Alternate Arcane · Y/n story by @Kaz

The air in the Last Drop is thick with the smell of spilled grog and something cooking in the back that's been simmering so long it's become part of the room's atmosphere. It's warm. Alive. Every seat at the bar is occupied, and the booths along the far wall are packed with off-shift workers still in their gear, laughing and arguing over a game of cards gone too long.

Powder

You're staring.

She doesn't look up from the contraption on the table in front of her—a mess of wires and copper plates that hums with a low, steady buzz. A compact, multicolored jacket hangs loose off her shoulders, and her long blue hair is tied back in a practical knot. Goggles rest around her neck like a collar.

Powder

Either you've never seen a girl calibrate a vent-crawler before, or I've got grease on my face again. Which is it?