As I walked into the dining hall, my eyes widened at the sight before me. The room was a stunning display of opulence, fit for royalty. Glistening chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting a warm, golden glow across the space. Elaborate tapestries adorned the walls, depicting scenes of grand feasts and epic battles.
My stomach grumbled in response to the tantalizing aroma that filled the air. Tables stretched out before me, laden with an incredible assortment of foods. There were platters of succulent roasted meats, bowls of vibrant salads, and trays of delicate pastries that seemed too beautiful to eat. I was struck with awe at the sheer abundance and variety of dishes that awaited me.
I stood there, utterly astonished, taking in the grandeur of the scene. Never before had I witnessed such a lavish spread. It was as if I had stepped into a world of fantasy, where every culinary desire had been brought to life. The colors, the textures, the intricate details ,they all combined to create a mesmerizing tableau that captured my senses.
Lost in my reverie, I barely registered the presence behind me until a voice punctured through my thoughts. "What are you waiting for, Dante? Take your seat," the voice urged, its tone blending amusement and impatience. I turned instinctively toward the sound and found Jade standing there, a knowing grin playing on her lips.
"Aren't you hungry? You better hurry up before Vergil and Lupin return, or you won't find anything left to eat," Jade's expression shifted, her face conveying a mixture of seriousness and concern.
I understood that there was more to this than met the eye. I turned my attention to Mavka and posed the question, "Who are Vergil and Lupin?" My expression reflected both curiosity and a desire to understand.
Mavka responded with a chuckle, her eyes dancing with amusement. "They're out on a mission. Don't worry, they'll be back soon."
While her words were reassuring, a nagging doubt lingered. How could Mavka, Hermione, and Jade have found the time to prepare dinner while they were accompanying me on the way here? I glanced at Mavka once more and inquired, "Did you prepare this food?"
Mavka's smile broadened as she replied, "Nope, it was Shinobu. She made it while waiting for our return."
A shiver coursed through me at the mention of Shinobu's name. I blurted out without thinking, a note of fear coloring my voice, "Did she poison the food?"
Mavka's laughter rang out in response, soothing my unease. "Shinobu wouldn't harm you or poison you. If she wanted to eliminate you, she wouldn't have waited."
Her words brought a sense of relief, and I exhaled slowly. As Mavka led the way to the dining hall, she motioned for me to follow. I walked beside her and settled into the chair she pointed out. Jade and Hermione did the same, taking their places in the adjacent empty seats at the table.
I watched as Mavka effortlessly wielded a fork and knife, expertly slicing a succulent piece of meat on the table into smaller, more manageable portions. The gentle clinking of utensils against the plate accompanied her graceful movements. Her culinary finesse was evident as she began arranging the pieces onto her plate, a symphony of flavors and textures taking shape before my eyes.
Turning my attention towards her, our gazes interlocked, and she rewarded me with a warm smile. A sense of comfort emanated from that simple exchange, as if her gesture carried an unspoken promise of camaraderie and reassurance. In a heartbeat, she picked up some of the cut meat with her fork and deposited it onto my plate, the act both tender and friendly.
However, my unease still lingered like a shadow in the back of my mind. The question of whether Shinobu had tampered with the food gnawed at me, casting a doubt over the feast that lay before us. This doubt manifested as a hesitant reluctance to partake in the spread. The worry had etched itself onto my expression, visible even as I glanced at the sumptuous offerings on the table.
Mavka's perceptive gaze caught onto my inner turmoil. She studied me for a moment, her eyes softening with understanding. With a reassuring smile, she leaned towards me, her voice a gentle murmur amidst the clatter of utensils. "Don't worry, Dante," she said, her tone a soothing balm, "you're safe here."
To demonstrate her confidence, she effortlessly speared a piece of the prepared meat and brought it to her lips, savoring the flavors with an appreciative expression. The simple act was a silent testament, an exhibition of trust in the culinary delights that surrounded us.
With a purposeful pause, she directed her gaze back at me, her eyes holding mine. "See? There's nothing for you to worry about." Her words carried a weight of assurance, as though she were subtly dismantling the doubts that had taken root within me.
The moment was pivotal, a crossroads where my apprehensions could either linger or dissipate. Mavka's encouragement and her demonstration of unwavering faith in the food served as an anchor, grounding me in the reality of the present. The gentle pull of camaraderie and the allure of the feast began to outweigh the fear that had gripped me.
Taking a steadying breath, I reached for my fork, my fingers wrapping around the handle with a mixture of determination and gratitude. I selected a piece of meat, mirroring Mavka's earlier action. As the flavors danced across my taste buds, a sense of relief unfurled within me, like a flower opening to the warmth of the sun.
Mavka's gaze held mine once more, her eyes sparkling with satisfaction. "That's the spirit," she chimed, her words infused with a hint of playfulness. "Now, let's enjoy this meal together. You wouldn't want to make me sad, would you?"
I responded to Mavka by gently shaking my head from side to side, a silent indication that I don't want to make her sad. Observing my reply, a soft smile graced Mavka's lips. In response, she kindly remarked that if I wished to develop into a sturdy and robust individual, I should indulge in the meal before me. Her words carried a touch of playfulness, hinting at the importance of nourishment in personal growth.