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.”
A man with the lightest white hair and the darkest purple eyes entered, curious to what happened at this old village. He was surprised, at first, when he caught a glimpse the old hag. Though, He didn't question it. The smoke was formed at the top of the tent, making this mysterious feeling that he enjoyed. The man, yet again, had just ran from his parents. He was growing bored of their overprotectiveness. The man's eyes darted around the tent before he sat on the ripped cushion. "How do you know who I am?" He put forward as his eyes met hers. "I don't believe I've seen you around before, nor have I even been around here."
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