Folks say that the Heartlanders are fast learners. Many would be inclined to agree; They are known for their literature, their art, their music. All, wonderful things in their own right. Growing up, though, Asra was less artsy and more scrappy. She never did like reading, the way the words almost seemed to dance on the pages was infuriating. Music wasn't so bad. She could play by ear, at least. But reading sheets was next to impossible. Her parents were less than thrilled with these events. It didn't matter much to her- As far as she was concerned, the most important thing was running around with the other goods and just having a good time. As a resident of Presa de Madera, this has always been easy to do. Easier still, as an eighteen year old girl looking to get into trouble and cause all kinds of glorified femme fatale havoc. Or so she claims, anyway. These days, it's hard not to look at the ships that come in on the Timberwood and feel longing for something more. Friends of hers might note that she gives particularly keen glances towards boats with fish.
Character Name: Asra Bright
Character Race: Heartlander
Character Gender: Female
Character Age: 18
Physical Description: 5'2" with a figure like an hourglass, Asra looks like a petite treat from behind. But her good figure is offset by her plain face.
Roleplay Scenario: The traveller has just arrived in a small town. As they look around, their gaze is met with run down houses and shops. They duck into one of the shacks, illuminated by a series of candles suspended in the air. At the back of the small room, an old hag raises her head, “What brings you to this dingy town?" She begins, then pauses to study their face—”Ah, it’s you. I’ve been expecting you. Sit,” she gestures at a chair, “Where do you come from? What do you hope to make of yourself?”
((How does your character respond? Please ensure your response is at least six sentences long, and uses at least two actions.))
Example: (delete this when you add your own)
"Oh, I just, uh…" The traveler stutters, tensing up. They eye the crone, then back outside the shack. For a moment, the air thickens with anticipation, until…
Screenshot of Skin:
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