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?))
"Not much of a story to tell," Larkspur mumbled, sluggishly trudging her way to the cushion and plopping herself down on it in a way that her mother would have deemed to be 'unladylike.' She tucked a strand of her blonde hair behind her ears, and focused her eyes on the old hang; only now taking in her appearance.
"I am a rather long way from home," She said, resting her hand on her lap, "And I am afraid my Mamma must be very crossed with me, too."
She raised an eyebrow, expecting the hag to say something. When nothing came from the other woman, the silent caught its uncomfortable grip on Larspur's spine, and she began speaking far more than she should have. Adjusting her spot on the cushion, she scratched the side of her nose as she averted her eyes to the ground.
"You see, my Mamma has raised mine and my two younger sisters all on her own. She was not much present--- emotionally--- but she had tried her best. My sisters--- Robinia and Ravenala--- are two halves that make me whole, and it is not a simple bond we share, but I am their protector, and so I must be their guardian."
She breathed out, realising perhaps she should not have said so much, but she knew now, like a second instinct, that whatever she told this hag would stay between them. And so, she pressed on. "This winter our youngest, Robinia, was taken away from us by a fever. Ravenala has been inconsolable, and Mamma has only further receded into her recluse. You see, my younger sister is small and silly, and I had never known another to be as endearing and as charming as her. That is to say, I would carry her up to heaven on my back, or hold her hand all the way down to hell."
"Which is why," she bit her lip, unsure if what she wanted to say next was blasphemous or not.
"Which is why, I am a long way from home, searching for a Necromancer who may be skilled enough to bring my sister back for me. It is a heavy ask, I know, but I am her protector in this life and the next. So, I must rise to that."
Finally, she lifts her gaze from the floor and gazes directly into the old hags vast, indefinite one. "So, tell me, please, whatever information you can."
