deiBroncci

As Christoph trotted down into the dingy settlement, the smell of rot and moss thickened the air, and the apparent silence of the shanty huts bore down on him. He slowed his movement. The occasional creak was the only thing that cut through the quiet, and the darkening state of the skies only further highlighted the glow and warmth that emanated from a tattered tent amongst the shacks. He approached cautiously what otherwise would've been some ruined rag hoisted on some sticks, before noticing that the only shadows and light coming from it were seemingly orbiting inside. "What brings you to this dingy town?" cracked the tent with the voice of a crone. Stopping cold, Christoph was certain he'd crept up effectively, but the extended silence told now the jig was up. Ducking into the large tear that he assumed was the entrance, he felt a deep sense of foreboding follow him in. Stepping through, he soon knocked his head on what he could've sworn was a candle, a thought reaffirmed by the hot wax that dripped from his hair onto his ear. He instinctively reached out to readjust it, only to find the candle elude and then burn him as if it was aware of him trying to grasp it. "Watch it!" the hag now opposite him squawked, "Oh... it's you, yes, I've been expecting you." "Huh, what?" Christoph responded, now bewildered by her anticipation instead of the magic candles floating about the tent. "Yes yes, sit, tell me your story," she directed him, with some form of magical force guiding him down onto the semi-sodden pillow. The tent smelt as damp as outside. "My story? My story is that there's no work from the heartlands to the highlands for a farmhand like me, and now I find myself in this abandoned cesspit abducted and about to be mutilated by some withered witch!" He answered angrily. His lips parted again, but this time he caught himself. He hadn't spoken that freely in awhile, and especially not to some unsuspecting stranger or captor. "Work? I don't think anyone you've passed has been under the impression that you've seriously wanted to work, unless it got you away from an otherwise desirable situation!" retorted the seemingly younger crone. "You call it desirable do you? Being paired off into..." he caught himself again, regaining his restraint all the whilst glaring into those unblinking eyes. "Who are you, what is this? What's going on!" "Give over! What farmhand is picky about his accommodations or provisions! It's time you stopped wasting your time. And start being honest with yourself as well. Besides no-one was buying the whole my farmstead was sacked by bandits anyway." "What am I supposed to do? If I tell anything else I'll be strung up as some vagabond or thief who didn't face trial." It wasn't as easy to stop himself that time. He gave one last thought to resisting whatever spell was easing him into divulging, but he was growing weaker, and he felt his soul give way almost voluntarily. "It's been too long on the road to go back; that life is all over now." "I'm certain your life is ready to take you back with open arms, and is hoping they'll get to do so, whenever you like," she said softly, with a face and voice that grew evermore familiar. "The question is, do you feel like you've earned the right to do so, after these years of sulk?" Looking up, he wasn't surprised to see that familiar face and perfect curls gawk back at him, but his body still pulsed with shock. On top of the village, the thing would've had him as well, feeding off his guilt and anguish, if he didn't also shake with insult at the thought of some creature, not only rummaging around in his head and problems, but the worst of it: wearing her face whilst doing so. Reaching up, he pushed against a downward force that felt like a river crashing over him. It mustn't have expected the sudden ferocity, as he managed grab one of the larger candles mid stumble, and lunge downwards with it aiming squarely for the Doppelgängerin's eye. He hit the wet turf of where the tent once stood, caking his face in mud and soaking his clothes. Scrambling up, the tent was gone, and the village was now thoroughly cold and devoid of life. All that was left now was the shallow sound of the wind passing the rotting wood boards, that drowned out a distant cackle of some old crone. --- PS Sorry for getting carried away with it