing at confidant and trying to save a woman from a darkness I didn't fully comprehend."

Like a slap to his own face. Cold, metallic, surgical. 

There was a reason you had approached me today, right? 

His fingers curled into a black iron fist.

As you said. I didn’t need the help. But you came and helped anyway. Why?

"Guilt." He answered, unwavering. "A debt I'm not sure I can ever repay. I meddled where I should never have, instead of trying to be a friend. I didn't know how to be one."

Maybe he still didn't.

Maybe it wouldn't be what she wanted to hear.

But it was the truth.

"Because when you wanted peace, when you deserved peace, I couldn't give it to you, except with a lie." Alkor straightened his back, steeled at last, no longer afraid of breaking his silence on this. "But in the moment where I saw them harassing you, in the moment where I was torn between whether to let it lie or to stand up for you, I realized that for once, however small, I had something real to offer. It might not be peace in the proper sense, and I may have spoiled it now by saying it plain- but I saw an opportunity to actually do something good."

He exhaled, throat dry from the heat building inside. 

"Because you deserved better."

 

 

 

Edited August 7 by Alkor

[Mari 1]

Mari inwardly groaned. She hadn’t meant to snap at him like that. She hadn’t meant for it all to bubble forth like toxic bile. All she wanted…genuinely was to reconnect with an old friend. But the wounds she thought had healed blistered open again. Feeling guilty at her outburst Mari shifted her eyes away, bending down to pick up her weapon and have it disappear back into her inventory. Lest any wandering players think she was attacking him. “Sorry…” She mumbled, then - with a resolve to fix things she said it again, louder this time. “Sorry. I’ve been trying to be better at…” She rolled her wrist, “Yanno - not snapping at people.” 

 "Friends..." 

Mari lifted her head to face him. He seemed to contemplate the words, which stung. But Mari allowed him the silence he needed to work through his thoughts. If she knew him, which…Mari wasn’t sure she really did anymore - then he’d prefer that. Right? She wanted to understand him. She wanted him to be truthful, even if the words would hurt.

"We were victims, Mari." 

“...Yeh. That’s true.”

His admission hurt, words like knives that buried themselves into scarred wounds. But at least it was honest. His honesty washed away that pain, numbing it, if only slightly. So he hadn’t seen them as friends. Perhaps the notion was impossible. A faint memory of their meeting, him threatening her as she spat vitriol back at him - not exactly the most pleasant of greetings. Of Life, getting it in his head that because the two preferred solitude that they should be together. Then the both of them being swept up in that foolish hairbrained scheme. Trauma bonded. Mari snorted, almost amused at the words. 

“Yeap.” A simple admission, agreeing with his words as she pulled out one of Lancasters cigarettes, and with a snap of her thumb against her forefinger - the small gem in the ring she wore lit up - igniting the tip of her finger with a small flame. Mari quickly snuffed it out and held the cigarette in her arms as she crossed them over her chest. Mari didn’t like the feeling of inhaling smoke, but the smell comforted her in this tense moment. A memory flashed of another loud redhead that inhaled smoke as though it were air. Corvo. She wondered how he was going. If he ever managed to reconcile with Alkor.

“So not friends.” Mari said quietly. Letting the words hang heavy on the air between the two. An admission that almost cemented the reality of how true that was. The two never seemed to quite mesh as well as she had hoped. Still…still… There was so much between them. 

"I'd fashioned myself an anchor to keep you from washing away, but in doing it, I became a burden. I wasn't a friend to you Mari, I was a boy with delusions of grandeur, playing at confidant and trying to save a woman from a darkness I didn't fully comprehend."

“You’re not wrong.” Her words were quiet, contemplative as she tapped the smoke against her arm, its ash trailing down to the floor. Mari watched as his fingers curled. He continued to answer her questions. Why he had approached her. Guilt. And Debt.

“How to be a friend?” Mari asked as she glanced to the side. A pair of players had started to leave Glynbourne only to catch sight of her and turn straight back into the town. Right…they were a little too close to the settlement. Mari stuck out like a sore thumb, and would attract unwanted attention if she lingered.

“You’ve given me the truth today. Consider your debt repaid.”

Her face twisted back into one of concern as she took a step toward him, holding the smoke away from him in case the smell bothered him. Cerulean attempted to peer into twilight eyes. Has this been plaguing him? Their past seemed to weigh heavily on his shoulders. A second later and Mari stepped past him, a small nudge into his arm in an effort to get him to follow her.

“I can’t stay this close to the town, it makes people nervous.”

Her steps were slow and steady, and at first Mari wasn’t sure he was following. But, she heard his footfalls, then he continued to talk as they walked. How he lied to try and give her peace. How when he saw her being harassed he realised he could offer her something real.

“Spoiled it. No.” They found shade beneath a maple tree and Mari snuffed out the cigarette against her fingerless glove, then tore it off - beneath it a scar around her wrist could be seen. It wouldn’t take much for one to make the connection, that at some point - she had it twain clean off. That too disappeared into her inventory. She knew he had seen her use it, and wanted to ensure he knew she was removing anything that could be seen as dangerous.

“It’s clear you’ve given this a lot of thought. I appreciate it. Your truth doesn’t spoil any semblance of peace you think you’ve given me. If anything, I think that is peace in the proper sense.”

Mari shifted to lean her back against the tree.

“Besides, I have a lot to apologize for too. I was lonely, I was broken - and I latched onto you. I could have treated you better. I could have treated you as Thom and not as Alkor - a man I had idealized. You were simply someone who wanted strength to escape and return to his grandma.” Her words quiet, she wasn’t sure if it was fair to be airing out his personal things like this. “When you….when I realized you were alive again it felt like…I wanted to make sure you were real, if you could live, maybe Evelyn could too…and you know ….it happened again.” Her eyes shifted to try and meet his. “Freyd died, and came back. This system is faulty.”

Despite that, Mari knew there was no bringing back someone like her daughter. “Sorry… that’s a different conversation. I’m deflecting.  I was a shitty person to you Alkor.   You deserved better. I learned from my mistakes, I grew. I moved on. You seem to be doing a lot of growing too. Maybe we weren’t friends, maybe we may never be friends - but - it’d be nice to at least try. Start off as acquaintances perhaps. ‘Course, you don’t owe me anything. We’re almost like oil and water, when you think about it.”

[Alkor 0]

He watched her pull out a cigarette at some point, and his brain fixated on that. Comfort, however small, however seemingly pointless- that didn't seem like the worst idea. He could hear what she was saying, but the words tunneled around him. He felt like he was underwater for a long moment, drowning not only in sentiment, but in things far too heavy for him to hold alone. He resigned himself to follow suit, fumbling for several seconds around his inventory to produce his pipe. 

Striking the match, he inhaled bittersweet poison and the burning sensation trumped his anxiety. Holding the breath in, he felt his lungs screaming, fighting against the unnatural sensation for reprieve, and he focused on the moment of release that brought his mind back down to the ground. When his amber eyes flickered open once more, he was looking directly at Mari.

You’ve given me the truth today. Consider your debt repaid.

He could have said that it felt too easy, but he knew that would have been a lie. Honesty... brutal Honesty in this situation, had taken every ounce of courage in him to manage. Still, he didn't think himself deserving to be let off the hook so easily. In the end, that was Mari's decision to make, not his. A lesson learned from Lessa. It was the victim- not the offender- who decided the terms of what made things even.

I can’t stay this close to the town, it makes people nervous.

He lifted the pipe to take another hit, albeit less impact full than the last. Diminishing returns were a notorious symptom of addiction. The more you relied on a substance, the less an effect it had on your body. Especially over time. "Lead the way," Alkor replied breathlessly. It was better than standing there dawdling, and the time it took them to relocate would give him a bit of reprieve to collect his thoughts in a more meaningful way.

Besides, I have a lot to apologize for too. I was lonely, I was broken - and I latched on to you. 

It had taken her no time to put her thoughts into words once they arrived where she wanted them to sit, away from where people might come across them. Words that Alkor heard, and rather than speaking, listened. He had always been better at that. Not at forming his thoughts into grand and meaningful discourse, but at absorbing information, understanding it- and in many such cases, leaving it adrift in the aether.

For Alkor, it had never been about that. He knew from the beginning, watching Mari struggle, learning about her situation, watching the abuse and harassment firsthand, witnessing the death of her daughter- Alkor was fully aware that this woman had never been operating with a full deck of cards. Forced to mulligan again and again, she was playing against a dealer who kept aces in his sleeve the entire time they had known each other. He knew that, and foolishly, he'd thrown himself into the role of hero. Her hero. 

And she was apologizing to him for taking advantage of him. 

His expression softened a bit as he sank to his haunches, leaning against the tree for support and turning his gaze to the sky. He did recall the wisdom of his grandmother, about reconciliation and how "sometimes, people feel differently than you do." This was just one of those things. He had to let Mari say what was on her mind. This was for her, not for him.

I could have treated you as Thom and not as Alkor - a man I had idealized.

"We all did." Alkor interjected suddenly. "That was the point of the lie I told myself. The lie that spread farther than I intended, and that inevitably fooled everyone."

He didn't look down, instead taking a long drag before chuckling a plume of smoke. "He was supposed to be the ideal. I was supposed to be ideal. I was supposed to be anything but myself. That's why you couldn't have treated me any differently than you did. You can't be held accountable for that."

You were simply someone who wanted strength to escape and return to his grandma.

When she put it that way, it felt like whiplash. In a single sentence, he was reduced to the small, coddled child he really was. Even if it hadn't been Mari's intention, she'd plucked the rawest nerve in Alkor's body and pulled it tight. It stung. He didn't react, at least, not visibly.

The hardest part of Mari saying that was Alkor facing the hard reality that time was not on his side. They were in the game now for several years- years longer than the months that Doctors had given his grandmother to live. She could have lasted longer, defied all the odds, and been waiting for him to come out of the game-induced coma.

Alkor wasn't a liar anymore, though. He wasn't going to lie to himself and say that was probable, let alone possible. He clenched the pipe tightly in his palm, eyebrows knitting together.

I was a shitty person to you Alkor.   You deserved better.

Even if she believed that, he never would. That was the difference in their perspectives. Even if she held herself to a different standard now, even if that was her new prerogative, Alkor wasn't interested in an apology he was fully convinced wasn't needed. So he didn't acknowledge it verbally. Just a quick grunt, a displaced gaze, and a nod of affirmation that everything she needed to say had been said.

Maybe we weren’t friends, maybe we may never be friends - but - it’d be nice to at least try. Start off as acquaintances perhaps.

He let his arm hang over a knee, one bent and pulled to his chest while the other stretched out flat on the ground. Absently, he tapped the pipe against his shin, eyes glazed over as he gave thought to the words.  "You and I," he said, "I'm not sure if we can ever be friends. There's too much there, too many wounds to heal. For you, but also for me. And that's not anyone's fault."

He'd grown up enough to know that he needed to say it plain. "It's not fair to force ourselves to push past those memories and try to be something we're not. It's okay to forgive each other and be civil and not try to patchwork ourselves back into each other's lives. Especially not when we've managed to mend the fabric of our lives without the parts that were lost."

He pointed the back end of the pipe toward her.

"Doesn't mean I don't value you as a person, doesn't mean I hate you," he said without looking her way, "Just, I don't think we're good for each other. Or maybe I'm just not good for you. I don't know," he told her honestly. "Rest assured, today was the last time I'll play hero for you," Alkor said. 

"Because now both of us know, you never needed one."

[Mari 1]

Mari slid from her standing position to a seated one, back still against the tree. One leg splayed out - close to Alkor. One knee up to her chest so she could rest her arm on it; keep the sickening smell of smoke wafting close to her, to comfort her. Not once did she actually tag a drag from it. She simply tapped the ash away every so often as she listened to Alkor.

She was quiet, giving him the time to slowly work through his thoughts. It was clear he had been on some kind of journey of self discovery, it made her feel happy to know he seemed to be slowly realizing that his quest to be ‘Alkor’ was as self destructive as it was to others. Mari noticed it sometimes, but never felt like she was in a proper position to really, and truly talk to him about it. It felt like he’d focus so hard on the negative - rather than the true meaning behind her words. Perhaps…it was just because Mari wasn’t very good at articulating things.

There was a time she was so withdrawn she didn’t even like being touched by others. Mari had moved past most of that, she still didn’t like small talk with strangers. She still preferred not to be affectionate with many people, but she had grown - and her world felt brighter and less heavy because of it.

"He was supposed to be the ideal. I was supposed to be ideal. I was supposed to be anything but myself. That's why you couldn't have treated me any differently than you did. You can't be held accountable for that."

He was always too hard on himself. No one asked him to be perfect, no one asked him to be Alkor. Distant memories tinged with sorrow would flicker into her mind - a violin performance on the lake.How he had stepped in when her daughter died. Alkor said Mari couldn’t be held accountable, but she could - when she saw the signs and chose to ignore them for a fleeting moment of warmth. To be able to share some sort of connection with at least one other person, and back then - she had set her eyes squarely on Alkor. On Thom.

"You and I, I'm not sure if we can ever be friends. There's too much there, too many wounds to heal. For you, but also for me. And that's not anyone's fault."

Mari didn’t say anything at first. It hurt to hear that. He talked about wounds, things that needed to heal. In a sense, he was right. Mari sighed, they were both being truthful right now. So she chose to clear her throat. “What you did, I’m not sure I’d ever fully get over it. But - and I mean this in the nicest possible way - you are not the root cause of my problems. You’re just a drop. A single ripple. In comparison to others, it barely registers. Honestly…I never even told anyone besides Life what you did, felt it not my place. I felt it was unfair to you. I didn’t want people to have any negative connotations with you. I kept thinking it was my burden alone to bear. So it wasn’t you. I was…I’ve been through a lot.” Mari sighed as she flicked her finished cigarette away and immediately lit another in the same fashion. A snap of her thumb and forefinger to create a tiny flame on her index finger. Another smoke she would not draw breath from but simply have it sit there. 

“That’s…I’m bad with words. I mean - yes there are wounds, but for me…they’re not too many that they won’t heal. We shared a lot…you and I. Regardless of the lies, there were moments of truth and sincerity between them. At least - I’d like to think so. Maybe I’m idealizing it.”

She had the chance to reflect. “I was imprisoned for two years yanno? When you’re sitting there alone - never knowing if its day or night. It gives you a lot of time to reflect on things.” It gave her the chance to really think about the most important people in her life, and how at one point Alkor was really and truly one of them, regardless of the pain he caused her, regardless of the lies. He was still important. And much like the wounds and scars would never quite heal, that importance would never quite diminish. Desires to make sure he was safe, to lift him up and be there for him were all still there. But that was not her role in his life. She was not his saviour - she was not the light to his shadow. She was just Amari. 

"It's not fair to force ourselves to push past those memories and try to be something we're not.”

Mari watched as he’d point his pipe at her, reiterating that he didn’t hate her. That he still valued her as a person. He simply thought they weren’t good for each other. There were no more heroes. No more women that needed saving. No one is playing a part or forcing themselves into a mold.

“You know…” Mari said after a very long silence. “At one point…I’d say you don’t get to decide what role you play in my life. That I’d consider you a friend, regardless - but. I feel that would be selfish and tone deaf of me. I may be more selfish lately, but I’m not going to force that on you. ‘Sides, that’s not real friendship.”  She shut her eyes. Mari wanted to be able to be someone Alkor could rely on, to reach out to if he felt he needed it. Despite the pain, despite the wounds… they had shared many moments and memories together. Mari learned of those waiting for him outside. She had met the people he considered friends, ones he knew out there. There was just so much between them, but maybe that alone was why they could not be friends. Or even acquaintances.

"Just, I don't think we're good for each other. Or maybe I'm just not good for you. I don't know" 

“I don’t think we were good for each other. Right now? We don’t know each other enough to make that conclusion. At least…I don’t think so. You don’t want to be friends? Sucks. Is fine though. If you needed it, I’d still come if you called for aid.”

Mari opened her eyes to catch his - an intensity that demanded he kept her gaze, that he not look away or shrink into himself. “You do have friends. Ones whom I’ve met. Ones who probably wonder how you are. I am in no position to tell you what to do, reach out to them, or don’t.” She’d offer him a slight smile as she tapped her cigarette against her knee. “Not my business, right? Just…know they’re here. Somewhere.”   If Thom would reach out to Corvo, to Arc, that was up to him - Mari wouldn’t meddle.

It seemed the man was on a very long and very painful journey. One that Mari had taken many years ago.

"Because now both of us know, you never needed one."

“I did, and for what it's worth - you were a good hero - but I think it's time you become a good Alkor, a good Thom for yourself. Wherever your journey takes you - know I’ll be rooting for you on the sidelines. I'm my own hero, its time for you to be your own you.”

[Alkor 0]

You are not the root cause of my problems.

He wasn't. He knew that. And if she'd said he was, he would've called her a liar. 

You’re just a drop. A single ripple.

Insignificant though he may have been, he was a problem. And that was enough for him. He was always a burden to someone, intentionally or otherwise. Mari knew Alkor, had respect and cared for Alkor, but she couldn't have known the man behind the mask. And because of that, she couldn't possibly have known why that was so important to him. That was why he felt no anger or animosity toward her. It wasn't intentionally malicious. Hell- her intentions were among the best. 

Thom was just done being a burden.

So it wasn’t you. I was…I’ve been through a lot.

"But I didn't make it any easier," he stated flatly, sparing himself another pull of the harsh herb. "I'm not here to take responsibility for every problem you've ever had, and I lack the hubris to imagine I've been playing a pivotal role in your life since I left it."

He swiftly corrected that misconception. That was a skill he'd picked up along the way. Not addressing the gaps in conversation, leaving the unspoken words to rot- that had caused the rift between himself and Lessa the first time. 

There are wounds, but for me…they’re not too many that they won’t heal. We shared a lot…you and I. Regardless of the lies, there were moments of truth and sincerity between them. At least - I’d like to think so.

"Sure," he allowed. "We shared a lot. Some of it may have even come close to something real. But I'm not going to sit here and pretend that means we know the first thing about each other. I know your name. You know about my grandmother. The little things that connect us to the painful things just out of reach, that for all we know, are just a fraction of an inch away from our flesh and blood bodies. That we can't feel, or hear, because we decided to put on the NerveGear."

At one point…I’d say you don’t get to decide what role you play in my life. That I’d consider you a friend, regardless - but. I feel that would be selfish and tone deaf of me. I may be more selfish lately, but I’m not going to force that on you. ‘Sides, that’s not real friendship.

He wore a much colder expression now as she spoke, carefully choosing his own words.

"Sure," Alkor repeated. "We might even know "enough-" he exhaled smoke this time through his nostrils as he faced her at last. 

I don’t think we were good for each other. Right now? We don’t know each other enough to make that conclusion. At least…I don’t think so.

"No," he agreed with her, surprisingly. "We do not."

You don’t want to be friends? Sucks. Is fine though. If you needed it, I’d still come if you called for aid.

"I don't. But not for the reasons you think," he said. "I'm not ready to be a friend. Not just to you. To anyone. I've never been good enough for myself, Amari. If I can't find that? A semblance of self-acceptance? If I'm constantly chasing some ideal version of myself, constantly trying to be everything I'm not..."

He exhaled sharply, staring at the ground again. He'd come clean to Lessa, told the blonde who he admired the whole truth about his struggles, his pain, and only scratched the surface of the true self-loathing that burned inside him. He couldn't just open that door and admit it to Mari. Their relationship already had enough problems. And he was here, flat out denying her offer of friendship.

For what it's worth - you were a good hero - but I think it's time you become a good Alkor, a good Thom. For yourself.

For the first time, he looked up, and he smiled.  

It was a sad smile, small, and soft. 

But it was enough.

"That's all I've ever wanted."

[Mari 1]

Somehow, this conversation felt nice. There wasn’t any terse word spoken between them. No bitter misunderstandings, just truth. Granted, some of it hurt - but it was the two of them finally being honest. Finally being able to face each other. It felt like a weight was being removed, one Mari didn’t know was there. It felt like she could breathe a little easier. It felt like she was able to actually look at him, even if Thom didn’t know who he was yet - it felt like Mari was finally seeing a part of him. Not the part that told her he loved her, not the part that would hold her in an attempt to ease pain. But the real man behind the mask of Alkor. Maybe Mari was wrong, maybe she was assuming things again. 

I'm not here to take responsibility for every problem you've ever had, and I lack the hubris to imagine I've been playing a pivotal role in your life since I left it.

Mari knew. She didn’t bother addressing it. Letting nothing more than silence and a small nod speak for her instead. Alkor….or was it Thom? The man…he spoke of what connected them. They were small, painful. Some out of reach, some completely out of their grasp forever. Again, Mari said nothing. Simply drew her cigarette close and inhaled. Mari picked up on how his expression soured - when she mentioned friendship. But she wasn’t going to force it on him. She didn’t expect anything from him.

“I don’t expect anything from you.”

It was the one thing she wanted to reassure him of. The only thing she had between his own vocal thoughts. He agreed with her, in them saying that they didn’t really know each other. And that somehow put Mari at ease. The man would look at her, a sad smile. Soft. Eyes finally seeing her for who she was, much like she was finally seeing him.

Mari glanced at her cigarette and with a heavy sigh she snuffed it out against the tree. It felt like their conversation was coming to a close. What more was there to say?

Don’t be a stranger?
    I missed this?
        I want you to be stronger for yourself.

There were so many things, but none seemed fitting for the moment. Mari leaned forward on a single hand as she peered into his eyes. That glimmering shade of amber. It bought her so much warmth. So much pain - so familiar yet it felt like she was staring at a stranger. 

"That's all I've ever wanted."

“Then I hope you achieve that.”

Mari pushed herself up off the ground, dusting the grass away from her hands, she took a step back. After all their progress the last thing she wanted to do was to invade his personal space.

“It was good to see you again.”

Mari turned away from him, and waved - the glint of a ring on her left hand caught the sun. Mari was in a far better place than she was years ago. She had grown. And she now liked who she was.

She only hoped that one day, Thom would find that same solace.

------

Mari | [Word Count: 10644/5 = 2128.8] * [True Tier: 12] * [Group Factor: 1] = 25,546 EXP, Laurel Wreath: 3831 col 1 mon

Alkor | [Word Count: 10644/5 = 2128.8] * [True Tier: 8] * [Group Factor: 1] = 17,030 EXP, Laurel Wreath: 2554 col    1 mon                                

Edited August 13 by Mari