[ Sometime after dusk, Marisa sits by the campfire, a couple of pots floating over the flames. For a while, she's silent and staring into the fire, watching as her potions bubble. ]
...hey. Wanna hear a spooky story?
[ Not actually guaranteed to be spooky. But it's that kind of summer night that fosters campfire stories, she feels. ]
Tuesday evening
...hey. Wanna hear a spooky story?
[ Not actually guaranteed to be spooky. But it's that kind of summer night that fosters campfire stories, she feels. ]