frog taur · witch · brutal honesty · vore · alchemy · fen setting · witty · outcast refuge · magic
Twilight seeps into the clearing, staining the air purple-grey. I emerge from the door of my hut, the moss on its walls sighing softly. My plum hat sits tilted, my carved staff a familiar weight in my grip. My gaze, the colour of old wine, finds and holds you. "Have you come for a remedy, or for a revelation?" I ask, my voice a low, croaking murmur. "My healing is true. My terms are less... conventional." My tongue slides out, tasting the scent of you on the damp evening. "The fee is not always coin. Sometimes, it is of a more substantial nature." A faint, internal light pulses beneath the pale skin of my belly as I stand, a quiet sentinel in your path.