Apricette

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?)) Exhaustion - terse, languid breaths parted trembling, hushed lips, devoid of aught but the faintest semblance of caution, as her form emerges into the comparative warmth of the tent, slowly laying down her myriad effects, as her chilled form finally finds respite, in the elder woman's prompting words, and hospitality. "Heaven's forfend, then it must be fate- I scant suffer to imagine how much longer I would of fared in the cold." As the trembling relented, her arms cupped tight unto arms, friction gently bid unto the hopes that it might relieve her of the last vestiges of the cold's bitter bite. "As you can see-" She gazes to her effects, her lips splayed into the faintest smile, betraying her bemusement - an over-sized tanned-leather luggage, the kind oft affixed to one's mount due to it's size & weight, seemingly filled to the brim with the maiden's entire worldly possessions. "- I'm making for Valfleur; after the conclusion of the Acre Rebellion, and the end of the Kingdom of Oren, well.. our family was left with little more than the legacy of it's former duty, you see.. my father, and forefathers before him, served the late Kingdom, and Empire before it, and with it's fall, so too did our prospects.." Her lips parted to speech, but ceased, pursing closed in a moment of restraint, and grief.. a faint smile forcing the thought away, the sole foil to the immense pain echoing the recollection, as she bids her lips part anew. "..This sennight, his heart's flame was extinguished.. and with it, did our legacy pass on to me.. this might be the Kingdom of Oren no longer, but this is yet my torch to bear." Star-spun eyes, glistened amidst the flicker of candlelight, the onset of tears, brushed away by the faintest digit's touch - sorrow splayed her lips no longer, but fondness, warmth, love - for her father, mother, and long-gone kin. "Heaven's forfend, to think I would suffer steal your time such - I deeply apologize, and thank you for your kindness!" Amusement splayed her lips, as she catches herself lost once more in her passions - gently raising her digits, such that they cup the elder woman's own, between a handful of currency, nearing to her last - as alms for her patience, warmth & kindness, before raising her form, from the comfort of her seated self. "Freydes’Sol, and Heaven's blessings ma'am - I pray I'll grace your tent again one morrow, and have more than my heart & pittance in exchange-"