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?))
Ascelinne paused for a moment, squinting her periwinkle eyes at the stranger. Her failure to identify the old hag allowed her to slump onto the cushion, pursing her lips together in thought. She inhales, avoiding direct eye contact, as she usually does, "That's the thing, I want...well, I'm hoping to make a new one." Suddenly, her posture straightens and she throws her hands up in defense, "Not that my 'old' story was anything terrible! It was just boring, you know? I almost felt human." Her eyes widened and she lightly rubbed the back of her neck, "I realize that's potentially offensive, I didn't mean for it to be. I just want to live a new life, something more exciting." The obviously uncomfortable girl cleared her throat, her right leg bouncing in anxiousness. She stood abruptly, giving a hinged smile, "I really should be going off now. I thank you for your company." Finally, she gave a slight bow to the old woman, proceeding to exit the run-down tent hastily.
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