[center][img]https://imgur.com/6kC4WvK.jpg[/img][/center] Pandora's Potts was Pandora's favorite place in the world. It was a homely little spot, tucked away in a quiet corner of Passenger Island. It was a townhouse, crammed inbetween other retail stores and homes. The bottom floor was Pandora's Potts, the second floor was Pandora's home. Technically her legal name was Jane Smith, but everyone just called her Pandora. If it's up to her, no one finds out her name is Jane Smith. Pandora lived and worked in her little flower shop, alone, by herself. She did everything. Managing, cleaning, flower care, going out and designing flower set ups for various clients. It was her own little space that she had worked for herself. Well, she cheated a little bit, but it's not like playing fair was ever apart of the so-called American dream. As for the shop itself, it was made of wood. The storefront had a large glass window that let in a large amount of natural light. There was a wooden door with a small glass window that had a colorful Viola made from different pieces of colored glass. The place was absolutely overgrown, with porcelain and clay pots lining various shelves high and low, all of them with different types of beautiful flowers. Several LED lanterns were hung up and sat down on various places, giving the place a homey glow. There were many strange antiquities and knick knacks, like cuckoo clocks, coasters, figurines, cards. A gramaphone in one dark corner played old classical music. Paintings of landscapes and longdead people were set up in the few spots of negative space. It smelled like wood and the sweet scent of flora. It was a cozy place, entering it felt like entering another world. A weird world, that was old, a mishmash of different eras and aesthetics all crammed together. Over the front door, in light orange letters in a fancy font, was Pandora's Potts. Spelt with two T's, always. On the roof of the place one could see vegation hanging over the edge and what looked like a greenhouse built on the roof. The icing on the eccentric cake was enigmatic shopkeeper herself, Pandora. An enchantingly beautiful woman that looked like she was from a story book, with vibrant orange eyes and aubern hair that was tied up into a loose, messy bun. She walked around barefoot, with a heavy green apron draped over her toned shoulders. Underneath the apron she was wearing a grey crop top, so one could see the sides of her athletically built torso. Finally, a pair of very short jeans that accentuated her muscular thighs. This was her domain, and despite the fact it was a shop supposed to be entered and perused, one couldn't shake the feeling that they weren't quite welcome. The redhead was currently in the far corner of the room, standing by a closed backdoor that lead to a laundry room and staircase into her home. There was a flower back there in need of attending too, and she was dilligently leaned over with a pair of small clippers in her strong hand, gently pruning it back. It was actually a collection of yellow-petalled stocks that looked like they were trying to erupt into a bush at any moment. There was a small parchment tag hooked into the pot that read "Forsythia, 11.99", clearly scratched in her own handwriting. [color=fdc68a]"You are so very pretty, you know this, Misses Forsythia? Oh, yes, indeed."[/color] She cooed gently, speaking to directly the plant. She was gently swaying her hips to the beat of the music as she did so. [color=fdc68a]"But we can't have you growing too much, no. No, we can't. You grow too fast, don't you? You eager little flower. You just want to take over the whole world, don't you?"[/color] Snip, snip, snip. It was done, and the woman leaned back, satisfied. Gathering up the loose buds in her hands, she squeezed them real tight. Them and the air trapped inside her palm turned to water. Opening her hand it flowered a few inches above her fingers as she manipulated the air to keep the water suspended. Tipping her hand she showered the flower in additional war. [color=fdc68a] "There we go. Feeling better? Not so thirsty anymore?"[/color] She asked. No response except a slight rustling as some of the stems were bumped by falling drops. [color=fdc68a]"All right, that's done. All my flowers are done for the day, and it's only what..."[/color] She glanced around and her eyes found the cuckoo clock the wall above her cash register's desk. The little spot that only she was allowed to stand behind. It read 8:30 AM. Pandora had been up all night, like she very often was. [color=fdc68a]"Plenty of time left in the day."[/color] Whether she was speaking to the flowers or to herself, it wasn't entirely clear. Slapping the non-existant dust off her hands, Pandora quietly travelled upstairs, her bare feet padding along the carpeted wooden staircase. Her house was all soft lighting, soft carpet, and warm hues. Clocks, paintings, flowers, natural lighting. It was much less congested and busy than the shop below, giving Pandora plenty of room to breathe and relax. Wires were plugged into the wall that travelled and vanished into the ceiling above. It was clear a lot of thought had been put into this place in terms of interior design. The florist went over to a large, boxy TV, adjusting the antenna and pressing a button on the side. The dusty box thrummed to life. She spent a few more moments making sure the connection was clear before flopping lazily on the couch, picking up a newspaper and flipping through it. Right now, she was relaxing. She had a few clients reserved for birthday parties, weddings, or just people who wanted to pretty up their house with flowers. Pandora surprised herself with how sociable she could be if she just pretended to like people, but it was quite draining. Still, she liked poking her nose into other people's business and getting a vertical slice of their short lives and what they were doing with them. Her heels rested on a wooden coffee table. About an hour passed of her just sitting quietly in this room, when the TV flicked to something more interesting than infomercials and cooking shows. Pandora's orange eyes flicked away from her newspaper and towards what looked to be some kind of signal hijacking. [color=fdc68a]"Mmm. This should be good. What's the villain of the week have in store for us this time?"[/color] She set her paper down in her lap and paid close attention. Some kind of studio. She raised her impeccable eyebrows, impressed, at the sight of Rainbow Dancer tied to a chair. Pandora had heard of that one. Quite famous, wasn't he? She couldn't quite remember the specifics. But the point is, this Mug had captured a live one and was looking to make an example of him on live TV. [color=fdc68a]"Oh, dear. Poor sod. No way he's making it out of this. No Mug worth his salt would allow this chance to slip through their fingers."[/color] She mumbled to herself. Pandora's dialect was English, her accent was light. Not as stereotypically posh as one might expect from a woman of her presentation, but rather a soft and singsongy Yorkshire accent. Her eyes switched from the display of terrorism on screen to a particularly interesting advertisement about electric toasters in her newspaper. Her mind recognized the kind of villain this was she kind of tuned out. Whatever ideology he was hiding behind was bonkers. Really, this guy just wanted to be able to do whoever he wanted to whomever he wanted. She chuckled lightly at his comment about how "Hey, I'll kill you, but at least I'm honest!" Truly, it was better to be stabbed in the face than stabbed in the back. This guy wanted to erode public trust in H.E.R.O organizations so he could take advantage of the reduced power they might get. To do so, he's got this poor Bloke all tied up and ready to confess to some act of heroic brutality. Sounds like Rainbow Dancer has this coming, at least. [color=fdc68a]"Uh oh. 'Ere it comes,"[/color] Pandora anticipated what was coming next, watching as the masked man raised something over Rainbow Dancer's head. The 'reward'. Pandora winced and laughed a little, a sympathetic one, like she was watching a funniest home video of a man bonk his head on something rather than one of a person being brutally murdered. [color=fdc68a]"That's rough. Oh, yeah, that's real rough. Went straight through, it did."[/color] She tsked her tongue and shook her head, glancing back down towards her newspaper. After a few moments she felt a pang of guilt and looked over to the open door of her bedroom. There, sitting in a water-filled blue glass vase, was a singular, beautiful rose, illuminated by the yellow light streaming in from the semi-parted curtains. Pandora tilted her head to the side, frowned, and then averted her eyes from the flower that judged her. About fifteen minutes later, she heard a bell's jingle ring through her house. The bell above the front door had been activated, indicating a customer had entered Pandora's Potts. Setting down the newspaper and leaving the TV on, she walked quickly downstairs to meet the customer. A middle-aged white man who was handsome enough, awkwardly staring at all the flowers around him as he waited for her to show up. [color=fdc68a]"Hi, welcome to Pandora's Potts, how can I help you?"[/color] Pandora asked cheerily, seamlessly switching into a midwestern American accent, the kind you hear on TV shows and in movies. The man seemed a little taken aback by her appearance and cleared his throat. In his hands he was holding a pot- on of hers- with a withered looking flower inside. Immediately the fake smile seemed obviously forced as her orange eyes went cold. She walked behind the counter and set her hands on the wooden surface. "Uh, yeah, hi. Uh, my wife bought this for our daughter- and, it's uh, it's broken." He said simply, extending it out towards her. "It's uh, it's dead." Pandora blinked once. [color=fdc68a]"Yeah?"[/color] She said, imploring him to continue. He seemed uncomfortable already, but wanted to stand his ground. "Well, we want a refund." [color=fdc68a]"You w-"[/color] She exhaled through her pink lips, staring down at the wilted, dead flower. Her fake American accent briefly slipped. [color=fdc68a]"Sir, I'm afraid I can't give you a refund on damaged goods."[/color] The man frowned and furrowed his brows. "What do you mean? The flowers no good, I can't use it for anything. It's ugly." He extended out his arms, holding the pot, as if he expected her to just take it. Pandora shook her head, her shoulders tense.[color=fdc68a] "If you wanted it to not be ugly, you should have kept it alive. Your wife recieved explicit-"[/color] "Can I speak to the manager?" He asked, interrupting her. Pandora reached out and evaporated him instantly with a flick of her wrist. This puny mortal dared question her floral ability? He dare challenge her within her realm? She is Pandora, the goddess of this domain! She hast hath slain more men than thee has't seen full moons! Die, die, intruder! Return to the depths of deepest, darkest Hell from whence you came! No, not really. Pandora just tensed up and had to play nice. He could leave a negative Yelp review, and any harm against her business would be a harm against her flowers. Do it for the flowers, Pandora. Do it for the flowers. [color=fdc68a]"Sir," [/color]The 'American' said, [color=fdc68a]"I am the manager of this establishment. I understand if you're upset."[/color] She explained professionally, reigning in her impulses. The man seemed anxious. He was probably intimidated by her beauty, the unnatural color of her eyes and hair, and the fact that it looked like she could beat him up even without those things. If one were to give him credit for anything, it was that he really wanted this refund. "Yes. It made my daughter cry. It was supposed to be a birthday gift." He said, looking down at the flower. [color=fdc68a]"Look..." [/color]She briefly rubbed the bridge of her nose. [color=fdc68a]"I can give you some store credit. Maybe we could help you pick out a new flower. You said your wife bought this? Do you have a reciept?"[/color] "Uh, no." The man responded. [color=fdc68a]"Do you have the card that was used to purchase it?"[/color] "Uh, no, it was my wife's card." He said, shifting uneasily. [color=fdc68a]"Well...okay. Okay."[/color] She inhaled and stood up straight, slapping the counter top, putting on a big smile. [color=fdc68a]"Lucky for you, I recognize all my flowers, with or without a receipt. I can tell that's one of my own."[/color] She shifted her weight onto one leg and tilted her head to the side. At this point the customer relaxed a little, now that he wasn't going to have put on any more shows of being tough and that she wasn't pissed at him. (Externally, at least.) [color=fdc68a]"What's your name, sir?"[/color] Pandora asked as she walked around the counter and took the pot from his hands. "Uh, Derek." He responded. [color=fdc68a]"Well, Derek, let me just take that from you. Could you follow me, please?" [/color] She beckoned him with her index finger. The two of them walked to the back corner where Pandora indicated the collection of stems and stalks that made up the Forsythia plant. [color=fdc68a]"If you're going to buy a flower using your new store credit, I'd recommend this one. It's tough, and receptive to many different types of soil. It will bloom in the spring into a beautiful yellow color. Aslong as it gets plenty of sunlight, you can have a big beautiful yellow bush growing in your garden. It can also work as a privacy wall. Just bury this in the ground and it will grow to be big if you water it two times a week."[/color] "Is it a bush or a flower?" He asked. Pandora's eye twitched. [color=fdc68a]"It's a bush of flowers. Tough, and pretty. Not a lot of maintenance. Once it gets going it practically maintains itself. It's named after William Forsyth, a-"[/color] "William Forsythe, huh? I liked him in The Mob Doctor." He noted, rubbing his beard. Pandora's smile was very big, and very wide as she watched the man pretend to mull this deal over.[color=fdc68a] "Yes, I'm sure."[/color] "Hmm. Well, okay. I'll take it." He said. [color=fdc68a]"Great!"[/color] Pandora clapped her hands together and picked up the flower soon-to-be-bush. Holding it in one hand she travelled over to large cabinent full of shelves organized in no outside discernable order. Pulling one shelf open she gathered a small plastic sack of small seeds and handed them and the plant to the man.[color=fdc68a] "Great. These will make a great birthday gift to your daughter if she likes flower. A bush like this will last for years to come. If you ever want more help in building your garden, I'll always be here to help."[/color] The man was being ushed out the door very subtly. Every step he took, Pandora took one forward and body blocked him from the rest of the store, slowly squeezing him out. "Uh, yeah, thanks, this is perfect. Thanks a lot." [color=fdc68a]"My pleasure, sir. Please feel free to return any time soon. I also help arrange weddings, parties, and any other social event. Pandora's Potts is the place to be if you want sincere, personal service. Okay, thank you. Bye, buh-bye now!"[/color] She said as, waving him goodbye. He smiled back, and the door closed behind him. Taking a few steps back, she did a full three sixty and went to strangle the empty air space where his neck just was, absolutely wringing the life out of it. Exhaling, she went over to the wilting flower and began tending to it. [color=fdc68a]"Oh, my poor baby. What did that nasty man do to you? You're all shrivelled up. No sunlight? Probably stuck you in her bedroom and left you there, I bet. Oh, you poor little thing." [/color] Placing her hands on it, she gently ran her thumb over the stem and color and life began to return to it, if only slightly. It was a start. This kind of starvation would require real care. Unfortunately she couldn't have it out in the open in the store, and her house upstairs wasn't condusive to healing from this kind of trauma. This little flower would have to be taken up to the greenhouse. There was no actual way up to the greenhouse. Technically she wasn't even permitted to build things on the roof, but a greenhouse ontop of a flower shop was something not many people questioned. One would have to deliberately seek out infractions and so far no needling bureaucrats had called her out on it. It looked like a natural addition, and Pandora was certain it was totally stable. Her special Pandora-only way to access the roof was via the bathroom. That was where she knew there was nothing waiting for her, she had it all taped off and everything. Passing by the TV to turn it off, she entered the tiled bathroom and closed the door behind her, locking it. Casually, she stuck her hands and feet into the side of the bathroom wall, climbed up and vanished through the roof while carrying the pot in one hand. The wall and ceiling molded and turned to goo to make room before sealing itself back together as if nothing had happened. If the second storey of the house was for Pandora only, than the greenhouse was super duper Pandora only. No could could enter this place unless they had superpowers. The greenhouse itself was full to bursting, a small glass hut full of flowers of all kinds. The perfect place for creating and maintaining life. Around the perimeter of the greenhouse and inbetween the three foot high wall around the edges of the roof was various types of exercising equipment. Treadmills and bench presses and dumbells. A small personal gym, isolated and open air. There was no door into the greenhouse. Instead Pandora phased through it like she did the roof. Placing the pot down she drew water from the air, concentrated it into water, and showered the injured plant with water. Running her thumb gently over it once more, the flower stood slightly straighter and had more color returned to it's pink petals. [color=fdc68a]"You just say here, little fella. You'll feel better soon. I'll be back in a few hours to check up on you."[/color] Sighing, she phased through the glass walls of the greenhouse. Picking up a nearby 30 pound dumbell, she absent-mindedly lifted it up and down in her left arm as she looked over what she could see of her street. Most of the other buildings were a similar height to her own. Pandora sat down and rested her right arm on the edge of the wall around the roof while playing with the dumbell in her left hand. She could see the towering downtown of New Athens. Turning, she could see Savior Island. [color=fdc68a]"[i]Ugh.[/i] Savior Island. How far up one's own ass can one get? 'Savior Island'." [/color] Pandora complained derisively under her breathe, staring at HERO One anxiously, enviously, guiltily. She let her cheek fall onto the back of her hand and stayed there for a while, her orange eyes occasionally flicking down to the street below to see if any customers were entering the building.