Four sets of eyes snapped open, all of them fixating on the sound that came from the ageing wooden entrance to the room that disappeared.
Feryn, now looking over at the door with a shocked look present on his face, as three others copied his demeanour, all of them staring in silence as their hearts pounded in their chests at the sudden sound.
Feryn: (Looking at Amanda.) Who in the hell was that? 'Worried.' It can't be Ayrell, can it? 'Hushed voice.' Shit, if it is...
Wide violet eyes that were fixated on the door turned away, now searching for Amanda. Yervel, quickly glancing around, could see that Amanda was no longer sitting by the window; for now she was up and away.
Amanda now slowly making her way behind Feryn with a single finger to her bottom lip, shushing all that looked upon her as she walked past
Rache, who was no longer standing in the shadows behind Feryn, was now making her way to the three beds pushed together, slinking behind Amanda as they crossed paths, skirting around the back of her, aiming for fixed Yervel's position.
A soft plop eventually landed on the bed next to the magician, and the shushing came from the middle of the room.
*SHHHHHH*
Yervel and Rache sat together on the single beds crammed together, whispering between themselves, eying the door out of curiosity, not seeing Feryn lower the chair down.
Feryn, now fully grounded, no longer leaning back, took his eyes off of the door, barely hearing the conversation in front of him coming from the beds as little whispers creeped into Yervel's small, slightly pointed ears; it was coming from Rache.
Rache: 'Bewildered' It couldn't be Ayrell, could it?... I could have sworn that Amanda sent him off to the alchemist to find some more of those anti-corrosion potions. (Looking towards Yervel.) Come to think of it, the only alchemist currently available this late at night is the one at the far end of the village near the eastern gate. 'Thinking.' I always forget his name. You know him—the alcoholic alchemist.
A scrunched-up face shot up at Rache upon hearing the alchemists mention and their supposed relationship.
Yervel: 'Flustered' I don't know why you are asking me. I can't see through doors... yet. 'Pausing.' And I don't associate with that loser of an alcholmest! To think of it, I completely forgot about him for a moment. I thought he was at the guild updating Monica on the lizard situation.
Yervel could feel eyes on her; it was coming from Amanda; the call for quiet was completely ignored by those on the bed.
Yervel: (Looking at Amanda's scolding face.) I'm not answering it! If it is Ayrell, you can smooth it all over; he likes you the most. 'Childish.'
Rache turned away at Yervel's words, quietly looking to her left.
Feryn, still looking at the two huddled together on the bed, saw the broken look in Rache's eyes and quietly looked away himself, hoping he wasn't seen noticing the movements of the scout, trying not to show that she saw it, now watching Amanda walk past it all.
Amanda: Fine... 'Calm.' (Slowly walking towards the door.)
Whispers abruptly ceased between the two young women sitting on the bed, and the creaking of floorboards and laughter from below filled the room.
The closer Amanda moved to the door, the more a thought raced through her mind, the weight of the black leather thigh-high boots growing heavier as they crinkled and shifted. Before she knew it, she found herself standing on top of the door, instinctively reaching for the handle.
In that moment, she almost felt like she would come crashing through the floor into the bar below; a small part of her wanted it to happen, not wanting to face the unknown behind the door. Not wanting to face Ayrell...
Amanda: (In her head.) Why must I open the door, that lazy little shit? (Slightly hesitating.) He shouldn't be back by now. Should he? 'Groaning.' He was supposed to go to the guild then to the far end of the village to get some more potions. It can't be him, can it?
So many things ran through Amanda's worried mind as she reached for the door handle. The softness of lightly pale white skin twisted against aged iron melded into one, the cold metal sapping her hand of warmth.
*CREAKING OF DOOR HINGES.*
Amanda: (Looking around the door's widening gap.) Hello? 'Questioning' Is it you, Ayrell?
The creaking of the door's hinges amplified the moaning of the latch.
Amanda's heart began to thump uncontrollably at the thought of Ayrell being on the other side of the door and what she would say to him or if he had heard anything at all, or worse, it being an unwanted guest with ill intentions who thought he could get an easy lay with a lonely maiden or man.
Amanda: (In her head.) Poor Feryn...
Light from the ornate red-stained glass lanterns streaked in as a blood orange light emanated, spreading into the dimly lit room and along Amanda's soft face as the crack of the door grew wider, almost giving the room an eerie atmosphere on top of the suspense of not knowing who it might be.
As the door opened all the way, they could all see into the landing area; no one was by the door but Amanda's tall, slim form and shadow on the floor.
The young man in the middle of the room spoke out, seeing no one there.
Feryn: 'Interested' Well, who goes there? Or, is it a ghost? (Resembling a floating spirit with his wiggling hands.)
Amanda ignored Feryn's and his wriggling fingers she saw not long ago, continuing to look around the landing area, making sure no one was there. She looked down to the stairs to her left, only hearing the people in the bar, turning back onto the rooms to her right side, seeing nothing but closed doors, Magio's and the small closet that housed the cleaning supplies that rarely got used.
A weight fell from Amanda's shoulder and her heart began to beat at a normal pace, the tension evaporating away.
Amanda: 'Baffled' (Talking to herself.) Funny. It's probably one of the drunks down below. (As she turned around, the tip of her foot accidentally clipped something.)
*SHUFFLING OF BOWLS AND SPOONS.*
Amanda: What's this? (Looking down, then into the room behind her, speaking to the others.) It's just some food. (Kneeling down to pick it up.) It must be from the Magio.
The shiny red varnish on the wide wooden tray was neither greying nor ageing, like the inn itself, free from the infection of time., only shimmering in the lantern light from the walls, looking almost new.
Sitting atop the tray, five piping hot medium-sized bowls steamed upwards, with five spoons huddled together to the side, along with a small glass jar of yellow cream. Amanda smiled at the comforting sight and smell of food and the coming relief of pain in her arm.
The steamy warmth rose, and then a faint aroma drifted up and into Amanda's face. It was the all-too-familiar smell of the Grover meat-filled stew they all came to adore and love, one of the inn's precious delicacies.
The comforting aroma entered the room, greeting the others with its familiar scent of meat and herbs, lathered in a wonderful sauce. Yervel's and Feryn's noses running into overtime at the luxury close by of food.
Ascending the stairs, the undiluted commotion of the bar's inhabitants intensified; the loud shouts of an intoxicated commotion played out, only to be snuffed out by the quick closing of a door behind Amanda, not wanting to soil the gift in her hands at the coming brawl.
*SOFT CLUNK OF A DOOR CLOSING.*
Feryn spoke up when the aroma came his way in the enclosed space, inching ever closer as Amanda aimed for the table in the centre of the room.
Feryn: (Rubbing his hands.) Is that what I think it is? 'Elated'.' Landlady Magio can sure cook! If she wasn't as ancient as a dragon, I think I would have asked her to be my wife. (Slapping his lips while sniffing at the food.) It's sooooo good!
Feryn salivated at the coming of the bowls.
Feryn: Grover meat is just as fine as a woman, maybe even finer! 'Drooling.' You know, for a moment, I thought Ayrell would be on the other side of the door; just imagine if he were; it would be a right pickle, wouldn't it? 'Joking.'
Yervel snickered and whispered in Rache's ear a cheeky obscenity, and they both giggled between themselves before leaving the bed. Feryn, seeing their faces, crossed his arms, eager to understand the conversation, as a tray clanked onto the table and Amanda signalled for the others to join them, ending their private conversation.
*SOFT CLANK AND JIGGLING OF WOODEN SPOONS ON A TRAY.*
One by one they all gravitated towards the centre of the small room, and the three young women gradually encompassed Feryn. As Rache moved behind the shieldsman, her palm rose again, and her index finger recoiled, no longer in a friendly manner, as it clipped the exposed skin above the metal neckpiece.
Rache: (Flicking the back of Feryn's neck.) Don't disrespect the landlady Magio like that; thirty-six isn't that old! She looks great for her age.
Rache pulled out a small chair hidden under the table and sat down next to Feryn.
Rache: It's a miracle that she lets us stay here; also... she's too much of a woman for you anyway. 'Pausing.' like you would know of women. (Nodding and winking at Yervel.)
Yervel winked back at Rache, as she took her place at the table on the opposite side to Feryn.
Rache: Be thankful! (Shuffling next to Feryn.) How Ayrell got that sweet deal is beyond me; for a moment there, I also thought he would be on the other side of the door. Good thing it was just a long gone Magio, she probably left it and went back to the bar. (Looking around.)
The blonde-haired adventurer's squinting blue eyes glared at Rache, then faded at the smell of food wafting up, his hand reaching for the back of his neck.
Feryn: HEY... 'Irked' That hurt! (Rubbing the back of his neck.) Yeah, she'd probably eat me alive. 'Laughing.'
Feryn smirked, thinking on something.
Feryn: Though Ayrell on the hand, she might just go easy on; I've seen how she looks at him. 'Shrugging.' That's probably how he got us this sweet room for cheap; I bet he crawls into her bed at ni...
Feryn stopped, feeling the weight of three women upon him and not in the way he would have wished for.
Feryn: What... 'Worried.'
The three female adventurers stared directly at the lone man, cutting off his words. The uneasiness returning. Feryn backpedalled in the hopes of not waking the beasts that surrounded him, but it was to late.
Feryn: (Putting his hands up.) Sorry, that was a poor joke... 'False calm.'
Spoons would soon disappear one at a time, followed by the warm bowls. All but one remained.