carvinalis

You’ve just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As you look around, your gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. You duck and step into a tattered tent, illuminated by a series of candles suspended in the air. At the back of the tent, an old hag raises her head, “What brings you to this dingy town? she begins, then pauses to study your face—”Ah, it’s you. I’ve been expecting you. Sit,” she gestures at a cushion, “Tell me your story.”

((How do you respond?))
 

Lark pauses, and tilts his head curiously, but does not otherwise seem bothered by this hag. It's odd for a stranger to be expecting him, but he takes it in stride and does as she asks without question. He sits down delicately, and smooths out his clothes as he does. "My story? I'm afraid I don't have much of one," He starts with a gentle smile on his face, never letting his gaze stray from the crone in front of him. It's intense, but does not seem unkind, "I can attempt to string something interesting together for you." Finally, he looks away, and focuses on the scenery around him. The tent itself is quaint to him, and while others might find this environment to be unsettling, he doesn't mind it in the slightest. The candles flicker across his features as he hums contemplatively searching for something to satisfy his audience with. "I think I just needed something new," is what he settles on. He slides his attention back on her and shrugs. "I had a family I stayed with. I had served for them since I was a child, but they were cruel, towards me and others in town," The admission of this is as easy as breathing air to him. It doesn't concern him anymore. "I left when I had the opportunity to. I've heard good things of this place during my time with my previous family. Good military, which means protection, and good job opportunities, like servantry, which I have experience in." His smile, which never wavered once during this conversation, turns a little coy, "Hopefully, I can fit in. I never really had a place I could call home. I'm getting tired of walking around and not being able to settle down permanently." He huffs playfully, not realizing his words could be alarming to some. A beat passes before he continues, "Well, that's all there is to me. Not very interesting. I'm quite interested in you though. Am I allowed to hear your story as well?" With that, Lark leans forward in anticipation, and awaits her next words.