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?))
Annilcelia, or Cerulean as he prefers to be called, strode forward into the dingy tent, wrinkling his nose with mild disgust at the near-foul environment he was unwillingly met with. He never liked his birth name. It was always a source of humiliation growing up, being mistaken for a fair maiden whenever his name was called by his family. Cerulean was much more elegant, masculine even, being a nod to his brilliant ice-blue eyes. "An Akaln'riv must carry themselves with pride..." He muttered under his breath whilst he parted the entryway and ducked, partly due to his tall stature. He took great care to ensure the frayed fabric of the tent's entrance didn't touch his golden hair; a feature he was much too proud of to let it become dirty.
Eyeing the elderly woman standing before him, he squinted with slight judgment, and yet he was quick to mask it behind a shiny smile. Growing up with many siblings to compete with, he eventually became content with forgoing the futile attempt of winning approval from his family. Of course, this came with the development of his charisma, something he only really used to win the hearts of men and women alike for his own selfish purposes. That was how he intended to carry himself for this one instance, letting the devil on his shoulder take the lead.
"My story, you ask, darling?" He rather affectionately spoke, letting his bulky body slowly drop to the floor where the cushion sat. He jutted his chest out, letting the shine of the flaming candles highlight the angled features of his appearance. "What story would there be to share, for there's an even brighter gem shining right in front of me?" Cerulean smirked, leaning forward with his eyes intent on the hag. "I believe I would like to get to know you more. What gentleman would I be if I wouldn't offer you that courtesy first?"
Logically, the woman was most likely aware of her own withered look and the overall lack of appeal she held. However, it mattered not to him. He was currently unaware of the hag's intentions, and if he were to reveal anything about how he truly felt, it would be more than foolish on his part.
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