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?))
"It's cold..." softly escapes her mouth. She rolls her fingers, articulating them against a frozen blood flow. Her skin has always been cold, but not to this extent. Rapidly, her ghastly eyes dart across the suffocating space in search of the slightest trace of warmth. She notices the scent of a hot brewing tea, maybe the woman truly was prepared for her arrival. "You knew I'd be in a shiver..." she mutters, "I can't seem to recall how I arrived. All I know is that I've been cold. A biting grip of frost nipped me in the night and I woke."
Backstory: At 20 years old, Lunive awoke one evening with no recollection of the past. The sensation of frost bitten terrors have plagued her since, as she searches for any resemblance of home in a place she's no longer recognized in. Whether she's been coldly shunned by the locals or frozen in time, Lunive is a forgotten soul turned nomad, gilded to the search for reason.
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