Silence in Sagas

9

"This"--Ismina flung her arms out in front of her--"is the plaza." Oliwa looked up at a wooden house--brown paint chipping, dirty windows with frames that might have been red once. The whole thing seemed to lean dangerously towards the right. It was huge though, and somehow, a little cozy looking. So unlike the stone-cold castle walls she had grown up in.

Denevon walked up onto a porch that creaked below his feet. Arlos followed, Ismina in tow until Oliwa was left standing--she quickly found her feet. 

The door swung open with a loud creak.
Once inside the house, Oliwa looked around at the hall she was in. Right in front of her was a passage, and as she looked to her left and right, she saw staircases—to the right a rotten death-trap, but on the opposite side, a collapsed wooden structure with a ladder of bright wood that stood in contrast to the murky woodwork behind it.

"I'm starving," Arlos held a hand on his stomach. Oliwa's stomach let out a loud growl. She had been keeping shut about it--trying not to think of it, but she was famished.

"I contacted the butcher today," Ismina said and sighed. Denevon turned to her and furrowed his brows. "Um, there has been an attack on his herd of krins, some wild animal I haven't heard of before--"

Oliwa startled when Denevon shouted a particularly vulgar word that Oliwa hadn't heard uttered by others than Willa that one time she spilled boiling water on her feet.

"What?" Ismina put away what she was holding in her hand--some kind of oval stone... She took a step towards Denevon, who looked ready to punch through a wall. (It wouldn't be too difficult in this house.)

"They know--SATAN, THEY KNOW!"

"C-calm down! Who knows what?"

"US! THEY, AH--!" There was a slapping sound, Denevon took a deep, shaky breath the he held on to as he continued. "They know. The King--Castle Centis. They all know about it; about us. The Endling's Order."

"Oh," said Ismina.

"Um," Arlos began. "Maybe... maybe we should sit down. Make som food of what we already have, because... eh, I know I need food before I can think."

Ismina didn't leave time for discussion. She stalked forwards, into the kitchen. Oliwa remained standing with Denevon and Arlos... She was too hungry to just stand there, so she went after Ismina, not caring if the others followed or not.

The halls were brown, and the occasional small bureau or half empty bookshelf stood against one of the walls, dusting down the air. Sunlight seeped through ajar doors she passed. Miniature specks of dust hovered in the air, tickling Oliwa's nose.

The house was quiet except for Arlos and Denevon's low mumbling from the entrance hall, and Oliwa followed a loud clanking and clacking of pots and cutlery against a sink...
She rounded a corner, and a kitchen opened up in front of her.

"I—" Ismina yanked a newly washed pot from a cupboard above the sink... Oliwa looked into it and saw that the shelves were made of dish draining holders...

Ismina caught her stare and followed it to the cupboard. She smiled. "Pretty nifty, eh?"

Oliwa nodded. "It dries the dishes?"

Stupid question. Ismina answered with a "mhm" nonetheless.

"Can I help with anything?" Oliwa asked. Ismina sighed and strode over to another cupboard. It was filled with scrappy paper bags of what Oliwa made out to be flour and sugar and... something that bore resemblance to cinnamon, but smelled more like it could kill you if you smelled it too long.