With a sigh, Riven dropped his backpack to the ground and landed on his ass next to Athela with a grunt. Shaking his head and scratching, he sniffed. The food just slled too enticing to leave alone, and even though he was still covered in blood, he really didn’t give a shit. He plucked a grape from a nearby plate and began to chew.
It was goddamn delicious.
With an eager smile, he scooped up the flat plate next to the glistening pool of water and began to devour the food like he’d never eaten before. He’d been stressed and overwheld up until this point, and he was surprised to find a single tear trickling down his face as happiness blood from a stupid smile while he chewed. “Jesus, this is good…”
That earned him a small laugh from Hakim as the other man sat next to him and picked up a plate of his own. “Good enough to cry over, eh?”
“Shut up.”
The two of them shared a grin and then burst into laughter, feeling relieved and relatively safe while knowing they had another three days of peace before more craziness unfolded. As they stuffed their faces, the family of three nearby eventually sat down to eat as well…though a little more hesitantly than Hakim had. They were still traumatized after what’d happened and even sat at a small but comfortable distance from the two n while they talked in hushed voices or occasionally shot Riven, Athela, and Hakim glances.
“Don’t worry about them,” Hakim said cheerfully in a hushed whisper of his own while he tore the loaf of bread on his plate in half and shoved so of it into his mouth. Licking his fingers, he burped and smiled politely Riven’s way. “They’re just shaken. I would be, too, if I was them. They’ll co around.”
Riven nodded, absent-mindedly chewing on a slice of smoked at, which he assud to be ham, and taking a mont to swallow. “Yeah. That was rough, and I don’t bla them for wanting to be sowhat alone. You doing okay, by the way?”
had rows of ats, bottles of spices, pots, pans, cutlery, roots, powders—the list went on. The clothes-making station had nurous textiles—though they were all rather plain, consisting of a couple archaic sewing machines, thread, needles, leather straps, so hamrs, of all things, and a variety of odds and ends Riven couldn’t recognize to save his life. The mapmaking station contained a miniature replica of the room, along with a hologram that flickered on and off in various patterns and a bunch of blank sheets with an inkwell and feather pen. The totem-making section displayed another small furnace with mounds of clay, a variety of sharp and dull tools, so odd tal pieces laid out as insignias, wooden boards with a nail and hamrs, so feathers, and paint. anwhile, the prophecy corner sported a couple cushions with floating wisps of light that danced among the air.
“Welp…” Riven muttered, getting to his feet and turning with a thumb hiked in the direction of the prophecy area. “I’m going to go check these things out. Maybe it’ll be therapeutic after all the bullshit. Catch you later.”
Hakim gave him a wave, then settled back down on the stone floor to lie facing up at the ceiling. “I’m going to take a nap. Don’t stab in my sleep.”
“I would never. I’d have the crazy spider do it.”
They exchanged grins, and Hakim closed his eyes while Riven took his backpack and marched past the small family of three. He paused, though, rembering that he had a blanket in the bag. Taking out the quilt and then removing his cloak, he handed both of them to the two nude won with a nod and a brief glance that did not linger. They seed startled at the act of generosity, but before they could say anything more, he’d already left them to start for the prophecy area.
Coming to a stop at the table in front of the cushions and floating orbs of light, Riven acknowledged that this was the most barren of the stations. By far. A single book was set on the table, with only a small crystal ball present otherwise.
He glanced up at one of the lights that floated over and reached out to touch it, but his hand passed right through it, giving him nothing but a warm sensation. The blood vessels and musculature of his hand did light up as it passed through, though, so that was kind of cool.
Picking up the book, which had the sigil of an outstretched hand and an eye painted along the hand in black ink, he opened up to reveal the first paragraph. It was all written in English in the sa black ink as the cover but had more of a curvy text style than normal letters.
[The Basics of Prophecy: Written by Oralmius phator, third sage of the White Tower]
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