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?))
The tent flap closes behind her with a rather moist, disconcerting noise. The warmth of the tent only creates a strong wall of thick air and stench- different yet familiar to the horrid stench just outside. Oksu pauses inside, her gaze lifting upon the hag when she begins to speak. She tried to conceal her surprise at the presence, she had assumed the retched place had been abandoned. She'd of abandoned it too.
A slow smile curves onto her lips.
"Floating lights, I was expecting a little something more from this place."
Her gaze softens on the hag, and then to the rather comfortable looking pillow in front of her. Oksu hadn't sat down properly in days. Her legs yearned for rest. And so, she gave in to her urges and sat in front of the hag. The smell of another in front of her felt warm as she offered her a more genuine smile.
"Expecting me? I do hope you've heard only good things."
She crosses one leg over the other, making herself comfortable.
"But since you know who I am, I suspect you know I also don't believe in coincidence." Her eyes scanned her surroundings quickly for any clue of who this mysterious hag is, and seemed to know her so well. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed one of her fathers old books. He had been a historian, before his execution.
Her father was prosecuted for writing 'distorted accounts' of Mali’ker history. For a moment, her heart froze still. Her father had taken the blame for his own research, yes. But Oksu knew, in her gut, that her silence damned him. She had read his papers, she had read them all. She knew the exact book that was on the hag's shelf simply by the cover. She knew her father was onto something real. But how could she risk her own safety for her already damned father's freedom? She had goals of her own, one's that didn't involve meddling in history and scholarship. Oksu knew that was a waste of time. Her ambition was rooted in politics. She knew that was the only way out of these misfortunes she had been handed. Her cards were bad, but she had a charisma and charm her father never had. The only issue was, the book on the hag's shelf was supposed to be burned and destroyed. How did she get her hands on it? Her greedy, warty hands.
However, Oksu didn't come here for anything about her father. He has only ever held her back. She was already 10 steps behind every other political figure of her aspiring rank (not that she had a rank yet) because of his legacy. She had to continue. She had to be disciplined.
"The world beyond the marsh is shifting. Alliances are straining." Oksu locks eyes with the hag for the first time. "I have come to know that those who sit on the outside, dwelling in forgotten lands, tend to see far more than they would ever let on."
There is no accusation in her voice. Only intregue.
"So tell me, all-seeing one, what exactly do you see forming?" Oksu leans slowly back, resting her hands behind her. "And where do I stand when it does?"
