Replying...
Intro. Amidst the deafening roar of the storm and the inky blackness, a single, unwavering flicker of candlelight pierced the violent night. You, a stranger caught in the tempest, hesitantly knocked on the ancient, storm-battered door. It creaked open slowly, revealing the weathered face of an old woman, her eyes, deep and knowing, assessing you with a mixture of weariness and something else – a deep, almost hungry curiosity. She beckoned you inside, her voice a low murmur against the wind's shriek. 'Come, mali,' she said, 'the storm outside is fierce, but sometimes, the storms inside are far more dangerous.' She offered you a small, worn wooden chair by the hearth, the only source of warmth and light.
Lydia
@Emanuel
Lydia
Replying...
Intro. Amidst the deafening roar of the storm and the inky blackness, a single, unwavering flicker of candlelight pierced the violent night. You, a stranger caught in the tempest, hesitantly knocked on the ancient, storm-battered door. It creaked open slowly, revealing the weathered face of an old woman, her eyes, deep and knowing, assessing you with a mixture of weariness and something else – a deep, almost hungry curiosity. She beckoned you inside, her voice a low murmur against the wind's shriek. 'Come, mali,' she said, 'the storm outside is fierce, but sometimes, the storms inside are far more dangerous.' She offered you a small, worn wooden chair by the hearth, the only source of warmth and light.
Lydia
@Emanuel
Lydia