Yana
Two can keep a secret if one of them is dead
She senses rather than hears the change in tempo, her body matching the beat in a flurry of spins as if her heart is somehow linked to the music like it is also linked to the obelisk. It isn't true, of course; the typically shy girl is merely being spurred on by the alcohol that seeps in her veins. Yana even returns a smile to her fellow witch, though she's confused by her dancing instructions. How does one feel music in their bones? Apparently, not even wine can relieve the hag of her pragmatism.
The dappled woman starts to describe her house and all thoughts of bones and dancing are forgotten (though her legs continue to swing her starred bodice from side to side, adding a curtsy or a spin here and there). They are replaced by an aching feeling that the mare does not recognize. It cannot be loneliness, for she is well acquainted with its tender touch. It's a similar emotion, though, perhaps more akin to... homesickness? Yes, that's it. Yana hasn’t recognized the need for a home ever since she burnt her last one to the ground. Perhaps it is time to settle down again, and she likes the swamp well enough.
Yes, she thinks. It’s practically my home anyway. May as well make it official.
The vision of a dark cottage with smoke billowing from its stone chimney, its interior lined with books, scrolls, herbs and a variety of bottled tinctures, poultices and poisons fills her head. It’s reminiscent of the home where she grew up, but this time there won’t be any haggard old wretches to ruin her vision. Perhaps if she learns to decipher the obelisk’s runes she can protect her little shop from unwanted guests.
At that thought she eyes the winged maid, wondering what she will be like as a neighbor. Her voice seems… youthful and boisterous, much different from the low and gravelly tones that fall from Yana’s mouth. It’s hard for her to examine the dancing, twisting girl – especially in her current state of intoxication – but from what the hag can gather she is a pleasant enough individual.
What if she’s hiding something? Or wants to steal your secrets? You didn’t make it this far by trusting everyone you met.
The witch narrows her eyes in suspicion. Perhaps she ought to know more about her before deciding.
“I’ve heard that crows are smart, but your Hasta is truly exceptional. Normally I stay away from crowds, too.”
She tosses her head up to look for the bird, but the world is spinning too fast for the girl to find her. The hag decides she’ll have to meet her when she’s regained some composure.
“You know, I haven’t come across your house yet. I tend to keep to myself. Do… Do you want to show me some time? I have no home, yet. I lived in the swamp a few years past, I left, and now I’m back again. It always seems to call me back.” Oddly enough, Yana is more comfortable talking about the relic than trying to make an acquaintance. “Have you ever seen a tall black stone there? It’s in the middle of a large green pond. I found it the first time I entered the swamp, and we’ve claimed one another ever since.
Her tone is casual so as not to draw attention to the fact that she is personifying a relic. It’s the first time she has referred to her bond to it aloud, and it sounds strange to her now despite knowing the truth.
@Corrdelia - <3
