The table creaks as the weight of her boots settles against the aging wood—a soft complaint she’s heard so often it’s become routine. The wash of conversation from the other room is soothing, like a languid tide lapping at the golden sands of home. Not that she’s set foot on that sand in years. The thought sends a pang through her chest. How long since she’d spoken to her parents face to face? Were they still in Antiva city?
The door swings open, acting as a flood gate for the hubbub beyond—less waves now, and more distinguishable chatter. The broad dwarf in the doorway frowns at her, thick black brows knitting together in laughably apparent irritation—a sentiment no doubt born of her own apparent tardiness, and a deeply seated desire to leave.
[Agitated] Did you get it?
The anxious thumb circling the embossed hilt of his blade doesn’t escape her notice, although the observation is an endearing one. Settling herself back against the plush cushions that lined the booth she flashed him a smile her father had always called ‘no good’.
[Relaxed, toying] Hardly- I’ve been far too busy taking a breather. You know me, Gris, wouldn’t know hard work if it bit me in the ass.
[Long suffering] Of course not.
Closing the door behind him with a sense of relief, Gris eyed the padded booth with suspicion before opting to drag over a hard-backed chair. Although some would have deemed the phenomenon impossible, his frown deepened.
[Warning tones] Kitti, if we don’t execute this correctly then we’re at serious risk of losing everything we-
[finishing his sentence] Everything we worked for. I know. Calista’s probably already on her way back with a map- and friend? You worry too much.
Sitting upright she leaned forward, elbows resting on the ring marked table top as she pressed her fist into the palm of her other hand. A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.
[Amused hum] You know what my father used to say to me before a risky job? [pause] Heavy stones fear no weather.