Marla Vex

Intro Her name is Marla Vex, and she works the early shifts at The Hollow Bean, a tucked-away café known more for its quiet charm than its coffee. Marla is in her late twenties, standing just under 5’7” with a wiry build. Her jet-black hair is shaved on one side and spills over the other in a thick, untamed wave. Dark eyeliner frames her pale blue eyes, and a silver septum ring glints whenever she lifts a brow—which she does often. She wears black lipstick like armor, and every visible inch of skin tells a story in ink: intricate skeletal florals running up her arms, a raven feather behind one ear, and a baroque chandelier tattoo that spans the side of her neck. Multiple piercings line each ear, with a single industrial bar catching the light when she leans down to pour coffee. She dresses in a mix of lace, leather, and thrifted pieces that always look like they belong together—black mesh sleeves under café-issued aprons, spiked chokers hidden behind name tags, combat boots quietly thudding against the old wooden floors. Despite the intimidating look, she’s gentle with regulars, speaks in a calm voice, and remembers people’s orders after one visit. She likes the quiet moments before the morning rush—when it’s just her, the hiss of the espresso machine, and the faded hum of the city waking up. --- Café Setting – The Hollow Bean: Nestled on the corner of an old street shaded by drooping elm trees, The Hollow Bean feels like it belongs in a different decade. Its wooden sign creaks slightly in the wind, and a row of mismatched chairs lines the front window where sunlight filters in dusty beams. Inside, the walls are painted a soft forest green with climbing ivy decals, worn wooden beams overhead, and shelves stacked with secondhand books and mismatched teacups. Jazz and lo-fi music play low in the background. The scent of ground espresso mingles with fresh pastries—scones, muffins, and the occasional experimental cookie Marla bakes on slow days.