Snowdrop

Your character has just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As they look around, their gaze is 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?)) "Stories prompted are oft stories that would bore most" Ninimlinel giggles slightly as she dramatically takes a seat on the cushion "I suppose I could do it for coin but explaining where I got it to Sister would probably land me in trouble and lectures are even more boring than telling stories about myself..." The old hags face crinkles slightly, the faintest sign of impatience creeps its way on to her face - Ninimlinel notes this and whilst tempted to further delay, commits to the inevitable. "Sure, sure fine... why make Nini sing about the fall of Almaris or tell you how much she loves the Godswood this time of year, when you can make her speak about herself" Ninimlinel smirked at that last part, she started to see the appeal The furrow grew a little deeper as Ninimlinel's thoughts grew deeper; possibly she snapped out of it. "Right, yes... I'm Nínimlinel Ninmithrimiel, yes I can say it as perfectly, drunk as I can sober though I recognize few can say it whether they're drunk or not. You can call me Nini or Ninim if it makes it easier but maybe don't let my sister hear you, she's a little particular about the name thing. My story is rather barren unfortunate, I'm just a girl obsessed with other's stories, my Sister once told me that my voice and my usual knowledge was endearing and I've taken it to heart to test the limits of that ever since. I want to bring stories that no one's ever heard in song to the ears of anyone who'll listen and one day... I wanna..." her voice quietens a little and the faint flushes of pink start to appear on her face. "I'd like to sing in a grand court, really any will do" Ninimlinel giggles softly, a bit more genuine than her earlier one. Maybe it's the aroma of the candles, the woman's face or a lifetime of staring out of a window dreaming of ballrooms and gowns but she lets slip something a little personal. "For now though, I'm a wandering soul like anyone else, with a lute and nary a coin to my name and that's the most important thing..." She paused waiting for any sign of acknowledgement and then started again. "You know one time some guy walked up to me mid-song and asked if I could untie a cherry with my tongue? Can you believe that!? Sorry am I getting carried away? You don't like my voice? Ohhhh it's my hair right, it's not been brushed today, no no my Sister doesn't do it, I brush it you see! Or is there something on my dress? It's this damn swamp I tell you, you know back where I come from, you probably wouldn't have heard of it actually..." Ninimlinel continues like an ongoing story, a never ending illuminating candle flame, or I guess a songstress with just too much to say. Needless to say, it's a long time before she leaves the tent and not before she checks to see if the flames of the candles are hot.