The first thing Kit noticed was the smell. It was thick and pungent. Something sweet interlaced with something rotten layered with what could only be explained as a half-assed attempt at clearing the smell by burning sage. Though the compound in of itself was a foul smelling pit carved in rock, Kit couldn't tell whether this hut smelled better or worse.
The second thing Kit noticed was the two informants. That is, if you could call them that. At the door was a young man with long, dark dreads, a plant in his eyes. His eyes were too wide, his smile too big. For a second, Kit wanted to ask if he was alright. Then he noticed the plant. The plant was moving. Not the gentle sway of leaves in the breeze, or the shaking stem as it was being jostled around. Unless the disembodied movement of its vines turning to words was the new norm, this thing wasn't a regular plant.
Kit furrowed his brow, unsure of what to make of the pot smoking...pot. Was this even the right place? He sniffed deeply, grimacing as, deep beneath the layer of the other smell, was a familiar scent. One he'd gotten far too accustomed to in the hellhole camps. The aroma of burning flesh.
"Hi...?" he greeted uneasily.
