Woompers

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?))

Iyera didn't need to say much for the old woman to know she was a fish out of water. If you ever asked her if she was born yesterday—she would of course laugh, and say no. However the more she talked, you might start to question if that was true. It was the way Iyera didn't ask why she said she'd been expecting her, perhaps she thinks everyone expects her. Or like many other things it was a thought dismissed, and beaten by the more compelling idea—of her story.

"My story?" She repeats with a smile, pulling the cushion closer before she settled into it. 

"Well there's not much to tell," she shrugs. Forcing her posture to be more straight, than it was naturally for her. She kept forgetting to maintain it, then adjusting it again.

"I decided to set off and see if the world ever ended-" she said. 

"-so far, I think it's infinite," the old woman chuckled, a deep chuckle like the croak of a toad. And the girl continued on...

"I left a letter for my mom back in Valfleur, I couldn't handle what she'd say to get me to stay—It's always something sad," the thought of her mother made her look down and to the right. But her eyes did not stay on the ground for longer than a breath.

"The dingy town is just another place in a series of places. Though this is my first time in a tent," she smiled. 

"Oh, and my name is Iyera—I should've started with that. What is yours?" But she didn't give the old woman time to answer—before she set off again. 

Iyeras' mother was a good mother—if she was ever bad it was because she loved being a mother too much. And anything else she could be, to her it just amounted to—alone. She raised Iyera with a bunch of small lies, like the gold of her jewelry being real. That her clothes were fancy and not just cheap linen. That though they struggled she was able to afford her daughter these luxuries—which were never luxurious at all. She never tried too hard to teach her daughter basic skills, like cooking or washing her own clothes. Because that meant she needed to rely on her for just a little longer. This all meant she grew to be a little sheltered in certain aspects, a little less knowledgeable than she'd like to admit. Defensive, and with an inherited bad habit of little lies. When she turned 19 they had a big fight. She wanted to go out and see the world, but her mother didn't want to let her go. So she left on her own. And realized the world was bigger than she thought. She wasn't very academically smart, she wasn't especially charming, in reality she wasn't much of anything—with a lot of nothing. Despite the brightness of her appearance, she wasn't special. And she realized that pretty quickly. And then, she didn't know what else to do—but wander.