Prim

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?)) Periwinkle hesitates for a moment, her green eyes flickering in the dim light of the candles. She runs a hand through her long, white hair, nervously shifting on her feet before taking a deep breath. The air in the tent feels heavy, thick with the scent of damp earth and something older, more ancient. "I suppose... you would know, wouldn't you?" Periwinkle says softly, stepping closer and sitting on the cushion, her fingers brushing the worn fabric. "My story isn’t one most would care to hear, but I’ll tell it." She pauses, her gaze distant as she recalls her past. "I come from a quiet village, hidden among the rolling hills far from here. My people were simple folk, living off the land, but... I was always different." She glances at the old hag, her expression unreadable. "Born with this," she gestures to her snow-white hair, "and eyes that see more than they should." Periwinkles voice lowers, her tone carrying a weight. "My mother used to say I had the gift of foresight, but in our village, they called it a curse. I saw things—visions of what was to come, of dangers lurking in the shadows. People feared me for it. So, I left. Set out on my own, wandering from place to place, never staying long. I thought if I could escape the visions, I could find peace." She lets out a small, bitter laugh. "But the visions never stopped. They led me here, to this swamp, to you. So, tell me, why have you been expecting me? What am I supposed to find in this forsaken place?" Periwinkle leans forward, her green eyes meeting the old hag’s, the flickering candlelight reflecting in their depths. "Because something tells me... this is where my story truly begins."