Future of Calamity

Chapter 29 - Underworld

"What'll it be?"

"Some food for the boy and the one in white."

As the daemon in disguise blankly placed any desired orders, the group waited nearby; few resting upon seats and around the table at Velvet's heel. Visibly relaxing, many almost melted into the seats after their sore bodies could finally sit and marinate in the soothing atmosphere.

"Mabo Curry is our specialty, it takes a week to stew properly," an elderly woman in black interjected from the tavern keeper's side, one of which that adorned a crimson cloth about his neck.

"Mabo Curry..." Laphicet mumbled in hungry desire at the thought, with the lazing half-malakhim leaning nearby hummed in similar interest. However, all it did was hide his own famished tapping and unfocused mind.

Raising a brow at the kindly yet mysterious old lady interrupting from the side, the ravenette merely shook her head, "Some of that, then."

Whistle

Without looking, but nonetheless allowing a sigh to pass, Velvet raised her right hand for the soft impact of a minor pack of gleaming coins to fall onto it. One thousand gald each. She wordlessly flicked her hand, which Sarid still accepted as begrudged thanks, and slid the bag of intrinsic coins over the desk, before bending over the bar slightly and leaning close. "Say, do you know a man named Baskerville?" she started with a thoughtless glower of seriousness. "I heard we might find him here."

Shifting uncomfortably, but still letting a flash of animosity pass, the tavern keeper roughly wiped down a shining cup resting in hand with a thin line across his lips. "That old man? A scoundrel and criminal who went against the rules of the Abbey. They executed him long ago."

"...Oh," the daemon remarked grimly.

Soon enough, after the coins had vanished from the bar, steaming dishes in hand wafted out in the hands of the peculiar elder; and so the group slipped into the stools lining its side, with the young malak and half-breed graciously accepting the perfect bowls with words of thanks, the Samurai passing a respectful bow - while the stoic Pirate and bitter daemoness each delivered nods of approval. Rokurou had passed on his own additional payment, and was passively enjoying the intense drink while his two ravenous allies dug into their meals.

Sarid, his first proper and amazing meal in perhaps a decade, ate steady and methodical, deeply enjoying every stark taste emanating from the dish. The smoky and hot eastern spice, the juicy and flavourful pork, the soft and squishy tofu absorbing each distinct and powerful flavour. It was exactly what he needed, and Sarid ate with a smile.

Laphicet, however, the spoon as his shovel, hungrily devoured each and every molecule remaining inside the dish, the sheer depth of flavour an impact on his tastebuds; and the boy couldn't get enough. "Velvet, this mabo curry is amazing!" he cheerfully commended, lime orbs twinkling with satisfied joy. Feeling a tap of an elbow shift her arm, her eyes rose to the slightly marred but pleasant expression of the other starved member.

"Go on, give it a go," the man ignorantly recommended, too caught up in his own meal to recall one thing. Velvet frowned, and let the spoonful travel past her lips, and the woman's reddened tongue attempted to savour any sense of flavour. Nothing. As empty and tasteless as river water. She sighed sorrowful and irritably, sinking the cutlery into the pooling curry, disheartened. Sarid grimaced, and the daemon noticed his self-chidden eyes flick away to his own dish.

"You get along so well, is he your brother?" A voice came from behind the bar before them, and looking up, Velvet noticed the peaceful face of the elderly woman on black eyeing the cold ravenette and the still gleeful young boy as a duo. A sense of nostalgia was cemented in silver irises.