Poetcraze

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.”

-

The elf's nose wrinkles to the stench that lingers still about the area. No burning candles can quite mask it, her eyes crinkling to the smoke, waving a hand around. She stares over, with dark inky eyes of her own - glaring down the hag that cranes her neck toward her. A light scoff escaping her, or perhaps, it's the stuffy atmosphere alone. Her attention delves down over to the dilapidated cushion. Gods - how many people have sat on this thing? Far too many, that's for certain... are the thoughts that linger in her head. 

But alas, she takes her seat, her place in this. "I just need to find a place - somewhere to stay. Any place." She starts, admitting some of her vague reasoning to the old woman. Eyes cast down to the murky dirt beneath her, not daring - not caring, to look upon the hag. "I hardly know why you'd ever expect a face like me here," a dry laugh leaves her, pushing back a strand of her hair, something empty in those eyes of hers. "'lest you get women like me trying to find something better out there." Not at all giving in entirely to telling her tale, just the bare minimum before her eyes flit up toward the woman.

Studying the old woman right back. 

Of course she had a reason for being here - She wasn't all too happy with her own Seed. Their competitive fights were never all that friendly when it regarded her. Not that she was any good to begin with, always clumsy with a bow in her hands - and utterly useless with hunting with that said. Her own mother had sneered at her and her older sister was no less kind. The only one who'd ever been nice to her was her father - not that it lasted much long with his passing soon after. Delilah sought to find something new something... somewhere that would accept her when she'd not been even born well into the seed and culture she had been embedded into from creation.

Still, she refused to tell the old woman.