[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 yesterday at 03:05 PM 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.

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.

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.

* * *

Spoiler

Scar | HP: 300/300 | EN: 48/48 | DMG: 17 | MIT: 12

WC: 851 --> 538

Edited 12 hours ago by Scar

[Mari 1]

“Hmm?” Mari glanced over at the entrance to her tent, hearing the rustle of canvas as it shifted open. In front of her, was a man she didn’t recognize. He stood tall, almost having to duck to make his way through the entrance. Dark hair, and eyes a beguiling red - although they paled in their lustre compared to her husband. He wasn’t really noteworthy, not even a weapon at his side and looked like he was dressed in some kind of beginner gear. His eyes danced around her store, as though he was surprised to see what was within it. A wanderer who got lost?

Then, came the comment.

Always with the rumours…

“Rumours? What are you-” Mari paused. Had they started up again? The whole Pink Pker bullshit? She thought she left that buried well into the past, so much death back then, each one a matter of circumstance and regret. Unlike now. There had been no regret for the lives she had added. Each one had attempted to hurt her, her husband - kids. Despicable. Her wounds are a testament to her failed mercy. Give an inch…they say. Mari was done with that.

 Maybe…that’s what had done it, the resurgence of her name on the monument of life.

The way he looked at her was cautious. Not a threat. Just in case though…Mari reached out for an antidote she had nearby, and downed the whole thing - keeping that cool and calculated cerulean gaze on the man before her, as though she were challenging him to just try and attack her.

“Guess you never caught wind of all the rumours then.” She wasn’t sure which one he had heard, the Pink Pker, the crazed alchemist. The bloodthirsty frontliner…were there new ones now too? Whatever.

Mari stood and shifted her weight to one foot. A hand on her hip, the other, her burnt arm, she lifted up as though she were inspecting her nails. “Surely you aren’t the kind to believe in rumours. Especially in a place like Aincrad. Though…if you did, you’d not be here - unless you were seeking some sort of glory for tryin’ to kill me. Or maybe, you’re just a customer.”  With a snap of her thumb against forefinger a small red ring she wore glimmered to life, and a flame appeared on her forefinger, Mari’s eyes watched it as she let it dance around for a moment before a wave of her hand extinguished it.  

“So. Which are you?”

WC: 413

[Scar 0]

For a moment, Jack wasn't sure what he expected when he stepped inside the tent, maybe a merchant, maybe a monster dressed like one. What he didn't expect was her.

The mix of burning herbs and a little sulfur filled the place but the fireflies in their jars made the space almost snug. However, the woman at the center of it seemed to cut through the light like a half-drawn sword. Her copper hair was shining and those sharp blue eyes didn’t just look at him, they evaluated him. 

'Rumours?' he'd muttered, but she'd already picked up on it. The edge in her tone told him enough: he’d stepped on a landmine without realizing it.

He froze where he stood, hands halfway raised in reflex when she downed whatever concoction she had on the table.

All the rumors? he thought, brows lifting slightly. The woman in front of him didn’t look like the kind of legend people whispered about in taverns or trade hubs. There was no bloodlust in her eyes, only calculation, and maybe something else, something quieter. Pain, perhaps. But he wasn’t about to dig into that. Not when she was still deciding whether or not he’d make a good corpse.

He took a small step back, just enough to make it clear he wasn’t here to test her patience. "It's just a cautionary tale," he said finally, voice even but not challenging. "I'm not too worried."

A faint, half-grin ghosted across his face, though his stance stayed cautious. "I was just curious about the tenth floor and caught a scent. It led me here." He lifted his hands a little higher, palms open in a gesture that was part apology, part surrender. "I'm not trying to seek that kind of glory."

The words came with a touch of humor, though there was an undercurrent of honesty beneath them. It was enough for him, in the middle of the mayhem in Aincrad, to understand when he is to act with caution.

He was about to shift his focus to the fire on her fingertip when suddenly he found himself unable to take his eyes off it, the warmth of the light brought forth a striking contrast with the cold, dim glow of the fireflies. "That's a neat trick," he said, tone easy but careful. "Though I think the last person who saw it probably didn't get to compliment you on it."

He lowered his hands and stepped slightly to the side, giving her space, never crossing the invisible line between them. The mixture of burnt herbs, iron, and something faintly floral, weird, but not unpleasant.

Jack's red eyes met hers again, steady now. "If you don't mind me asking," he said, his tone even, "Is that your way of checking if someone's going to flinch, or.. a warning?"

He didn't move closer, didn't reach for any weapon. Just stood there, studying her through the shifting light. The light from her fingertip went along the tent, the flicker catching glass cases briefly filled with crystals and the slight bubbling of her equipment.

"I've met people who hide behind their reputations," he continued after a moment, voice low but calm. "But you.. seem to be doing fine without one."

He glanced toward the entrance, half expecting to see someone, or something, lurking outside. Nothing. Just faint hum of the fireflies.

"So if you're not looking for trouble," he said quietly, "Then neither am I. I'll just take that as your way of saying I should watch my step."

* * *

WC: 588

[Mari 1]

The man took a step back. Cautious. Mari sighed as she ran a hand through her hair. She hadn’t meant to outright scare the poor bastard. But. “Good.” Mari said to him as he told her it was nothing more than a cautionary tale. “I ain’t looking to add any more names to that monument.” A pause, and a tilt of her head as her lips quirk into a sort of half smile. “Not willingly, anyway.”

Mari’s hand fell back to her side with a swing as she approached the counter that separated them, leaning her elbows on it. So he was curious enough to come to her tent, cautious enough to linger at its entrance. “Rumours are exaggerated, but - sometimes, they stem from some truth. I ain’t mad, it's fine to be cautious. Smart. So long as you don’t draw your blade at me, you’ll be peachy keen.”

An assurance that he would be safe within the confines of her little apothecary, as he put it. So long as he remained passive. Yet, equal parts warning - for if he would show aggression, and an attempt on her - she would not show mercy. No. Such a thing was a waste these days. Compassion for the few, rather than the many like her past.

Then, he said four words…
That's a neat trick,"

And she couldn’t help but laugh, the kind of laughter that shook her shoulders. “It is, isn’t it?” Mari sad as she lifted up her hand again, flashing the small ring. “I said those exact words to someone once.” There was a genuine warmth in her demeanor and words, as though the mention of such a thing was enough to shift her entire persona. Mari would wave him in. “Come, come…” She held out her hand to show him.

“Cerberus etching, in the ring - and a mix of fireproof - sometimes, all we need is the smallest of sparks to make magic happen.” Another laugh, as though it was a personal joke between her, and her alone. And it was. Because that single ring, those four simple words - had been what started everything for Mari. Had set the fates in motion between her and her now husband. What lead her to see herself in a far better light. What caused her to be captured, tortured, and essentially forced to join the Laughing Coffin. Every moment, both good and bad. Mari would not change for the world.

For it gave her Vincent.

“The last person who saw it…hmmm…..” Who had that been? Ahh. One of the former members of the Gilded Veil. “Perhaps. Yes. They’re gone. But -  I assure you that is an outlier situation.” Not that she would care if he didn’t believe her.

“It’s neither a warning, or a test…its…” Mari snapped her fingers again and looked at the flame fondly. “A comfort.” Her eyes lifted to meet his.

“I am always me. Mari. My reputation, both good and bad, precede me - so I let people make their own judgement. As long as they leave me, and the people I care about alone. I couldn’t care what they think of me.”

A wave of her hand and the flame gone.

“So, what brings you to the 10th floor? You are aware of its effects, no?” A glance at his attire. “Little green around the edges to be this high up, no?”

WC: 563

[Scar 0]

It was only for a moment, but Jack saw the small, shiny ring on her hand when she lifted it, and he could not help but look at it once more. The way it caught the firelight, the faint gleam, the deliberate way she held it, it reminded him of something else entirely. Someone else.

Alinta.

Before the thought of her could be dismissed, it was already there, accompanied by a quiet smile which he did not even realize was there. The ring, the flash, it was almost like poetry. His thoughts wire briefly to the Blackbook Ball, that strange night when everything seemed to shimmer with infinite possibilities. It wasn't just the music, or the lights, or even the laughter, it was her. The sparkle she carried wherever she went. The one that made even the darkest corners of Aincrad seem to have life.

Mari's voice drew him back. "Sometimes, all we need is the smallest of sparks to make magic happen."

He nodded, the faintest grin tugging at his lips. "Yeah," he said softly, more to himself than to her. "Guess that's true."

He stepped forward when she waved him in, his boots making only the faintest sound against the mismatched rugs. The air smelled of fireflies and faint ash, the bubbling vials on her counter popped quietly, like they were breathing with the room.

"I couldn't care what they think of me," she said. He looked up at her. His smile was assured and clear this time. "That's good," he said and his voice was calm and low. "You shouldn't care what people say. It's no way to living."

He meant it. Too many players built their lives around fear, of dying, of reputation, of each other. It was exhausting. Whatever she'd done, she was still here, standing in her own space, unflinching. There was something respectable about that.

Then came her next words, curious, probing. "So, what brings you to the 10th floor? You are aware of its effects, no?"

He blinked once, tilting his head slightly. "What effects?"

Almost shyly, he said and rubbed his neck with his hands before he went on. "I think I should have looked into more stuff before coming here."

Thinking of it, with his thumb and forefinger under his chin, he said. "Something about giant glowing mushrooms and mazes, right?" with a small lopsided smirk, he looked at her and asked, "Should I be worried?"

The jest was present, quiet, not being scornful, but it still held a line of truth. He wasn't pretending to know more than he did.

"I'm trying to get a hang of these things," he added after a beat, gesturing vaguely toward the gear on his back. "I have to get stronger." His gaze dropped to the worn leather of his gloves, then to the basic armor that had seen better days.

"Although.." He chuckled lightly, glancing up again. "I may need to get a few pieces of equipment first."

* * *

WC: 496

[Mari 1]

The man lingered in the entrance a little longer, before finally crossing that threshold into her quaint little store. Long strides lead him past the dusty wares on shelves and in front of her; on the opposite side of the counter. Closer now, she could see a scar over his eye, faint smile lines - and his dark hair an absolute chaotic mess. “I really don’t.” Mari responded, opening up her HUD and pulling out a bottle of Sullivans Cove Whiskey, and a single glass. For her. Not for him. “I used to. But it nearly drove me mad, and landed me a number of years in a cold dark cell. I wasn’t living.” Mari poured the amber liquid into her glass with a clink. Set the bottle down, then drank half the contents of the glass. Almost as though she was showing through her actions she was done living that way.

A long sigh. “This floor is dangerous. Lakes of Acid, pools of still water.” A pause, then an explanation in case he were not aware. “Filled with flesh eating bacteria.” She tilted her head. Did…he really not know? Mari repeated the words, as though she had done so a hundred times before hand, a hundred warnings to a hundred players.

“Players who visit this floor find themselves afflicted by an oppressive malaise that can quickly sour into full blown depression.  Some reports suggest that prolonged exposure can lead to dementia, or even outright insanity and the negative thoughts and emotions that pervade the entire floor relentlessly assault the minds and convictions of those who come to visit.”

Mari paused to finish off her glass, leaving a length of silence as she refilled it once more, to take another several sips. Straight, hard liquor. She wanted to give him enough time to mull over the words. Too many people came here seeking the quiet beauty of the floor. Too many had fallen sway to it. Herself, Azhoda, those within Laughing Coffin.

“Tracking don’t work either… so its the perfect floor for those with… nefarious purposes. Call it hypocritical. But you shouldn’t trust anyone you meet on this floor. Yet here you stand before me, so..”  A pause and a grin over her glass as she bought it to her lips. “Maybe a lil worried. Yeh.”
 

It was the only thing she could do to keep people safely away from the Laughing Coffin, not interfering in their affairs, but ensuring others wouldn’t fall victim to them the best way she could.

“Stronger? Why? You gonna go join the frontlines?” Mari asked, not that she cared - quite frankly. Mari was perfectly fine with living out whatever days she had left within the digital castle. As long as she had Lancaster. But, she told herself she’d do her part, at the very least. If he planned to join, she’d offer him some semblance of help and direction. He clearly needed it.

[Scar 0]

Jack listened in silence.

Each word Mari spoke seemed to weigh heavier than the last. Lakes of acid. Flesh-eating bacteria. Depression. Insanity. Although it was not the sort of thing people would generally talk about in such a direct way, the way she delivered it, flat, matter-of-fact, made it feel real in a way no player manual warning could ever come close to.

He swallowed, visualizing everything: a place that not just hurt you physically, but psychologically invades your mind and yours your own thoughts against you. A kind of environment that could twist a moment of weakness into a permanent wound.

Alinta..

What if she was here? He imagined her here, her laugh, her warmth, her unrelenting curiosity. Then, what if a place like this distorted those things and turned them into something sinister? That thought alone made his chest tighten. He didn't want to see her smile fade because of something like this.

Quietly he, though without much humor behind it, chuckled. "Sounds like the kind of place that digs into you," he said in a low voice which was barely audible. "Takes what's already broken and finds a way to make it worse."

He took a slow breath, then let it out through his nose. "But.. I can't let that scare me away. If I run every time something feels wrong, I'll never get better." His gaze dropped to the floor, to the overlapping rugs and scattered glass bottles reflecting the firelight. "I'll stay."

There was a silence after that. The next words came slower, quieter, like he was steadying himself mid-thought. "I've spent enough time running from the things that scare me."

He forced the corner of his mouth up in a half-smile, more out of discipline than optimism.

His demeanor was very different when she talked about tracking not being possible. The nervous edge disappeared. He looked back toward the entrance of the tent, the gloom outside stretching endlessly beyond the firefly glow. A place where nobody could find you. Nobody could call for help.

This wasn't a floor to joke around in. Not with the kind of people who hid here. He could imagine what those type of people looked like. 'There must have been a few of them there.. Hiding behind their masks.. Behind the laughter. The emptiness that smiled while they killed.'

He nodded once, a small, measured motion. "Guess that means no shortcuts here," he said quietly. "If I'm going to walk this floor, I'll have to stay sharp."

Then she asked the question. Simple, but loaded.

"Stronger? Why? You gonna go join the frontlines?"

Jack turned his back toward the tent's entrance. "That's one goal," he admitted. His voice was calm, but the words carried a quiet weight. "There's someone I want to meet on the outside."

He hesitated for a moment, then turned back toward her, that serious edge softening just slightly.

"But also.." His tone gentled. "There's someone I have to protect."

The words hung there for a moment, honest and unguarded. He didn't name her. He didn't need to.

Follow that, with a small chuckle that showed his full awareness of the situation, he said, "Though, maybe I should start with survive this floor first."

* * *

WC: 538

[Mari 1]

The man fell quiet, his eyes wandered- and so did his mind. Mari didn’t question it, it was a lot to take in, especially for someone who seemed to have just started exploring the upper floors. Most people didn’t believe it, not till it happened to them. If they didn’t heed Mari’s warning, it was no longer her problem. The woman was over trying to help people who didn’t listen. She barely wanted to help in general. 

This man though, actually seemed to consider her words. “Hit the nail on the head.” A wave of her glass as she took another drink. “I speak from experience, but hey.” She shrugged. “Take what I say with a grain of salt. Your choice to believe me. I won’t lose sleep over it.”

The man seemed to find some sort of inner resolution. Great for him, Mari guessed. But she didn’t know why he said he’d stay. Mari gave him a confused look. “The hell you wanna stay here for? I don’t know you. I don’t even know your name”

Mari had already introduced herself, he hadn’t. His thoughts elsewhere, but Mari knew that look. The wistful way eyes wander. The way your hand would subconsciously find its way to your heart. Yeh, he had someone special. Didn’t take a genius to figure that one out. “If someone is after you -” Mari followed his gaze out her door. “Don’t bring it here.” Mari put down her glass and tapped her burnt arm a few times. “I’ve had enough trouble for a hot minute.” A snort at her own morose joke.

There was silence, how much should she tell him? “The people on this floor…” She began quietly. “Some of them prey on that weakness. They’ll try to twist it, twist you- so whoever you’re thinkin’ of. Make sure that don’t happen to them.”

He may have more questions, but Mari wasn’t sure she could answer them. Instead, she sighed and opened up her HUD, dropping several things onto the counter. “Yer gonna need Col, and Materials if you want equipment. IF you want the real fancy shit…thats something you gotta work for I ain’t a fucking charity.” Despite her words, she even threw in a few things from her store onto the pile.

Keeping her promise to Raidou, to Oscar. To Baldur.

“Welcome to the beginning of the frontlines. Stranger. Don’t thank me, thank Jacobs Ladder.”

This would make up for some of the deaths she caused...Right?

-Mari drops 40k Col
-Mari Drops 20 Materials

Mari Drops:
Tierless Salve 252567 | 'The Good Stuff' | Antidote III

Tierless Salve  252568 | 'The Good Stuff' | Antidote III
Perfect Tierless Potion | 'Ouchie Wa Wa' | Dam III | 252191
Rare Tierless Dessert 252115 | White Macadamia Cookie | EVA II

[Scar 0]

"The hell you wanna stay here for? I don't know you. I don't even know your name."

He blinked, then laughed under his breath. It wasn't a mocking sound, more a nervous release, like tension being cut. "I'm sorry," he said, catching his breath as the edges of his anxiety melted into something warmer. "Mm.. You can call me Scar."

He almost, instinctively, extended his hand to greet her but stopped somewhat. There was a short moment of awkwardness before he dropped it again. "Old habit," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

After that, he partially turned towards the swamp outside her tent but Mari's following words had him sticking there.

"Some of them prey on that weakness. They'll try to twist it, twist you- so whoever you're thinkin' of. Make sure that doesn't happen to them."

That hit deeper than she probably meant it to. Jack turned back toward her, red eyes steady now. "That's why I have to be stronger," he said simply. His tone wasn't defiant, it was grounded, resolute.

He was already half-way through turning again, but the sound of something faintly hitting the counter made him stay still. His eyes looked down quickly, to the Col, the materials, and some stuff she'd tossed there carelessly, as though she didn't care.

He blinked, momentarily stunned. "But.. you're not a charity.." he whispered, half to himself. The words came out small, uncertain, like he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. He stepped closer, cautious, reverent even, as though afraid the items might vanish if he reached too quickly.

"These would really help me get stronger?" he said softly. The disbelief in his voice is slowly being replaced by gratitude, the one that is not loud, but sincere enough to be felt.

There was a break in the silence from Mari's side:

"Welcome to the beginning of the Frontlines, Stranger. Don't thank me, thank Jacob's Ladder."

He looked up at her, a bit lost. Jacob's Ladder? Maybe this Jacob is someone famous. Perhaps Jacob and Ladder are partners.. But Ladder? What a strange name.. The thought came into his mind and then he shook his head with a slight smile.

"Thank you, Mari." he said, tone gentle but firm. "You seem like you hate people on the outside, but really.." His smile widened a touch, "You're a really nice person."

His gaze dropped to the pile of supplies again. "I haven't met this Ladder fella, so you'll have to take the gratitude." He flashed her a crooked smile, half teasing, half genuine.

Slowly, he started to gather the items, taking his time as if each piece meant something more than just resources. "I'll pay you back for these," he said quietly, almost to himself. "After all, you're helping me protect her."

The name went unspoken, but the softness in his eyes made it clear enough.

After a pause, Scar looked up back at her. "If I'm really gonna make something of myself out here," he said, "What would you recommend? How'd you get strong enough to survive this long?"

He leaned his elbows lightly against the counter, genuinely curious. "I can swing a blade, sure, but half the time it feels like the only thing I'm fighting is myself. You've been around. You've seen the worst of it. How'd you keep from losing yourself?"

He studied her carefully as he spoke, his tone respectful, not prying, someone who wanted to learn, not intrude. "If I'm going to face the floors like this, I'd rather learn from someone who's made it this far."

* * *

Scar obtained:
40,000 Col
20x Materials
2x Tierless Salve | The Good Stuff | Antidote III - #252567 #252568
1x Perfect Tierless Potion | Ouchie Wa Wa | DAM III - #252191
1x Rare Tierless Dessert | White Macadamia Cookie | EVA II - #252115

WC: 597

[Mari 1]

 

Scar. Mari couldn’t help but roll her eyes at his name, she didn’t voice her dislike at it. But it was evident she didn’t exactly approve of it either. Her eyes shifted to the scar on his face.Typical. Honestly, she was surprised she hadn’t run into something like that sooner. Then again, she had killed someone called BallBlaster.

He extended his hand to shake and Mari went to offer her own but he quickly pulled away. Apologizing. “Damn.” Mari said as she let her hand rest on the counter instead. She wasn’t hurt by the action, it was clear she still made him nervous. “I don’t bite. I mean. I do, but not you.” A tilt of her head. “You aren’t my type.”

Then, as if his ears were burning, Mari received a message from Lancaster, her husband.

Lancaster → Mari: Is good? I’ve finished my business.
Mari → Lancaster: Yes. Dealing with a customer.
Lancaster → Mari: I will be there soon, wait outside. Just in case.

Mari smiled as she deleted the messages, and waved away the HUD. Lancaster had been stuck to her, almost like glue since she had been returned from her confinement. She was much the same to him. Gods she loved that man.

“Hmm?”  Mari didn’t quite catch the charity comment. But she caught the question that followed. “I mean, not inherently. But shit costs money. I just so happen to have so much of it I don’t know what to do with it all.”

"-You're a really nice person."

“I won’t pretend to be a good person. I’m not. I just do what needs to be done. I’ll let the gods judge me when I die.” Mari had learned not to completely rebuke compliments when given to her, but she wasn't about to let Scar think she was some kind of saintess. Mari lifted her glass, and pointed it to the outside. “By the way, my husbands outside. Don’t be alarmed when you pass him.” And with that she took another drink, then spluttered it out with his next words.

Ain’t no way this mother fucker things Ladder is a person.

“It’s a guild, idiot. Jacobs Ladder. It’s job is to yanno…” Mari waved a single finger up and down. “Help people climb up the tower, or something. I don’t know. I was one of its founding members, but stepped back after being in Jail. Now its run by some bleeding heart Katana weilding Ronin… good man though. He wanted me to try and bring people in or at least offer help to others. He helped me, so I’m doing him a solid.."

 

tMari waved him off when Scar said he’d pay her back. “I doubt you’d ever have anything I’d want or need, at best - I’ll keep in mind to call in a favour if i ever need one.” Mari doubted she’d ever even run into the man again after this, Aincrad was a big place.

Then came the questions, one after the other. Spoken with a quiet and well thought out precision. Mari sighed as she turned her back on Scar, grabbed her chair from her work bench and dragged it over to the counter. Then she sat in it. He could stay standing, but she sure as hell wasn’t.

“That’s a lot of loaded questions that don’t really have straight answers, Scar. Go find someone who deals in information for the first one. I ain’t got the energy for that.”

Mari pulled out a second glass, this time pouring Scar one, then herself her third drink. 

“I’ve been thrown in jail. I’ve seen my daughter die. And I’ve been brutally tortured. I have lost myself. So I can’t tell you how not to. And it seems like you already have an answer on how to ground yourself at the very least.” Mari alluded to whoever it was he was fighting for.

“That person though, your greatest strength and weakness. The man outside is the reason I was tortured. But he is also the reason I am here now.”

[Scar 0]

Mari's word left Jack completely bewildered from some time as he was unable to understand her logic at all. "I won't pretend to be a good person. I'm not. I just do what needs to be done. I'll let the Gods judge me when I die."

"Helping doesn't need to be done by good people," he said at last, his voice low but firm. "Bad people don't just help people." He sighed, shaking his head slightly as if trying to piece her contradictions together. "If anyone asked me, I'd say you were a nice person."

Jack's voice was absolutely sincere. Just quiet conviction. He wasn't trying to flatter her, he genuinely believed it. 

When she mentioned her husband waiting outside, Jack tilted his head. "Alarmed? Why would I be alar-" He froze mid-sentence when Mari's next words hit him.

"It's a guild, idiot. Jacob's Ladder..."

Jack blinked once before bursting into laughter. It wasn't mocking, just the kind of laugh that came from embarrassment mixed with disbelief. "Ah, yes. Of course, a guild!" He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to regain some composure. "Still.. you're the only connection to the guild as far as I know, so my gratitude still goes to you."

When she waved him off and mentioned calling in a favor someday, Jack's expression softened. He met her eyes, tone steady with quiet conviction. "Whatever I can do within my power. I'll be sure to be there."

He meant it. Not because he thought he'd ever be called upon, but because promises carried weight in this world. People were fragile here, every word seemed to echo louder, last longer.

As Mari continued, answering his barrage of question, Jack listened carefully. Every word she spoke, he mentally filed away, the kind of attention born from habit, from needing to understand what others knew that he didn't. His eyes remained on her as she pulled up a second glass and poured him one. The gesture made him pause for a moment before reaching out to accept it.

Then came her words:

"I've been thrown in jail. I've seen my daughter die. And I've been brutally tortured. I have lost myself."

Jack froze. The weight behind her voice was suffocating, heavy with memory, thick with pain. His fingers tightened around the glass, and for a moment he forgot to breathe.

'She watched her own daughter die..?' He thought, his mind stumbing over the words. 'Tortured..?'

He used to hear only rumors, about players who snapped, about the kind of things that happened when survival stripped people bare, but now, hearing it like this, directly from someone sitting across from him, was quite different.

He gulped down nervously and his voice was even lower than before, "No.."

His gaze fell to the counter, then slowly lifted back to meet hers, red eyes burning with something between fear and resolve. "How do I stop that from happening to-" He caught himself, the name lingering on his tongue. He didn't say it aloud.

"Anyone else," he finished, through the truth was obvious.

He meant her.

There was silence after that, just the low hum of the tent and the faint clink of glass. His question wasn't born from curiosity anymore. It was desperation, thinly veiled beneath composure.

Jack gradually loosened his grip. He took a sip of the drink she'd poured him, the taste sharp and unfamiliar. His voice dropped to a near whisper.

"I don't ever want to see that happen.. not to anyone I care about."

* * *

WC: 587

[Mari 1]

Mari’s words softened as she lowered her gaze to her glass. Her thumbs running over the rim of it. “Wow. So you really haven’t heard those rumours. Huh.” She closed her eyes, her head lilting to the side in thought. “Maybe. Your attitude would change if you did know. But -“ her words were left there, choosing not to continue. He didn’t need to hear about her daughter. The tragic circumstances behind it. The reason for the Pink Pker rumours. All things better left unsaid for the moment.

People don’t just help people

Maybe he was right. Mari was doing this not because she cared about what happened to him, but because of a promise to a few friends. Almost out of an obligation. 

 

“As for why you should be alarmed-”

As if he was waiting, right on cue - Lancaster burst into the tent, in a quite literal puff of flames- they lit the tent on fire, but quickly fizzled out, and a strong chemical smell permeated in the air. Mari had doused her shop in flame repellant. Above his head floated a bright orange crystal.  “Mi Amore~” He spoke with a thick Italian accent, red hair combed back. Red eyes, tired as they scanned the small shop. They landed on Scar. “Ah, still with…” he paused as he took a long drag of his cigarette and exhaled. “The customer.” Spoken in a dismissive tone.

“That. Now… One moment…” Mari stood and placed a hand on Scars shoulder as she stepped past him. There was a tingle in the back of her neck, one of doubt. Was this Lancster? Was this actually her husband? As if he knew what Mari was going to do Lancaster stepped toward Mari, a big sheepish grin on his face.

“Do what you must.”

And Mari did just that, roughly grabbing him by his collar, jamming a thumb into his mouth so she could inspect it. Back wisdom tooth missing, good. Tongue ring, good. Then a glance into his eyes. Two flecks of green in his right one. Good. This was Her Lancaster. Mari let him go. The scene must have looked quite odd to Scar. So Mari stepped to the side, her hand still on her partner's chest.

“Fact of the matter is. You cant. What you can do though…is make sure you’re strong enough to take out the trash - and fix the problem that arises. You-mmpf.” Her eyes widened as Lancaster spun her around and placed his lips against hers. Possessively wrapping his arms around her waist, coiling them tight. His eyes shifted over to Scar. Almost challenging him, then they drifted back to Mari and softened. He smiled through the kiss and it was clear that he paused to inhale deeply, shifting his nose to breath in the scent of her hair. 

“Still here Coglione?”

 

“It’s my business.” Mari chastised, and it was only then that Lancaster seemed to back down. He gave a disapproving tch and pulled a fresh cigarette from his pocket, lighting it up with a snap of his thumb and forefinger.

A neat trick.

“I hope it doesn’t happen to anyone you care about, Scar. But, knowing this world. It has a nasty habit of throwing that kind of fairy tale hope into peoples faces. You know where I am. If something arises”

Not exactly a promise to help, but not a denial either.

For Mari knew all too well how cruel this world was.

WC: 576