[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 13 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.

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 32 minutes 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