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.”
Primrose cautiously took a seat upon the cushion, sitting on her heels and arranging the fabric of her dress around her legs. "Expecting me?" She asked warily, raising her gaze to meet the eyes of this unknown woman. She didn't look dangerous, surely...
This scrawny, elderly woman seemed friendly enough, despite whatever threats she could be hiding. Primrose cleared her throat, dropping her hands into her lap neatly as she finally answered the woman's question. "I'm looking for a new place to stay, somewhere... quiet," she answered lips thinning into a grimace. "Wherever I go, people seem to find me, though I no longer want to be found. I want a family. I want to grow old in a home that has grown old with me, fingers calloused from years of sewing, not from wielding a blade." Primrose blinked quickly- why was she being this open with a stranger? A hag in a tent who seemed to know her face felt trustworthy, despite a life that taught her the opposite.
Regardless, the old woman might have a place in mind for her- hopefully one that didn't reek of rot and decay. Quiet or not, the mud here had stained the hems of her dress. Sucking in a reluctant breath, she finally asked her question. "Would you know of such a place?"
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