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.”
Aster looks behind themselves, narrowing their eyes as they search for another person she could have been addressing.
Only the bedraggled and musty tent is in their view and they inwardly groan at the thought of sitting down in the damp tent with the chill in the air. Turning their gaze back to the old woman, "Uh. I don't believe I caught your name..." They fidget awkwardly with their coat, the raised textures of the tiny aster flowers embroidered on the cuffs soothes them with its familiarity.
"Well, I'm Aster. It's quite a long story. I'm not sure where to begin."
They sit opposite the old hag, surprised at the plushness of the tattered cushions. She stares intently back at them and Aster sees kindness and warmth in her expression. They suppose it might be nice to discuss the past few weeks with a friendly soul, after all it's been a long and exhausting journey..
"I guess it started when my dear friend met this group of travellers. My village is small and close-knit and while we do get regular visitors, they don't tend to stick around very long. There was something a wee odd 'bout these ones, almost as if they wanted something from us. I didn't know it at the time but the something they wanted.." Aster trails off, their breath catching as remembered fear and sadness fills their mind.
The old woman reaches out her hand and gently grasps their shoulder in quiet support. Aster takes a deep breath and continues,
"It was terrible, some kinda dark, awful magic.. My dear friend he.. he is gone. I couldn't be there anymore. I want to start over."
The young halfling stares into the distance, gaze directed at the outside of the tent without properly seeing it. They've pondered much about how to move on and also honour their beloved friend. They think about starting a new garden and taking up weaving and embroidery. Perhaps even a memorial garden with the flowers that were his favourite?
Either way, they want a fresh start somewhere new, with new faces and new food to try. For the first time in a while, they feel a flutter of excitement.
Recommended Comments