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?))
Honestly, it was a rather weird question. Melina didn’t hesitate to show that on their face; it contorted into a small cringe before quickly shifting back to a pleasant smile. “Ah, that’s uh.. lovely. Not sure how you know me.. but that’s okay..” They plopped onto the cushion, shifting uncomfortably. Melina cleared their throat, before continuing to speak. “Ahem, right. Uh, well firstly i’m just passing through. I had to go grab some uh, ingredients.” Melina’s speech was quiet and awkward, slightly grating. Their eyes darted around the tent, trying to avoid any eye contact to the best of their ability. “My story— isn’t nothing much, I was born in Petra. My parents are bakers and uh.. so am I- I'm sure that much is obvious.” The baker gestured to their own getup, a simple apron and shirt. Just regular clothing you would see on a regular civilian. Melina frowned, racking their brain for something interesting to add to their retelling; only to find nothing. “That’s.. about.. it.” Their voice got quieter as they continued talking, until an awkward pause filled the air. “Uh, sorry. There’s nothing really much to it.. it’s really boring- I’m sure you’ve heard better! How about you introduce yourself—“ They gave another awkward smile, at least trying to brighten the situation and ignoring the feeling of their stomach bunching up.
