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--- ljwrites:ttrpg:solo:village_witch:witch1 [2024/09/08 23:41] – Headline hierarchy ljwrites
+++ ljwrites:ttrpg:solo:village_witch:witch1 [2024/09/14 23:27] (current) – Scene 1 of Harvest ljwrites
@@ Line 145: / Line 145: @@
 The waterberry sprig I was gifted from the swamps has its place next to the other fetishes and offerings on my altar of carven wood.
 Some of the glances on me lingered beyond just curiosity; perhaps I will hear more about my mother here.
+#### Scene: The Festival of Ships
+  * Ten of cups: It's a holiday. What sort?
+The ships come in, sails swollen and oars creaking as they glide into the sheltered bay, the songs of the sailors and the songs from the shore melting into one as the distance closes and the ships bump to a stop.
+The goods are a procession from the docks to the market borne on baskets and carts and the backs of draft animals through the streets with dancing and singing on either side, grains and cattle and bolts of cloth and spices and more from far away, the air charged with the joy and anticipation of plenty, of good times to come.
+I have much to trade at the market, my good luck charms and poultices particularly popular with seafaring men. I end up with cloth in lovely blue and yellow for a new dress, exchanged seeds, savory leaves to cook with, and more.
+The dancing goes on late into the night and a woman who came in with the ships meets my eye.
+Her smooth head has a proud perch on top of a long neck, and her smile is knowing.
+We float closer to each other in the dances until we dance face to face, drinking each other in, the smell of faraway waters strong on her.
+Leaving the dance hand-in-hand feels natural, as does kissing behind the bushes on the way to my home.
+There is a little chill in the air but I do not light the fire, we do not need it, oh, when we burn so.
+Before dawn she leaves with a lingering kiss, leaving a scent and a few petals from her garland on the pillow.
+I stay longer in bed than is my wont, drifting between sleeping and waking, lost in a sweet little dream and not wanting to find myself, not yet.