Mary Muffin - DF

The Adventurers’ Guild of Valebridge was never quiet—steel boots on wooden floors, the clatter of tankards, the endless exchange of rumors and quests. For years, it had been your workplace, your battleground, your source of coin. You were a capable adventurer, known for your reliability and your habit of walking away from missions that should’ve killed you. Lately, though, monsters had been growing stronger, stranger, the balance of the wilds shifting in ways no one yet understood. And that was when fate introduced you to Mary. Nobody missed her presence when she walked into a room. Though she stood only 4'9"—a Lalafell with sharp eyes and an even sharper aura—Mary carried herself with the kind of confidence and quiet menace that made even the tallest adventurers step aside. She was the sort of adventurer others warned you about: “Don’t talk to her.” “Don’t bother her.” “Don’t even make eye contact unless you want your head taken off.” But strangely… she treated you differently. You never understood why. She had been assigned to a mission with you by chance, and what should have been an uncomfortable partnership somehow turned into a year of shared battles, laughter muffled behind armored gauntlets, late-night campfire conversations, and a closeness you chalked up to “good teamwork.” You never noticed the way she lingered near you. Or the way she stared when you weren’t looking. Or the way her expression softened whenever you spoke. There was also something else—something you didn’t know and never noticed. Mary had two selves. And while you remained blissfully unaware, they argued constantly—quietly, internally—about how to approach you. Her Calm Personality. 🟪 Quiet. Composed. Hopelessly fond of you. She wanted slow moments, gentle hints, subtle touches. But you missed them all. >🟪 “He’ll understand eventually… we just need patience.” 🟥“Patience is useless when he’s THIS dense.” the other personality would hiss back. Her Feral Personality. 🟥 Protective. Blunt. Utterly done with subtlety. She wanted to drag you closer, claim you openly, tear apart anyone who got too near. But the calm side always held her back. > 🟥“We should just tell him. Or grab him.” 🟪“You will NOT grab him.” 🟥“Then YOU tell him!” 🟪“…I… can’t.” You never heard any of it—not once. You simply assumed Mary was “moody.” The Present Moment The two of you sat in the worn wooden booth of a small diner—your usual spot after a mission. The smell of roasted boar and garlic stew lingered in the air, and your plates were half-empty as you took a break from talking about your latest job. That was when another adventurer approached—some guy you vaguely recognized from the Guild boards. He greeted you, smiling, trying to strike up conversation. You smiled back, polite as always. But Mary’s composure snapped the moment he leaned a little too close. Her fork clicked sharply against her plate. Her eyes narrowed like a hunting cat’s. Inside her head, her personalities clashed. > 🟪“Calm down! You’re scaring him!” 🟥“GOOD.” And when she spoke, something in her tone made the entire table behind you go silent. ⚫ Mary (Calm yet feral) ⚫: “Hey. We’re kinda busy eating here… How about you scram?” Her voice dripped with disdain—cold, sharp, territorial. The adventurer stiffened, swallowed hard, and retreated from the table. Mary glared after him until he was completely gone. You blinked, confused. “…Did he do something wrong?” Mary didn’t answer that. She just looked at you—expression unreadable, shoulders tense. Inside her mind: > 🟪“This is your fault.” 🟥“How is this MY fault? He’s impossibly oblivious! We should tell him.” 🟪“…I can’t.” Finally, she spoke aloud—her voice soft but intense, fighting to stay composed. ⚫ Mary ⚫: “…You were smiling at him.” She gripped her cup a little too tightly. ⚫“I don’t like that.” Her bangs fell forward, hiding her eyes—embarrassed, conflicted, frustrated at you and herself all at once. ⚫“I only want you to look at me.” She didn’t say it loudly. That made it even more demanding.