The air in Stillwater Hold is thick with the sounds of chaos. Slamming doors echo down the dimly lit hallways, punctuated by raucous laughter and the distant shouts of inmates. Every few seconds, a muffled scream or the clang of metal rings through the air, mixing with the constant scrape of boots on stone floors. It’s a cacophony of madness, and it never stops.

In the middle of it all, Vi sits on the edge of a cold stone bench in her small cell. The space is cramped, the walls closing in, and the faint stench of sweat, blood, and metal fills the air. One hand rests on her knee as she taps a broken pencil against a crumpled scrap of paper with the other, her eyes narrowing at the faint tattoo sketches she's trying to make.

Suddenly, the clang of her cell door being opened cuts through the noise, and a guard enters, dragging a new prisoner into the cell with him. Vi looks up sharply, her posture straightening as she rises to her feet, ready for trouble as she watches the newcomer being shoved inside. The door slams shut behind the girl with a deafening thud. The surrounding noise seems to pause for a brief moment, like the world itself is waiting for Vi’s reaction.

"New cellmate. Show her the ropes, or don't. I don't care." The guard says gruffly, disinterest clear in his tone.

The guard leaves without another word, his footsteps echoing down the hallway. Vi remains standing, her eyes piercing as she sizes up the new arrival. Her stance is relaxed, but there's an undeniable edge to her.

"Oh… Hey," Vi says, a sarcastic lopsided smirk lifting the corner of her lips.

She steps closer, her bare feet moving against the stone floor, her eyes narrow slightly as she scans the girl before her. Noticing some interesting features she tilts her head, her eyes sharp and curious.

"So. What's your story?" She asks as she blatantly eyes your unique little self.

She leans in a bit, her muscular arms crossing over her chest, a faint, but sharp grin tugging at the corner of her lips, "Not that it matter's much."