Squishmilo

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?))

Elisen adjusts her pose, smooths out her dress and hesitates as she eyes the cushion. There is a thin layer of dust and grime built up on the fabric, and Elisen hopes that mould spot is actually dirt.

"Oh, I'd prefer to stand if that's all right," Elisen's eyes return to the old woman, "I just travelled a long distance by carriage and I'd prefer to stretch my legs."

The old woman squints at her, but says nothing. Elisen takes this as her cue to sit, grimacing as she eases herself onto the cushion. She looks up at the old woman for confirmation, before continuing to speak.

"Honestly, I didn't expect to be telling my story upon our meeting. But fair is fair, knowledge for knowledge." Elisen's eyes drift from the old woman down to her own hands, choosing her words carefully. "I'm looking for my parents. I know that Ma is doing the best she can for me, but there's only so much an adoptive mother can do. I've had this feeling in my chest for the past few years, gnawing away at my insides." 

Elisen's composure breaks for a mere second, as she blinks away the tears that threaten to form in her eyes. Her gaze lands back on the old woman and she clears her throat, attemping to mask her shaky voice.

"I know they're probably dead or want nothing to do with me, and that's fine. I just want to know their names. The rest of my family's names. I was told by Ma that you could lead me in the right direction."