PP F2: 'Golden Honey'

[Mari 1]

It was dusk, twilight, once Mari's favourite time of day. But now - it was only a time that bought regret and bitter, forlorn memories for the pink haired woman. She sat atop a tree stump, protruding from the ground amongst a field of yellow dandelions. Ablaze in the orange hues of the setting sun. One leg stood firmly on the ground, a black, heeled boot wedged into the soft earth. The other  was bent, held up against her chest. Mari had her chin atop her knee, dull blue eyes staring at a small vial she held in her hands.

As Mari slowly span the vial, the blood-orange liquid in it shifted from side to side. Mari had come down here to collect more blue butterfly wings to create more of this....'Calming Honey' but she hadn't realized the time, and the bright lights of a floor that wasn't in perpetual darkness...the golden amber of the sky. It made her feel somewhat melancholy. 

Not that the woman would be foolish enough to drink her own concoction, Mari just no longer had the heart to go material hunting any more. The floor was dead at this time of day, most normal players were scuttling back to the city to find shelter; and a warm bed to sleep in. Most avoided her, few had attempted to approach the blazing pink silhouette; but upon seeing her orange marker they quickly hustled along their way. 

Mari pursed her lips, she was enjoying the armth of the sun on her bare shoulders; legs and arms; it was a pleasant change from the dark, dank cavern of the 10th floor; still, she couldn't help but feel completely out of place here.

[Locke 0]

However long he had been walking- he couldn't be entirely sure. It might've been a few hours, but it could have just as easily been a day. The minutes had a tendency to fade into hours, but sometimes they doubled back. In the old days, he would have simply skipped through the drabber portions. Or more appropriately- stumbled through them, instead.

But gone were the days of that gentle magic. Instead, they had been replaced by a harsher reality; it was one which cursed him with crippling sobriety. That was not to say that he didn't appreciate those moments of clarity. But to carry on in that way indefinitely, was a frightening thing.

At first, he had been willing to overlook the shadows that came with those waking slumbers. To him, they were no different from sleep. A way to rest; the two were one and the same. For all of their drawbacks, to go completely without seemed insane. Preach to the waking man the benefits of wakefulness. See how long he can go without a break. There's nothing wrong with sleep. And yet, here he was. Stuck in a world with a distinct lack of what he had once known.

He shuffled through the endless field against the backdrop of the setting sun.

If there was anything in on this floor that gave him joy, it was the way the vegetation felt against his bare feet. Blades of grass along with the occasional dandelions- they brushed against his toes as he drudged onward. He almost felt regretful for snapping and crunching so many of them underfoot, with such little care.

From the corner of his eye, he became vaguely aware that he was not alone. He snapped his gaze up and laid it upon the female player, sitting atop a lonely stump.

He approached the woman, slowly but surely. Eventually, he came to a stop within arm's length of the female player, and eyed her up and down. He nearly recoiled from the feelings that oozed from her presence, but likened them to be familiar enough, all things considered. He cursor was orange, but what was a little more orange to this warm scene?

He knelt down and plucked the lone pink blossom that stood in this sea of yellow. As he stood back up, he offered her a smile. "You look like you could use this," said Locke. "No offense, I mean." He looked at the object, then back to her. "Take it," he insisted, holding it out.

[Mari 1]

"Mmm?" Mari lazily shifted her gaze to the side, her thin brows furrowed from the suns dazzling light, burning her eyes- the thought of a tale, etched in the flow of time came to her mind. A cautionary tale of Icarus- who flew too close to the sun and was burned. Someone stood before her, shadowed at first; but she noticed small things. Amber eyes? Short dark hair; in a tousled mess. Mari felt her heart stop in her chest as her eyes widened in a mixture of disbelief and recognition. "Alk-" She stopped herself, as her eyes focused, readjusting to the light. No, it wasn't him. It couldn't be. Death was final in this game. Mari turned her gaze back to the vial, somehow - if it were possible. She had felt worse than she did before. She was burned by the cards fate had dealt her. She confided in her departed....Lover? Partner? 

Mari couldn't even place a description on the relationship that her and Alkor shared, it was brief, but she had confided in him, his warmth - his eyes the color of twilight, of a golden honey - his touch, it was all gone -Void. 

It was easy when she had distractions,and it was easy to forget the heartache and how lost she had become, Mari wasn't even sure who Mari any more. She was simply going through the motions of existing. Every so often having a rush of unwarranted and unwanted emotion. Mari hated herself for that, she wasn't a child. She was an adult, she should have better control of herself.

His voice broke the silence, and again - her aquamarine eyes travelled over to the youth before her. "A flower?" Mari asked sceptically, looking at the delicate pink flower in  his hand. Mari continued to absently twirl the vial between her two fingers, "Normally, one would say I have enough pink on me, don't you think?" She asked, she was met with resistance. A man, too stubborn to back down, or perhaps too stupid to take a hint.  Mari reached out, picking the flower from his hands.

She stared at it; it was out of place here, just as she was. A small smirk formed on her lips as she slowly inhaled - then exhaled, crumpling it up in her hand - allowing the broken petals to fall to the floor. What did he expect to happen? For her to swoon and offer him some sort of thanks? Mari was never one to react well to such notions from strangers.

"Shouldn't you be heading back to the safety of the town?"   Mari asked, after an extended period of silence, shifting her body so that she was facing him. Leaving the vial of 'Calming Honey' resting on the stump next to her.

[Locke 0]

He arched a brow as the girl acknowledged his presence. "Expecting someone else?" he asked, punctuating the question with a breathy chuckle. There was no Alk- here of any sort. Just him, and her. And that was it.

"Ah," he spoke, voicing a low sigh. "So you're that type. Should've guessed." He stood idly and watched as the woman lay waste to his figurative olive branch. It was a waste of a perfectly good flower, though the blossom had served its purpose as a litmus test of sorts.

There was never really a proper way to begin this sort of thing. And even if there was, he had never learned it, nor did he wish to. There was a certain element in these games of improvisation that never failed to intrigue him. The game of fast pace and quick wits- that was his game. Not Sword Art Online.

His eyes caught sight of the vial that dangled from her slender fingers, and watched as the glass twirled between them. The vial itself was a deep, yet vivid color; he imagined it as the blood of some strange creature. He could almost picture it dripping from such a creature- draining from its wounds in its bloody shade of orange. But as for the liquid it held? He could only guess.

"You can spare me the condescending remarks," Locke remarked. "If there were anything interesting about it at all, I'm sure you'd be there, instead of here."

He followed the vial with his eyes yet again as it came to rest upon the stump, then let them wander back to the pink-haired woman. "Not all of us belong in towns," he murmured, letting his own amber eyes mix with the cerulean of hers. Her own inability to do this was not lost on him.

[Mari 1]

The sudden change in his persona; albeit slight; was enough to pique Mari's interest. As he gave a breathy sigh - insinuating that she was that type. "Oh? And just what type is that?" Mari asked, glancing away if only for the slightest of moments- as he questioned if she was expecting someone else, "No, just reminiscing about those who are dead."  It was unclear what tone her voice took on, it was only noted that it was strained. Mari shook her head, shifting her thoughts elsewhere.

 

Now was not the time to be so dreary. Instead - Mari chose to rebute his new find ire with more of her own."Spare you them? But they're so much fun, don't you think?" Mari added in a sly tone. "Don't you just love gauging people's reactions?" She asked, unwittingly stating exactly what his intentions were; Mari was smart; but not always able to catch onto situations quickly. This instance was one of those times. 

The next instance, however, was one of those times. Mari noticed he kept on eyeing off the 'Calming Honey' she had. Mari swiflty picked it up, "That's just an Alchemy experiment. It's addictive junk you don't need to be trifling with. Then again- you shouldn't be doing that with me either, yet here you still stand." Mari opened up her HUD, allowing him to read the effects of the 'Calming Honey'

 

"I find my new found Alchemy amusing; call it callous, cold-hearted if you will, I want to push the boundaries of this game - what sort of effects can they hold on the mind? It's all virtual, everything we taste, do touch, see - its all a fabrication. Yet our minds are able to make it all so...real. "

Mari gave a small smile as her eyes focused on the liquid in the vial as she dangled it, swinging it like a pendulum back and forth in front of the man; "Just how much can I play with that, in this little, virtual, world." She whispered. Turning her eyes back to lock with his.
 

[Locke 0]

Even taken in isolation, her words offered a glimpse into the nature of their speaker. All in all, he had been left with a decent number of elements to pick apart- intuition could only take him so far. But in the end, he focused on one aspect in particular; she had made a direct reference to death. From his experiences, he could recall a strong tendency for people to resort to euphemisms in these cases. It was always something like, 'passed away', or a vague allusion to 'a better place'. Sure, societal expectations played a role in these phrases, no doubt; people tended to avoid actively seeking out a reputation for callousness.

So if that were the case, was she simply cold-hearted? This was a possibility that he easily crossed off of his list. In spite of the value of her words, it would be a gross oversight to ignore their context.

Her comment had been kept brief, and was tinged with weariness and perhaps a trace of regret; she had left the subject as quickly as it had it come up, akin to the girl that pokes her toe into the pool, only to make a hasty retreat upon finding it cold. A fresh wound, perhaps? Not to mention the shake of the head that had followed soon after, which was certainly in line with his pet theory.

And what of the wide-eyed look she'd worn when he'd first appeared? Maybe for a moment, she had pegged him as someone else. Just maybe. Of course, there was a chance that he was reaching, but it would be a cold day in hell before he proved completely baseless.

After reconciling the letter and spirit of her remarks, a story began to take shape in his mind. In it, he saw a woman that had lost everything. In fact, her losses had been quite recent- leaving her scrambling to pick up the pieces in a field as quiet as it was forsaken, and bared an uncanny resemblance to the one in which they stood.. The woman, in her grief, attempts to distance herself from her recent misfortunes (hence her curious frankness- an attempt to embrace a front which would allow just this), but fails to do so in a convincing manner. This was the gist of what he had seen and felt, and it had wracked his body with a horrible vengeance.

Though he had long since developed a desensitization toward untimely death, the ensuing emotions gripped him as if they were his very own. His head was spinning- his knees, feeble and weak- and the experience as a whole left him faint of breath. It never got any easier, this thing of his. In all likelihood, it never would. Perhaps it would cease after he had known the agony of a thousand lifetimes. In spite of it all, he held himself steady, and willed his body to give away nothing. He left the comment alone, for the time being.

"I could tell you all about that type if that was what I wanted, but I think it would be a waste of time for me to repeat what we both already know," declared Locke, in a level tone. He lowered himself back to the ground and seated himself seiza-style, before shifting his legs; he allowed one to stretch freely forward, while the other bent in a way that placed his knee pointing toward the warm skies above. Atop of the clothed peak, he rested his forearm.

"If that's your idea of fun, I'm starting to get an idea of why I found you sitting on a stump in the middle of nowhere," Locke remarked snidely. Hearing her next comment, he raised his eyes back to the woman, fully expecting to be greeted with a haughty knowing look. Instead, he allowed a slight curl of his lips and snickered. "Yes," he answered, deliberately neglecting to specify which of the questions he had answered.

He watched in silence as the materialized the HUD, which displayed information about her tweak of alchemy. As you drink it, you feel very warm and calm. He swallowed and allowed his eyes to hover over the text for another moment before flicking them back to the vial itself. He stared at the concoction for perhaps the slightest bit too long before pushing the screen aside. It dangled in front of him oh-so temptingly, but he forced himself to look away. It could wait until later.

"Believe me when I say I appreciate your sentiments, but fly too close and you might get burned." It was uncharacteristic of him, that warning. Of all the people to warn of the dangers of mind-altering substances, he was the last person on earth one would expect to join their ranks. Maybe it was the clarity afforded him by this sobriety, or perhaps it was the residual sympathy he felt for the young woman.

After a moment of silence, Locke locked eyes with the mysterious girl yet another time. With setting sun, his eyes caught the warm light in a way that made them appear golden.

"What was he like?" he asked, his voice confined to a low hush. He didn't clarify, but from what he had pieced together, he wouldn't have to. It was a risky move, but he wagered that it was the only card in his hand worth playing. She had kept him around this long, after all. Who was to say that she hadn't secretly been hoping for somebody to pass by?

[Mari 1]

Locke replied to her; in a level, calm tone - replying with a simple statement. That such trivial matters would be a waste of time. He didn't skip a beat, he didn't need to pause to contemplate his words, he just spoke, perhaps he was akin to Mari in the sense that he didn't always think before speaking. Or perhaps this stranger was smarter than Mari gave him credit for. The woman, aloof, often mistrusted others - and placed them beneath her. Without meaning to. It was a habit she had formed as of late. Perhaps the carefree attitudes and smiles of others just created feelings of bitter resentment within the woman.

 

The stranger invited himself to sit down, despite the light growing darker by the minute; his earlier comment seemed to not only be aimed at Mari, he could have been speaking of his own feelings of  displacement within the town. It was not uncommon for people to feel disconnected with each other in this game. Many still refused to leave the starting city, fearful. Mobs weren't feared, it was people. Humans. Their unpredictability, essentially people feared the unknown, and being forced to dance with those foreign entities and nuances? It unnerved those with weaker resolves.

Another snappy come back. Mari shrugged; replying with brutal honesty. "After you've killed your own daughter, and watched a man you cared for killed - your sense of self is sort of...mmm shattered, what I do is a twisted sense of amusement. You could say I am bitter, and angry at the world around me. Foolishly placing blame upon those who are otherwise innocent. But I have to wonder-" 

She answered  his snide with barbed words of her own, venomous tones dripping from her tongue; "What kind of person that makes you - to not only hear my words, but choose to take a seat in the company of such depravity, I don't buy your amiable guise.

 

Amber eyes, curious and longing read over the text; soaking up the information with a sort of restrained feverishness.  Mari bit her lip, hiding an amused smirk as he quoted the exact scenario that came to her mind moments before. "I wouldn't be stupid enough to willingly use my own creations." Mari said simply. "It's a 'happiness potion' really. I have depression droughts too - ah, and toxic water, its only a game."  

The last sentence was spoken with abhorrent hate, her hand curled into the wood of the stump, clawing it, knuckles slightly shaking. The mere phrase irked her beyond belief. Mari gave a bitter laugh, throwing her head back before using her hands to push her wild hair back behind her ears. "He is dead, no use dwelling on the past - think I'm going to open up to someone who hasn't even the courtesy of stating his name?" 

Mari spun on the stump, throwing herself to the floor beside the amber eyed man in a fake swoon, her words just as hateful and toxic as they were earlier. "Oh my how romantic."  


There was then a silence, as Mari lay there, amongst the field of yellow dandelions, swaying softly in the gentle summer breeze. Her hand over her forehead, and the other laying gently over her stomach. Her eyes focused on the sky above. That colour It was difficult to look at. Mari could play the callous, cold hearted depraved card all she wanted, Mari felt she was turning more and more into such a thing; but moments like this? Glimpses into a past she wanted to forget?

Mari's took a deep breath. Her voice small. "He was cold." She muttered, before finally exhaling. "But he kept me sane."

[Locke 0]

Vitriol poured out from between rosy lips; it was not so much a rushing river as it was a pool of pent up misery- one which had lost patience for those who had dammed it. As it flowed forth, it threatened sweep him up in its tumultuous current and made every effort to drown him within its venom.

But if she had been trying to get a rise out of him, she'd failed in that regard. Neither Locke's placid expression, nor his measured disposition showed even the slightest sign of corrosion. If anything, her pointed accusations amused him. Her mentions of the deaths were regrettable on some level, though this was mitigated in part through her inadvertent confirmation of his suspicions. His eye glinted with a sight twinkle and he sighed with a shake of his head.

"You can go ahead and put away that purse of yours," said Locke, with a shrug, "because I'm not trying to sell you anything." He simpered coyly before returning to a closed-lipped smile. "Swear to god. What you see is what you get." He swiped a thumb across his chest for effect.

If he had been sitting down, no doubt he would've been at the edge of his seat as she spoke of the other goodies she'd whipped up. So instead, he simply leaned forward with furrowed brows. On the other hand, he would have to pass on the toxic water. If I'm going to poison my own body, I'd prefer for it to be a side effect and not the selling point. That said, some of the things he'd tried in the past could only be described as downright head scratchers. But hey, everybody had their highs and lows. Emphasis on the crests and the troughs.

Her next remark left him wondering what he'd done to earn such ire. Sure, he wasn't exactly being mister personality, but the reaction seemed disproportionate for anything he said. Her fingers dug into the wooden pulp, and yet he still couldn't recall referencing the offending phrase during their conversation. Blunt words followed, shedding light on the significance of the ones they had preceded.

To be fair, he'd pegged the odds of his play's success as being roughly equivalent to the odds of its failure. Her reaction would merely be a minor setback. He closed his eyes and ran a steady hand through his locks and began to consider his next plan of action. He could feel the seasonal breeze rustle his hair like a whisper, and had it been another time, he might have even stopped to sway in its fragile embrace.

Locke's eyes fluttered open and he opened his mouth to speak, but stopped when the women abdicated her timber throne and cast herself onto the ground beside him. "Well be still, my beating heart," he muttered, as she took her place amongst the flowers. In a way, the scene was reminiscent of the pink blossom that had once stood in her place.

For a time, nothing was said. Finally, she spoke up with little more than a whisper. Her words were brief and concise- but they would serve as the rock on which he built this church.

He didn't move from his spot on the ground- just bowed his head in contemplation. "Locke," he said, casting a downward glance. "My name is Locke," he repeated. "You opened up," he clarified, "so I thought I'd do you the courtesty, and state my name."

[Mari 1]

Cerulean orbs darted over to the stranger as he spoke, simple words in an even tone. Mari had to admire his adamant stance, most others either rebuked her ire with frustration and anger; or gave up and walked away. Mari knew that people had negative reactions to her outward disposition; it's why she tended to act the way she did. Why bother making friends? Why bother being on terms that were beyond that of an acquaintance? 

 

The youth gave a small shake of his head; and wisps of dark hair covered amber coloured hues; as though night was encompassing over the twilight reflected in his subdued gaze. He crossed his thumb over his chest. Mari raised a brow at the action, the symbolism was not lost on her - but her mistrusting nature made her doubtful. Mari had to admit this stranger; this man was...in a sense, pleasant to talk to. Even if their encounter was filled with snide remarks and pointed barbs at one another.

Once Mari had fallen amongst the bed of golden flowers; the man spoke, but his words fell on deaf ears - Mari hadn't heard him, but she did hear his name. She repeated it, "Locke..." her tone pensive, as she repeated it, a second time - committing it to memory. "Locke." The name rolled off her tongue.

"Mari." 

She replied. Giving her own name in return, lifting her head up to meet his gaze. "The name's Mari." 

At this point; Mari wasn't sure what to do, or say - social interactions were not her forte' and she often found herself struggling to maintain them, she chewed on her lower lip, the silence that had washed over them began to bother her - and the light, was fading. The wind had picked up a cool change which made her arms prickle with the sensation of goosebumps. Still; she refused to move from her place. Nestled amongst a field of gold. "You're stubborn." Mari said simply, a feeble attempt to break the silence, it wasn't hurled with the same toxicity as her previous words. It was an observation. Mari closed her eyes, turning her head back to the sky, giving a slight wince as her head hit something hard - Mari lifted her head and pulled out the vial of 'Calming Honey' she mumbled; and shoved it to the side before resting her head once more on the lush grass.

[Locke 0]

The fleeting palpitations of his heart had at last began to fade, and his breathing regained their previous normalcy. The visceral episode left him feeling drained of that precious essence.

Call it soul or spirit- chakra or chi; in the end they all pointed to the same body. His vital essence had felt thinned, like a block of ice reduced that'd been reduced into little more than a spotty film of moisture. It was fortunate that he'd taken a seat when he did.

And yet that heart of hearts- his perceptive propensity, allowed for a mismatch made in heaven.

Sympathy; it represented a gift meant for noble intentions, but instead served his nefarious soul in a union of harmonious dissonance. All things in the world could be taken on through brute force. He had seen many such attempts, with varying degrees of success. But his was a path of lesser resistance. One of grace, and of collusion. It was fate that he'd found company in the twilight field, and he would not let the possibilities escape him.

To his own annoyance, he spoke his next words without thinking.

"And so are you," he spoke, in an even tone. Silently, he swore at himself for his carelessness. His offhand remark had not exactly been a declaration of war, and yet this was not the time to be rash. Even the fastest racers had to slow down at corners. Without skipping a beat, he added, "But that's not such a bad thing..."

She closed her eyes, just as the night sky had begun to do with the setting sun. Before long, there would be darkness- with eyes open or closed. But for now, the light was not yet fully gone.

His eyes caught a glimpse of the dying light as it reflected off of the glass vial, which had come to rest upon leaves and grass. After a moment of hesitation, he palmed the tiny container before taking it in between his fingers. He made no effort to conceal his actions, so as to avoid any potential misgivings. In his hands, the golden nectar was a toxic ambrosia, and left them feeling heavy and hot.

"Tell me," said Locke; he held the vile in front of the woman, so that it took on a gentle glow in the fading light. "Why is it preferable to suffer...?" He shook the vessel softly and inched it forward. "...when you have the power to make it go away? If even for only a moment..."

Around them, the air only became cooler and less hospitable as the minutes passed by. Slowly, it leeched away at their warmth like a cold-hearted parasite.

[Mari 1]

(On my phone will edit format when I am back home from work)

Mari, with her eyes closed gave the slightest of laughs, it was somewhat forced- but even so- it was one of the few times she was actually able to laugh at something, without the sour attempt to mock it. She had laughed at his brazen comment about how stubborn she was, only to backtrack quickly and remind her it wasn't a bad thing.

Mari's eyes fluttered open; and with the fading light came the soft green glow from her eyes-her night vision, a skill she once deemed useless. Darkness was quickly approaching but for the pink haired Player Killer- it wasn't a hinderance.

Mari felt somewhat calm, her turbulent emotions continuously lashed at her, wave after wave- ebbing on the edge of her sanity. It was draining, and she found herself forgetting what peace felt like. True, it may seem like a stretch, but moments like this? Mari caught herself feeling sated. And then, guilty. Mari felt she didn't deserve repentance, she didn't deserve a calm reprise.

His voice interrupted her thoughts, inquisitive words as he picked up the vial, asking a pointed question. Mari repeated it. "Why is it preferable to suffer..." She turned her gaze to him, midnight hair shrouded in a halo glow from the setting sun behind the two. It wasn't something she had thought about.

Closing her eyes again Mari inhaled deeply. "Who knows?" She exhaled, "I could say I am punishing myself- I could make excuses- or delve into a self loathing sob story about how it's all I know, all I am used too. But that's just stupid."

Mari sensed Locke draw closer, and she could almost feel the warmth radiating from him, the electricity of his person, the aura, call it what you will. Still, the obstinate woman kept her eyes closed, welcoming the shrouded veil her eyelids gave her.

"It makes me feel human." Mari said, "emotions, be they negative or positive. It reminds me I am human."

Mari hesitated, before admitting a fear of hers, "I'n afraid to feel anything positive, only to have it ripped away. I feel undeserving. I've killed many people in this game, children, psychopaths, innocent players. I accept what comes. If I have the power to change that, I would rather let someone else have that, at a nice profit for myself."

[Locke 0]

In the lonely field, he held his temptress- both in hand and in gaze. Its silent siren's song called for him; the alluring elixir beckoned for his touch, and he yearned to give them both that certain satisfaction. He could feel its wispy tendrils past his fingers and up his arm, like the memory of an overgrown vine. The 'Calming Honey' was not his first love, and yet it evoked her in spirit and in essence. It was a shadow cast from both her and the harem that had followed. All this, in the form of an amber bottle. 

His arm trembled, chipping away at his trademark cool for as long as he continued to hold it. In a way, it mirrored him. All that he was, even down to the color; all this, in the form of an amber bottle.

Not like this. With a turn of his hand and an unfurling of fingers, he let the vial slip. It rolled down his open palm and past his bridge of digits before falling into the grass. He drew his hand away sharply, as if it'd touched the surface of a heated stove by mistake. As it fell, the noise that'd filled his head once again receded to the fringes of his mind. They'd sounded like the high-pitched whines of a microphone that'd come to close to its speaker. Now, they were little more than cheap echoes. For the time being, the interference had come to pass.

 

Against his better judgement, he swept the the ground with his eyes, finding nothing. It'd simply become too dark. And maybe that's for the better. He couldn't help but notice the soft green light that had filtered through her eyes, which had since scrunched closed. In spite of his distractions, he'd heard the honest words that she had spoken. They'd sounded muffled and far off, but he'd heard them nonetheless. 

 

His air of calm returned as the weakness ebbed from his body, and temptations subsided. From the expression she wore, he saw the woman had calmed as well. But more importantly, he felt it. 

"It's funny," Locke began, "for a moment, that almost sounded tender- up until the part about the profits, but that's fair enough." He reached lazily into the grass and slowly wound a long strand around his finger, only speaking when the blade had come to wrap around it entirely. "But you're right about one thing, Mari."

He tucked the tip of his finger inward and tugged at the wiry green strand until snapped. "You're undeserving, but so am I," he mused. "We're nothing special. The whole damn lot of us." His gaze was cast out somewhere beyond the horizon, and his eyes had a far-off look about them. "Each and every last one of us was born with nothing more than a head on our shoulders and our own two hands. Some don't even get that." 

 

Soon, the dull lock drifted back to the ground, where it lay curled and bent- he had let it unwind and slip from his fingers. "What you manage to walk away with- that's yours to keep. So take happiness when it comes your way, and save your worries for later. Don't be afraid, Mari."

[Mari 1]

Mari opened her eyes when she felt something land beside her head. The stars now dotted the sky, blanketed in an inky midnight. Mari turned her head to see the vial of 'Calming Honey' resting in the grass beside her. Mari reached out, delicate fingers wrapping around the glass - which was oddly warm to the touch, she picked it up and fiddled with it - as the concoction rest on the flat of her stomach.

 

"I don't think I can do tender." Mari said, "This world, any world is ruthless - you know what they say." She added with a twirl of her finger. "Money makes the world go 'round. I don't plan on living in caves forever. I want to amass enough to buy a house - when they open on the higher floors. I don't care who I have to step on to do that. I'll take it, and I'll keep it. You cannot succeed without quashing others."

 

She was silent, as Locke sympathised with her - absently pulling at the grass that surrounded the two. He turned away from her and gazed off into the distance. The man spoke with a stony resolve. One that was only learnt by a life of harsh lessons and turmoil that Mari - who had a very pleasant upbringing wouldn't be able to begin to understand.

Mari hadn't seen Locke's struggle, and was oblivious to the inner demons that weighed him down, still his unbridled temptation did not go unnoticed by the young woman. "You can take it if you want." Mari said, as her eyes fluttered to his troubled form. Vial in hand she gave him an offering. "Won't even expect you to pay." In her eyes, it was a harmless action. Extending an olive branch, a chance to continue the conversation - and a way for him to escape his own maddening nightmares that screamed and tore at his mentality beyond the mask of his stormy golden gaze. Mari allowed her own orbs to linger, before offering Locke a smirk. 

Lifting herself off the ground with an elbow, mere inches - Mari pressed the vial against his temple, "It almost matches your eyes, almost."."

[Locke 0]

"That's not quite true, is it?" he inquired, peering into those cerulean pools. He turned his head the slightest bit, and yet his eyes held steady, as if attempting search the pools from another angle. "I get the feeling that legal tender isn't the only sort you have," he quipped.

 

It sounded a bit stupider than he'd intended as it left his lips- his wordplay was just a tad above par in this case. A nickle short of a crumpled dollar. But he hadn't been lying.

 

A house? It was a concept with which he was familiar. A solitary building, made of brick and wood- perhaps painted, but maybe not. He faintly recalled one such structure as being a place he'd once called home, though these memories had not managed to escape the erosion that came with passing time. 

 

What remained in the silt were faint traces of a much larger, and ultimately more somber picture. His mind's eye painted rows upon rows of ash- or homes, as people had called them. One shack in particular, looking very much like the others- 24601; this was where Alton Kantor had been born. It was there in those slums that he had died; there was never a life for him there, in that decrepit place. All it offered, was a slower path to an uncomfortable death.

 

He shook his head absently at her talk of buying one of these houses. "I don't understand," he said; he pulled again at the grass. "Why would you want to tie yourself down like that?" he asked, with greater sincerity than he'd shown, "Is there really anywhere so perfect that you'd happily tuck yourself away?" He couldn't fathom why anyone would resign themselves to that- to 24601. His life hadn't changed immediately after he'd departed, and yet life on the road had always offered chance to simply walk away when enough was enough. 

On the other hand, her other sentiments were ones he certainly found appealing. There was no pleasure to be gained through the use and abuse of others- that would be simple sadism, for which he held no respect. But there was also no shame in doing what had to be done. In a world rife with inequality, hers was sound advice. Life had never played fair, so why delude yourself into a self-important sense of justice?

 

Her next words caught him off guard- something that happened with rare infrequency, though it was expressed only through a subtle change in his eyes. Locke had never been a man too proud to accept charity. In fact, it would be hypocritical for one who'd often taken many an unintended gift- the euphemism he'd coined during his unscrupulous escapades. But something about taking this seemed so... wrong. Slowly, he wrapped his hand around the vial, causing his slender fingers to clasp gently around Mari's. They felt warm, and he could sense the warm intentions which radiated through them and into his own. 

 

The man opened his lips, but his jaws went slack, and for a moment no words came. Finally, he whispered to her in a low breath that was nearly inaudible. "Thank you..."

 

His demeanor remained calm, and yet his eyes spoke silent words of their own. Ones he'd left unspoken, but remained all the same. You've killed me...

[Mari 1]

Mari gave Lock a crude laugh; "Perhaps you're right. I'd be pretty useless if the only thing I had to barter with, was something as trifling as Col." Mari held fast to Locke's inquisitive gaze. Matching it with challenging crystalline orbs. Tired eyes which burned with a bitter ferocity, angry at the world around her. A silence fell between the two, much like the night had fallen, blanketing the two in a shroud of false reprise. There was no tension in the air, but there was something 

The two were playing a dangerous game, both pushing boundaries and buttons - testing the waters and assessing the other person before them. This wasn't akin to chess or checkers; it was more similar to an interrogation. Extracting snippets of information to use to their advantage.

 

Locke's next words; at first had confused Mari. As he seemed to talk in disdain at the mere mention of a home. He averted his eyes and ripped up more blades of plush green grass between nimble fingers. "I wouldn't call it happily tucking myself away," Mari began. She paused as she tilted her head to catch his gaze again. "Of course, those words are to be expected from someone slummin' it on the streets eh?" Mari asked. It was a wild guess, one that could very well be wrong, but in her experience. A house was something to be desired within the game, the only few who would deny that were vegabonds, and those who were not used to such luxuries.

 

Locke, feeling the warmth of the vial pressed to his skin seemed to startle; or was it her word that unnerved him? Mari wasn't sure. Slowly, Locke wrapped his hand around hers. His palm was soft and his fingers long, yet Mari's small hand still fit comfortably inside his. Locke held the woman's gaze, whispering words of gratitude but the electricity of his words - and the look in his eyes spoke an entirely different story. 

Another moments silence.

Then, Mari spoke again, drawing her hand away and allowing the vial to slip into his hand. "Oh don't give me that look." She said in a brash tone; bringing up her HUD, she pulled her other various concoctions out of stock, allowing them to gently fall around her. Another Calming Honey, Truth Serum, Depressive Drought, Absolute Greed, and her favourite, at least in looks - starry eyed illusion. The bottles and vials littered the floor around her; the Starry Eyed Illusion softly glowing in the darkness that surrounded the two.

Mari must have looked quite the sight, a pink clad Pker; surrounded by an array of potions. "If you don't like that I have others." Mari said in a dangerous tone. "I could have fun here;" She began, her words almost threatening. "I could place you into a sense of calm stupor; then force truths out of you. I could place you into a whirlwind of depression, I could give you a dreamy illusion.. oh the possibilities."

[Locke 0]

Locke met her implied accusation with a look of amusement. Amber orbs glistened like dewy petals at twilight, and a sense of brightness came about them. "Mmm, I have no idea what you're talking about," he cooed. It was obvious he wasn't the only one fishing for information - although at this point, it was almost as if she wanted him to know it. Though the usefulness of this particular tidbit did not come to mind, he was more than familiar with how these things often spiraled into more sensitive matters.

 

To a lesser man, knowledge was an additive phenomena; learn one matter followed by another, and you're left with two. But to a more cunning mind, it was exponential - suddenly, those two matters might link up, revealing a bridge between both. One simply had to know where to look.

 

"It's like I said before," Locke began. His look was pensive, as if he'd slowed down upon sensing the a certain shift in their dynamic. "Not all of us belong in towns. Perhaps I already grew up in a perfect home, and simply don't see the point in living out a nonexistent fantasy." All traces of hesitation and uncertainty had vanished from face. What remained in their place was a stony placidity - a lake that was calm, but only because its surface had frozen over, and no longer revealed warmth. 

 

The fatal vial slipped into his hands as the hand of Mari fell away. A certain painting he'd once seen came to mind; the picture of a man reaching out to god. Was there relevance to such an image? It was unlikely. The sole parallel in this instance was Mari, who created; it was he who accepted. But Mari was no God.

He watched as a torrent of poison rained down around her. They were all sorts of hues; it was as if somebody had knocked over a rack of paint cans and caused an explosion of color, but with less of the mess that sort of incident might incur. One bottle in particular caught his immediate attention - it contained a radiant liquid, which twinkled and glowed like the night sky that stretched above. He could only speculate about what such a concoction might do. But it would be even better if he didn't.

 

"I suppose it's safe to assume you're already aware of the fact, but not all of those sound exactly... mmm, appealing," retorted Locke coolly. He raised a brow, then continued, "You're not going to make a dime off of me with any of those, so how about you put them back where you got them?"

[Mari 1]

Locke took on a playful voice, with a somewhat sinister undertone as he graced her with an amused look. Stating he had no idea what she was talking about. HIs tone, and words implied a myriad of things; the knowing flash of amber hinted that she may have been right. But Locke, Mari had deduced was not one to give something away so easily. He could very well be alluding her; sending her down a false path. This was an interesting, yet dangerous game - and Mari knew if she wasn't careful she'd ensnare herself in her own web.

Mari blinked; as his tone steeled; his eyes taking on a sober tone with a deadpan face; again he reiterated that not everyone belonged in towns, and it was only now that Mari had realized that he not only meant her - but was referring to his own sense of exclusion within the safety of the towns walls. His entire presence had darkened, and if Mari was that perceptive, which she wasn't - she may have noticed his body tense at the harsh words. "Life, be it here; or outside the game, simply existing is a fabrication - a fantasy." Mari mused thoughtfully. She had once lost herself in just that, she had her own home, a husband, a daughter - but it was all ripped from her. Everything. Even here; within the game, she had to bear the weight of her daughters death on her own two shoulders; as she repeated the mistakes she made within the real world. 

"In any reality; things will shatter - like the delicate falsehoods they are, nothing more than stained glass." Mari shifted her gaze downward, a pink curtain shielded her eyes. Her tone weakening for a mere moment. "It's too fragile." If one could see through the curtain of hair they would see that Mari had bit her lower lip, her eyes glassy with tears that she forced back. She blinked; and took a steady breath, and that sensitive moment; those delicate words were gone. Replaced with a shiver that ran up her spine, wearing the callous sinister smirk she usually wore as she rose her eyes to meet his again.

 

"They aren't meant to sound appealing, I only hope that many of those who drink..." She paused, gesturing around her; "Who drink these; are unaware - caught by surprise as they find that their comrades break whatever notion of trust they once had." Mari's words would foreshadow her actions as she inched closer, her hand slipping into his, a single finger deftly flipping the top off the warm, alluring vial. Her hand guided his to her lips.

Mari paused; looking him dead in the eye; "Everything breaks." She said cooly before tipping the vial up to her lips with his hands, allowing the liquid to wash into her mouth it took all the willpower she had not to swallow it. The liquid was sweet and she felt goosebumps rise on her arms from the warmth that radiated from within her mouth - but she didn't stop there. Mari pressed further; taking a risky move as she placed her soft lips onto his; forcing the warmth liquid to trickle into his mouth. A hand snaked up to her cheek to hold him there  before quickly pulling away, wiping her lips with the back of her hand, a single trail of the liquid ambrosia still lingered at the corner of her mouth.

"Me. You. Everyone, and everything. Breaks."
 

It was the first time she had willingly kissed anyone since the death of Alkor a month ago; and it was void of any of the emotion, the delicate love or care that such an action should possess. Others had placed their lips to hers, with Mari being an unwilling party. Lotharian, Zero, Daeron - each action seemingly innocent - but those small actions built up. And it wasn't till the death of her former love interest did they break. Shattering her old sentiment that the action should be saved for one that you cared for. It was a foolish, idealistic dream. 

Everything Breaks

And Mari, was just another causality in the maddening minuet of life.

[Locke 0]

A certain weight shadowed her words. He blinked expectantly, as if she herself would shatter right there in the moment. But when his eyes again opened - there she was; the scene had remained constant. The shroud of inky darkness blotted out an otherwise colorful display; a chill hung in the air, circling the two like vultures. Every shimmering star remained in its rightful place. The world was not so fragile - it was those who inhabited it. They were the ones who broke, time and time again.

With a crescent wave of his hand, he gestured to all that was around them, reflecting the action she had taken moments prior. "All of this, and more; in this life, and every life - all that's around, continues to exist." He tapped the tip of the vial to his temple, before letting his hand fall back to a more natural position. "Lay blame on your own mind, not on the world. This world, and every world - it doesn't shatter so easily. It simply... changes."

Slick rhetoric or not, their world views were clearly at odds. This in itself was not a problem. Rather, it was as if something about her vibe had... changed. Her tone had wavered as she completed the thought, and her gaze had held steady with the ground beneath them. "Mari..." he said, softly.

In spite of the veiled hostility that simmered beneath the surface of their dynamic, it was not quite so black and white. He didn't care for the woman - not in any way that implied thoughtfulness, or attributed to her any selfless significance. The two had met not too long ago; such a thing would be unlikely even for a pair of more honest souls.

But her essence felt familiar to him, in a warped sort of way. And he'd been burned a single ember of the flames which ravaged her sullen spirit. Hers was an accursed rose which sipped on the blood of others, and here in this field, he was its beholder. For all of the barbs they traded - their hostilities, perhaps it was silent understanding that lay at the root of this forsaken garden.

And just like that, yet another glimpse of insecurity retreated back into the night, which called itself Mari. He listened without objection as she spoke her rancorous words, and watched silently still as her hand found its way back into his. Even as she downed the fatal liquid, Locke remained quiet. This was what he had hoped to bring about, was it not?

After all, the inebriated were not so difficult to handle. In both mind and spirit, their rigidity was lost, and replaced by fluidity in the face of uncontrollable desire.. Their type was pliable, and it was almost too easy.

"Nothing breaks," Locke answered, with a slow shake of his head. "What's changed, Mari?" he asked; he was struggling to ascertain the last piece of this convoluted puzzle. The dull bitterness of melancholy tainted his taste of success. It would be a hollow joy, if his question were to go unanswered.

And then, he tasted something else; and it was not quite so abstract.

Locke had known the significance usually carried by the gesture of a kiss. The warmth that it was meant to bring, and the hearts that it could win - but all of this had been for others, not for him. For the dark-haired miscreant, it had simply been another tool, and had never set his heart aflutter. They were nothing more than charming words, spoken in a much closer, more physical manner.

But Mari had kissed him; pressed her lips to his, in a single brazen act. He was at a loss, and it disconcerted him so very much. I don't feel warmth from her... It was the incongruity between the letter and the spirit which caused her ploy to elude him. But why?

And then as she pulled away, the reason for this discrepancy became suddenly obvious. His mouth filled with the saccharine taste of the warm honey, which stained his lips in its glistening gold. Her kiss had not been of the first; it'd been the latter.

Amber eyes flashed red, like burning coals, and a tremor filled his body. He wanted nothing more than to return her gesture - not out of warmth, but out of petty spite. But the honey; it was so... pleasant. It brought him back to a more peaceful time, and a more forgiving place. Somewhere far away. Maybe just this once? And then after that, only on occasion. With that hasty resolution, Locke swallowed the golden mixture, and let it slip down his throat.

Still bitter, he wiped his lips with a motion that mirrored Mari's as his seething eyes narrowed. This had not been on his own terms. "Damn you..." he spat, crawling forward with considerable strain. He knew the gap between their levels would prevent him any physical comeuppance, and yet that didn't seem to matter in this moment.

But the glint of brilliance vanished from his eyes, and they became faded and dull. The beating in his heart and breath in his lungs began to slow. Haltingly, he lifted his head to look at the woman as he fell forward, planting his palms against the ground for support.

Something in him had changed, and he didn't know what.

[Mari 1]

The two had vastly different ideals; hers was bleak - clouded by worlds of hurt and loss; Mari had tried and tried again to rise up against it, but she found herself swept away. Drowning in its melancholy turbulence. "I used to think like that." Mari admitted in a somewhat wistful tone - a single finger twirling strands of pink hair as she averted her eyes from his intense gaze. "You could say I see things more clearly now," she paused, "or you could say I am just fooling myself. I guess that’s what they call a matter of perception.”

 

Locke asked her what changed, and Mari wasn’t sure, there was no viable way she could answer that. It seemed as though this entire game was just a personal hell, fashioned to her. Mari at times thought that she had died at some point; and this was her purgatory. It made sense – a confined area she could not escape from, relics from the past; her daughter…the devious lawyer…The best way to shatter a person’s resolve is to give them glimpses of hope, of happiness – only to tear it away. It could drive people insane.

It was driving Mari mad.

Mari gave Locke a wry grin; as she finally answered his question. "Who knows, wouldn't it be a fun game, if you were to find out?"

 

And there it was again; Mari hiding away her feelings behind veils of hostility. People treated her like a monster; so why not act the part. Better yet, why not become the part? After all, who would care? Mari had no friends,  no one she was on positive terms with. Her spiral out of control would go unnoticed, till it began affecting others – till she started pulling others into the storm, wrapping her fingers around their fragile psyches.

 

Mari watched as the effects of the honey began to take their hold; Locke flashed her a look; his eyes filled with a myriad of emotions, anger, hate? Betrayal, broken trust - it was impossible to ascertain an exact emotion from a mere ire-filled glance. Mari reached out to brush the hair from his eyes in an unusually tender manner, the back of her hand lingering against his heated forehead. "But I don't think you can do that, in your current state." She teased in a hushed tone. Mari pulled her hand away as he struggled to push forward, collapsing onto his hands. His head bowed down as though it was too heavy to lift. Mari was interested to see what sort of reaction people had to her concoction. Locke - seemed to become sluggish. Rumors stated that Kiru was happy and amicable. It appeared that it differed from person to person.

Seeing him almost collapse to the ground made Mari feel…remorse. Perhaps she was too hasty in her actions? Isn’t this what Mari wanted? For a reason she couldn't determine she didn't want to see him so helpless, she had known him for a few hours at most. There wasn't a time to develop a rapport. So why? Why did Mari feel guilty when she saw Locke in such a dismissive, sluggish stupor? 

Mari reached out, placing her hands on his shoulders to push him into a seated position, before standing. "You know." Mari began, placing her hands on his cheeks, tilting his head up to meet her cool blue gaze. "I was planning on using more of these on you, but now I am not so sure." 

 

Her voice was filled with an underlining concern, as she used her thumb to wipe away the residue from his lips. Mari closed her eyes, inhaling deeply before exhaling – with her eyes still closed she added; “But you can’t even handle this.”  Her words were spoken with harsh disappointment as she let his cheeks go. Mari stood up straight and slowly began to put the vials back into her inventory. Pausing as she reached The Starry Eyed potion, she glanced down at it, giving it a nudge with her foot. "What a pain." Mari said with a sigh, as she placed that too, back into her shop inventory.

Mari gave her head another shake, trying to shake this guilt and worry from her mind. "Perhaps I should make something that dispels compassion," She joked with a laugh. Although the laugh was short lived as she heard a rustle nearby; turning over her shoulder she noticed what looked to be a few torches – held by other players. Whispers caught on the wind;

 

“She was around here somewhere-“

“If we ambush her we can kill her in her sleep.”

Mari sighed, “How bothersome.” She glanced down at Locke, who In his sluggish state would be no help. Mari bent down, and picked him up. She’d take him to her Alchemy store. Mari had a Transport Crystal from long ago; and had never used it – never did she think she would use it at such a ridiculous time. If Locke weren’t with her – she would simply kill them. Mari grabbed the crystal, ensuring she was in physical contact with him before using it. “Floor 10 – Mari’s Alchemy Tent.”

In an instant the two were whisked away, landing in the centre of Mari’s store on the 10^th floor. It was outside the safe zone; but no monsters would trek into the tent; and players who entered it were few and far between. Mari allowed Locke to fall to the plush floor of her shop. Getting right back to the point.

"So , Locke," Mari began. "Now that those distractions are gone…How does it feel? Want to try something else?" 

[Locke 0]

Crystal clarity gave way to something more opaque and viscous; his eyes glazed over with dull gold. He felt warm, as if he'd been wrapped up in a freshly laundered blanket- the sensation spread from his stomach until it had filled his entire body. The vortex of swirling thoughts and emotions yielded to a gentler, more peaceful stream. A quiet, happy trickle.

And yet something about his spirit felt the slightest bit off. Was it tranquil, or had it become tranquilized?

The sentiment seemed to dispel almost as quickly as it had formed, and once again he was filled with that same contentment. His body was lax, and he was left without a care or worry in the world. It was almost blissful.

Then he heard the woman in front of him speak, and recognized her as Mari. Strangely, he couldn't seem to associate anything more to her than the name. No memories, thoughts or feelings were tied to this individual.

She spoke teasing words, and brushed the hair from his eyes. He simply smiled at her, as if they were old friends. His chipper grin was nearly as wide as his eyes. "What do you mean?" he asked, tilting his head to the side. "I feel like I can do anything, Mari." A hearty laugh bubbled its way up and escape through his lips. This was funny... somehow.

He felt a slight pressure on his shoulders as she placed her palms against them and nudged him back to a seated position, but he didn't object. Locke shifted his legs out from under him, so that he sat in his favored seiza style, with the backs of his thighs pressed snugly against the backs of his calves. Her hands cradled his cheeks, and lifted his chin so that their gazes were once again flush.

"I don't think I understand..." he answered simply, looking away. What was she talking about? "Did you... use something on me?" he asked. That was what it had sounded like, at least.

He recalled sitting here in this field for quite some time, but the memory was fuzzy, like watching the blurriest video possible. Everything seemed to be drowned out in golden light, as if they were all pictures that'd been left grossly overexposed. But in spite of it all, the light was warmth.

Then he heard voices emanating from somewhere in the distance, but the words were not clear enough for him to make out. Their meanings were lost upon him. But he felt Mari clasp his hand in hers, and she pulled him up. He'd been about to ask her another question, when suddenly he found himself planted into a completely different scene, where he fell against the soft floor of what looked to be some sort of tent. He returned to his previous sitting position and dusted himself off, then let his gaze fall back to the woman as she spoke to him once more.

His arms stretched out wide, and he covered his mouth with the back of a closed hand before letting out a yawn. "I... I feel a little tired, but happy," he replied, dropping his hands back to his lap. He lifted his head up and off to the side before darting his eyes back to Mari once again. "Peaceful, I think."

Locke's expression was placid as he considered her next question, before giving a slow nod of his head. "Let's try something else. It sounds fun." He smiled warmly.