#witches malediction

Upon the swinging open, comes a soft breathe of autumn wind. A scent of incoming storms come tonight, predicted correctly thankfully by the leech jar. Not huge on being left in the unknown for something that could damage the roof, or prevent proper ingredient development later on. Though the unknown of who was standing on the steps, was a rather surprising situation. Tuffs of bronzed mahogany hair standing off the head of a clearly worn frame, over a face most dreary.

“Who are you to darken my entryway? Especially at a high for this seasons work for one such as myself,” the words slip past my lips much colder to the stranger than I first intended, “Witches don’t take beggars in so easily you should know.”

Glossy eyes blinking up in my direction as a tongue passes over lightly chapped lips. Thirsty perhaps, or needing a moment to work up a voice to speak back. A beggar might have been a wrong guess though from my first assumptions, the clothes hanging on their body aren’t worse for wear. Darning weave has been used on his; it was done to build the textiles' strength. Whoever cares for this one, does it with good knowledge of repair. Much like the work my own mother's hands once did.

Chest heaving before my very eyes, not from movement or weather, mouth moving without a song of sound coming out. This is becoming a tiresome interaction. Flicking my fingernails into my home I beckon them follow me within. If they need me so badly for something, the least they can do is continue to let me work on what I was before. Steps sounding behind me after the smaller body lowers the hook into the loop that keeps the door closed to light winds and animals. Ignoring the idea of placing the crossbar down for a more secure latch, this human seems frightened enough. If I roll my dice properly, I can get an extra set of hands for collection in exchange for what they will ask me soon enough.

Cooing towards another hall branching from the workroom my cadence warms back up, “Yieemi, we have someone here, bring me some of the rosehip tea we had brewing. Honey will also be required.”

“I’m in need of your magics, even if I must beg it from your coven,” vocalization behind me finally from the aforementioned company throatily reaches out.

“No coven to be spoken of, no need for one. Didn’t know humans still thought of us in groups like wolves or geese,” quipping back.

Turning back around as a construct wobbles by, a plate held within it’s rounded fists balances two porcelain cups. Swooping the plate from it’s chunky fingers to place on the table before the construct trips a bit over roots trimmed from the wall plants still not composted yet. Perching upon the velveted cushion as I place the cups down before us both, pointing towards the opposite seat waiting.

Footnote- Pronunciation