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?))
After a moment of hesitation, Myali offered her a faint smile. “Hello,” she said, gently lowering herself onto the cushion and propping one knee up. “My… story. That’s really where you want to begin? I don’t even know your name.” She peered at the woman expectantly.
Met only with silence and that intent gaze, Myali raised her eyebrows and said, “Of course, yeah, I could just start there. I’m a livestock handler. I can do hard, honest work, which I’m here to find. Somewhere.” She added that last bit with a small laugh. “I’m pretty crafty, I work well with my hands…”
Her brow furrowed, and she looked at the ground. “Sorry. You asked about my story. It’s just, my parents raised me to—” She bit the side of her tongue, appearing uncomfortable. “I won’t bore you with the details,” she said eventually, “but I found out something about my birth that made me want to leave. I need to…” She looked up and blew out a slow, tense sigh. “I want to create my own life, my own personhood, outside of what they intended me for. I want to keep caring for animals, or for anyone really, not because butchering them and selling their products will make us more coin, but because it matters to me.” The bitterness had lifted from her voice, replaced by a sweeter, more hopeful tone.
Turning her gaze back on the woman, she smiled apologetically. “I know that’s not really realistic. Ahh, but what can you do?” She rested her elbow on her knee and let her head tilt in thought. “I’ll find something to take care of.”
In the silence, Myali let her eyes wander, taking in the candles hovering in the air, gently setting the tiny space aglow. “Thank you for having me here. Really.” She slowly looked back at the old woman. “I realized I never said—my name is Myali Redwillow. Will you tell me yours?”
((I have an actual backstory written, if you want to see it! I didn’t include it here because it wouldn’t be in character for Myali to tell every detail to a stranger))
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