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.”
((How do you respond?))
(Greetings to you) (Great Light)
"Vendui'ulu dos, stranger. I come from a land of moonlight- blessed by the stars and guided by our Mother, Zhennu Ssussun. My story, it is.. bleak. My sisters and aunts saw danger in my appearance, what they hissed beneath their teeth as a beautiful calamity. My skin, it is.. adorned in white. But only in small patches, you see. My name- given to me not by my mother's birthright, but by her terrible suitor. 'Evil Moon', it means. My eyes, once regarded as illustrious as the Ichor within living beings, now struck fear within my kin. My hair, once revered for it's pearlescent shade, now deemed a liability. No longer was I allowed to aid the huntresses in their endeavors, forced beneath the brine due to my 'accursed' appearance. Day by day, my mother became less and less tolerant. My sisters wretched, my aunts indifferent- my father, heartless. In my independence, I sought retribution for the abuse. But it was all for naught, as I found myself fleeing from a hunt just weeks after my ceremony."
The Woman before you can be seen messing with her fingers, body language naturally dismissive and featherlight- a sign of submission, as if afraid to speak much longer. Elongated ears twitch, abnormal eyes dart. There is tension in the air, so thick you could shatter a blade upon it. She seems constantly on alert, akin to a lioness sitting in an open field. Her posture is regal yes, but exudes a hue of danger. Not towards you in particular, but.. in general.
There is a moment of silence, unable to convey her ideas into words so fluently as she used to. Years of shunning having eroded her once boisterous attitude, reduced to nothing more than a scavenger amidst the fray. It was embarrassing, to say the least. And she wondered if her Mother would feel the same. Suddenly, as you part your lips to comment, she's up on her feet in a rapid movement- staggeringly so, head on a swivel towards the exit. She seems to freeze, recalculating her movements before turning toward you. Her upper body dips into a sharp bow, before rising once more to meet your gaze. A glint is present in her eyes... hope, perhaps?
"I apologize, stranger. I wished not to spill each detail of my misery, but perhaps you may find solace or curiosity in this past. I only wish you do not see ill of my upbringing."
The exchange is brief, yet firm. With an unseen grace, she dips out of the small hut, clothing swaying behind her as a kind of parting message behind her trademark silence.
