Mezunaria

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?))
 

"Expecting me...?"

You watch the old lady suspiciously, but, gathering my dirty-looking dress, I sit down upon the cushion. For a split second, I appear visibly annoyed by the feel of the cushion, as though it's uncomfortable. Turning your head towards the woman, you let out a deep sigh. "I don't know who you are, but... w-well, it is good to meet someone. I've been walking for quite some time now, and I feel a little dizzy..."

Bringing a hand to your forehead, you take a few seconds to catch your breath. "I... oh, dear, I shouldn't be talking about this," you whisper. "Well, you are just some old woman after all..." Your rude words don't seem to faze the old woman, for she does not answer. In return, you feel a little more comfortable speaking, feeling like she will not judge you.

"My name is Eltheria d'Arles," you start. "As you can probably understand, I'm a Heartlander. I suppose I can be called lucky, as I was born into quite a wealthy family..."

You are not used to talking about yourself. The words feel heavy, like they've been on the tip of your tongue for far too long, when in truth it's only been a couple of days. You shuffle uncomfortably on the cushion, avoiding the old lady's stare. Nevertheless, you feel compelled to keep telling your story. "I did enjoy my early years as a rich, pampered child. Of course I did. Despite this, growing up means learning more about what it means to live in luxury. The men's stares start feeling uncomfortable, their touchiness starts feeling wrong and the corruption becomes obvious."

The old woman most likely does not understand the life you're speaking of. After all, this is just a tent, and nothing in her behaviour or clothing evokes nobility.

"This was a life I struggled to grew used to. However, that was how I was born, and I was still intelligent enough to know my position in society was something to be envied. I endured years of harassment, years of watching corrupt, immoral, cruel rich people take advantage of their social standing. And all I could do, being a woman, was stand there and pretend I couldn't see it."

A knot grows in your stomach. Remembering how it felt to be standing near the same people who would so easily sacrifice others for their own sake, hearing them whisper behind your back...

"I wanted all of that to end. All of it," you say, bringing a hand to your chest, gripping onto the fabric near your racing heart. "I ran away. I left everything behind. And the worst thing is, I did it on a whim. I did it because I was sad, I was angry, and that was too much to handle. Now, I'm convinced God gave me the courage to do it."

Finally, for the first time since you started speaking to the old lady, you show a hint of a smile. "But it was the right thing to do. I'm convinced of it, because when I walk through the forest, when I see wild animals passing by, I feel at ease. I feel free!" You stand from your seat, adjusting the hem of your long dress despite the dirt and mud covering it, and look down at the old woman, a confident look upon your face.

"I will take my life back into my own hands, and I will do it like a proper lady should."