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Stone in the shoe

When you were a kid, you lived with your grandmother in the small town of Silvertree, on the edge of a magical forest. Grandma is a witch, and she taught you how to use your magic to affect the natural world, too. “Magic is a part of you,” she always told you. “Learning how to use it means figuring out who you are.” Now you’re 19 and on your own. After years of living in the forest while you perfected your witchcraft, you’ve returned to take care of your grandmother’s house and crow-familiar while she’s gone. Figuring out who you are feels more important than ever - not to mention, figuring out what Silvertree is. A lot is just as you remembered: the friendly generous next-door neighbors with a kid just your age, the proud town council, the quaint little shops with quirky punny names, the gentle shadowy forest full of magic.

PlayerOliver · Kỳ huyễn
Không đủ số lượng người đọc
443 Chs

7

Once Dolores has left, you look around the room again, and you realize that it's beginning to grow a little quieter now. Then, looking toward the kitchen, you see that the back door is still slightly ajar; and you with that you remember that Marlowe had asked you to meet them in the yard if you were still at the memorial in a few minutes' time. Everything Dolores just told you had pushed everything else out of your head for a little while, but now it comes back to you—and right away you make for the kitchen doorway.

As you go through the back door and step outside, the sound of voices fading behind you, you see Marlowe at once, standing in front of a large pond near the end of the well-pruned yard. You make your way towards them slowly, not wanting to intrude; but as you approach Marlowe looks around at the sound of your footsteps, and when they see it's you they let out a breath and give you a slight smile. By the time you reach them, they're gazing back down into the green-black water; and you do the same as you stop by their side, following the sway of the weeds suspended just below the surface.

"There used to be a bunch of fish in there when I was a kid, but I guess they might have gotten too difficult for Eliot to take care of," Marlowe says softly, nodding down at the pond. "Or—maybe after those ones died he just never replaced them. I haven't been out here in a couple years, so I don't know