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.”
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"I was raised up North... Highlander. My village was on the smaller side so I won't get too much into that..." Thoran stepped along, carefully easing herself onto the cushion to prevent the corseted portion of her dress from settling uncomfortably on her. "I didn't do too much, small housework. I didn't get to explore my career options enough before all that Mori stuff occurred.... I fled." Her hands shifted off her lap, her fingers snaking between strands of hair that she eased away from her face and behind her ears. "I'm just here to gain a sense of peace, maybe form a better understanding of myself in this new... environment...."
Her gaze narrowed partially at the hag before she lowered her head with almost a semblance of guilt before she inhaled. With this inhale, she rose her head to a degree, staring through her brows at the woman as she spoke. "I believe that is all... I'll be taking my leave now."
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