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?))
Elisia takes every step carefully, her fingertips grazing over the candle's wax, tapping the droplets that seemed to drop down mysteriously, they're warm, gooey and almost comforting... She lets her hand graze back down, slowly, touching the hilt and admiring its beauty, before finally letting go and focusing on the elder woman once again.
"Excuse me, miss.. Did you say a word or two?"
She asked, her voice soft, gentle like the flapping of a new-born birds wings in the crack of dawn, her eyes, as if two orbs of purity held underneath the waves of a red, dangerous sea, focused on the woman's aged, dry skin. The once held youth now gone, although never forgotten in it's passing. She smiled softly at her, her lips plump, as if full of sweet joy with the smile they formed. She looked as if she embodied water itself, her hair cascading down her back like a beloved memory of the ocean from her own past, each sudden flick in an opposite direction like waves, each strand soft and smooth, her hair swaying to the side as she tilted her head at the woman, also revealing her pointed elven ear, a gold earring on the upper part of it, near the tip.
"Mind repeating your words? My dearest apologies.."
After a short while of repeating, Elisia nodded and plopped herself down on the cushion, accepting the kind offer.
"Well, if it's a story you want, it's a story you'll get... First, my name is Elisia Val'arrian. The Daughter of a Dark Elf, my dearest mother, and a Wood Elf, my father whom I hold close to my heart. Both, I do."
Elisia introduced herself and her heritage, placing a hand on her chest. She gripped her robe in the area just above her heart, sighing softly in the fond memories that flooded through her head. How her father frequently took her to the rivers, lakes or ponds in the Woods. Her favorite areas always include water, it always has been as such. When her mother would train her to fight on the sand, her spirit strong, but never as strong as her body.
"I.. Was raised with my mother, but we very frequently visited the Woods to see my father.. Until one day- When we visited, we couldn't find him. W-We- We..."
Her deep red eyes began to tear up, the clear droplets slipping down her skin, wetting it in sorrow and lost loved ones. She took a shaky, deep breath, wiping her cheeks with the long sleeve of her robe, revealing the golden ring connected to the fabric and her middle finger. It glistened, the flames of the candles reflecting in it's beauty. Soon, she regained herself and spoke once more to the old hag.
"My mother told me to wait by a tree. It was big, she'd find me easily.. She said she was off to search alone, she had an idea where he was... So I waited there. A day turned to two, two turned into three.. I was so hungry, that I gave up and left my spot. I began living from the Woods, only when I was 7, and well.. Here I am now. Heh..."
She gave a small, awkward laugh to try and brighten the saddened mood. Although her tears may have stopped, the sorrow in her eyes didn't. She looked upset, but, quickly gave one of her smiles again, not fake, a real one, speaking up to the old lady.
"But! I live today as proof of their lives, and I won't waste it!"
She claimed, her delicate voice loud in that moment, before she humbly apologized for the sudden outburst, and swiftly left the tent.
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