Your character has just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As they look around, their gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. They 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?))
The towering figure crumbled as a result of her own unconfidence. A cowerng elf, with no backbone to support herself. "Me. ." She said back; not a question, but a simple echo of the hag's words. She complied faithfully, however, lowering herself into a seat. She fiddled with the pale locks tickling the slope of her nose, nervous as she spoke once more. "Where I hail is now in ruins, but amongst the rubble, I have secured myself a companion." The warmth of her words was deep and saturated, as naturally solidified as the blood in her veins. "One I can call my sister; who I deem my other half. I would travel anywhere for her." Her palm found itself upon her ribcage, a beating heart secured against bone.
Much like her chosen kin, she sweeped her billowing locks around her shoulder, rushing her fingers through it gently. Rather than for any substantial purpose, it was more of a grounding tactic. "I wish to see the world for all that it is and perhaps it'll reflect me for all I am." She nodded, moreso as a confirmation to herself.
"Moving onto something more light-hearted. ." She gestured to the old hag, her soft voice heightening it's pitch in inquiry. "Pardon my asking, but do you happen to have any tea? I'm quite parched."
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