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?))
Nyein would hum, looking the woman before them up and down. she didn't respond for a long while, taking in the scene around them, their nose scrunching at the smells invading their nostril, not being used to such a sour scent. They opened their mouth to speak, mouth agape as they thought of how to respond. Their hands fiddled with the fabric that wrapped around them, eyes locking onto the female as if trying to force the words out by looking at her.
"ah, expecting? how could you be expecting someone such as I?"
They would pause again, a small roll of their eye as they plopped down on the cushion the woman previously gestured to. They took in a breath, speaking once again. An almost exhausted, tired tone laced their voice.
"but.. I suppose since you're so curious, I was simply following my sisters path, Myein. I couldn't allow her to travel on her own, we haven't a story to give, nothing detrimental to know. Besides, if you're expecting us, you must already know why we are here. I follow Myein's path to assure her safety, she's my story, my reasoning after all."
They stared blankly after they got it out, a tight grip on the fabric. They seemed tense, despite the exhaustion that wrapped and spewed in the energy around them.
