[PP-F10] First Impressions

[Mari 1]

Just on the outskirts of Yomi, the main settlement on the 10th floor stood a large tent; its permanence on the floor a staple. The near darkness of the floor hides the stains on the outside of the tent, blood and dirt - as though the thing was dragged through a warzone before being hastily set up. Simply for how long it had been there, rumours kept most away. 'The Pink Pker' they would say. Others, simply decided whatever wares were sold there were not worth the hassle of dealing with the prickly person inside. Within it, a faint yellow glow, followed by a myriad of scents that burn the nose. Flowery herbs, burnt charcoal, sulphur, acetone and chemicals.

The interior lit by jars that hung from the ceiling filled with fireflies, quaint, almost peaceful. The inside of the tents floor is covered in various mismatched rugs and pillows, it looks comfortable. On the left side of the tent is an old, mahogany table filled with various vials and bottles, with faded labels on them.  On the right side; is a locked glass display case that has a variety of crystals, also labelled. The back of the tent has a small table, that serves as a sort of 'counter' behind it sits a very dark looking orange haired woman; whose blue eyes glimmer faintly in the waltzing lights above. Behind her is what looks like a scientific set up - there are test tubes, vials, bottles, and a few Bunsen burners, sitting underneath various liquids that are bubbling away. 

"Fuck....." Mari swore as she carefully peeled back a layer of bandage from her right arm, still suffering from the burns she had endured after being tortured for a week straight. It had been  a number of days since then, but her arm was still healing. Normally, something like a crystal or a potion would have healed it right up, but it persisted. Mari wasn't sure why. Her pain filter long since gone the woman was used to such things but this... this was troublesome. Sitting in the back corner or her shop, with only the front counter to separate her from anyone who chose to wander in. Not that Mari had anything to worry about currently. Lancaster was on call, cleaning up any 'loose ends' just outside of Yomi, where the dwindling and charred remains of a tavern still stood, crumbling. Even from here, Mari could smell the burnt wood. And anyone else? They had died by her own hand.

Just how many more names were on the monument now? How many names are there by my hand? ten? twenty?

Mari didn't like it. But she was done trying to offer mercy and redemption to those who didn't deserve it.

"Now...where did I put that Aloe?" She asked herself, picking up random bottles and turning them over to read their labels.

WC: 479

Mari | HP: 760/760 | EN: 108/108 | DMG: 21 | MIT:143 | ACC:4 | AA  | FL.AURA: 8 | BH:42 | BRN: 56 | ENV-O: 32 | PARA-V | LD:5 | True Tier 15

Edited 6 hours ago by Mari

[Scar 0]

The air on Floor 10 had a strange stillness to it, thick, damp and filled with the faint hum of unseen things moving behind the stone. Yomi wasn't a place that welcomed travelers; it swallowed them. The deeper Jack descended, the more the world felt muted, sound, color, even thought, reduced to slow, heavy echoes under the weight of the earth.

 He kept his lantern ahead of him, so he could see the narrow path ahead. Each step stirred dust from the uneven floor, fine motes glimmering like pale sparks before fading into the dark. Crumbling structures lay half-swallowed by roots and fungi, remnants of some ancient settlement lost to time. Somewhere far above, he could almost imagine the light of other floors, bright and alive, but here, everything was hushed.

A faint chime broke through the silence. Jack stopped, the flickering interface of his HUD materializing beside him.

Alinta --> Scar: I'm by Dayurga. I'm going to try and get a familiar today! There are all these cute and creepy puppets that inhabit an abandoned house on the outskirt of the safe zone. I'm a little nervous. 

Jack exhaled softly, the corner of his mouth lifting. Even through text, he could hear her tone, half excitement, half hesitation. It wasn't like her to admit nerves. He leaned against a cold section of stone tapping out a reply.

Scar --> Alinta: I'm proud of you. Maybe I should check out Dayurga.

The glow faded, leaving him with only the flicker of his light and the sound of water dripping somewhere far away. He started walking again, careful where the floor sloped downward.

Then another ping.

Alinta --> Scar: Floor 12 is filled with marshlands...where I am is safe but...its gross. I'm going to need a bath when I get back to the inn. 

A small laugh escaped him before he could stop it, the sound oddly out of place in the oppressive quiet. And then, one more message.

Alinta --> Scar: Uouy canjoun me if oyu want.

He blinked, tilting his head. The typo made the words jumble for a second before his brain untangled them, You can join me if you want.

His breath caught. Heat rose to his face, entirely out of sync with the chill of the cavern air. He glanced over his shoulder, as though someone might have seen. No one. Just the flickering shadows.

His fingers moved before he could second-guess himself.

Scar --> Alinta: Yes I do.

He swiped the message away. The faint blue light of his HUD vanished, and the darkness pressed close again. But now, the silence didn't feel so lonely.

He adjusted his lantern and pressed onward. Somewhere ahead, beyond the mist and decay of Yomi's tunnels, was the next turn, where she would be waiting.

Not Alinta. Someone else.

A burning tang, sharp and unnatural, herbs, smoke, something chemical and bitter enough to sting his nose. It didn’t belong here, not among the rot and stone. It was human. Intentional.

He followed it, curiosity outweighing caution. The trail led down a narrow path flanked by stalagmites that shimmered faintly with crystal dust until he saw it: a tent. Big. Old. Stained like it had been through a war. The faint yellow light seeping from within looked too warm for this place, like someone had stolen a fragment of the sun and forced it to keep glowing underground.

He stopped outside. The stories came back to him then, the whispers about The Pink Pker.

He'd laughed the first time he heard the name. A killer, sure, but "pink"? What kind of murderer branded themselves like that? It sounded absurd. Adorable, even.

Now, staring at the tent and the faint shadow shifting inside, he wasn't laughing.

Jack exhaled, steadying himself before lifting the flap.

The scent inside was stronger, acrid, heavy, alive. His eyes adjusted slowly to the soft, wavering light of the firefly jars. Rugs covered the ground in mismatched layers, and shelves lined with strange vials gleamed under glass.

Then he saw her.

The woman behind the counter. Orange hair deep enough to look red in the glow. Eyes cold and bright, the kind that didn't miss much. She sat peeling back a bandage from her arm, burned, raw.

For a long moment, neither said a word.

Jack's mouth curved into something halfway between a smirk and a shield. "Guess the rumors didn't say you ran an apothecary."

He tilted his head slightly, gaze flicking toward the bubbling vials and the faint shimmer of chemicals dancing in glass. "Or is that just a cover for something else?"

The silence that followed wasn't empty. It pressed in again, heavier this time. The fireflies flickered like nervous heartbeats, and the glow caught on the faint steam rising from the mixtures behind her. 

He didn't move closer, didn't touch the hilt of the weapon he didn't yet have. Instead, he stood there, studying her with quiet, careful curiosity. 

A man who'd come to understand that monsters didn’t always hide in the dark. Sometimes, they just waited for you to open the tent flap.

* * *

WC: 851