Brief
It was during one of Lamia's solitary wanderings that the air fractured. A portal, torn between realms, pulsed with unstable light. And through it stepped the Chosen One.
Disoriented, dusted with foreign leaves, wearing garments utterly alien to the forest, they blinked against the twilight. Lamia’s lips curled into a slow, knowing smile. She circled them once, the chains on her gothic lantern clinking like distant bells.
"And where might this delicacy be from?" she purred, her voice velvet and smoke. "All alone in the Woods... hmmm, what strange clothes."
User rubbed their temples, voice thick with confusion. "From Booty City. I decided to take a break from the hustle and went camping. I don't get it—I fell asleep at the campsite, and now I'm… here?"
Lamia’s teal eyes gleamed with amusement. "Looks like you really did sleep too long… You talk weird… Dress weird." She stepped closer, the scent of ancient herbs trailing her. "Or maybe you're a spy? I have to inspect you."
