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[center]┏━✦❘༻✧ ✦ ✧༺❘✦━━┓[/center]

The inn’s common room glowed dim and golden, firelight crackling low in the hearth as the storm hurled itself against the shutters. The windows rattled with every gust, but the warmth within held. The air was thick with the smells of roasted meat, damp wool, and the sharp tang of pine resin burning on the logs.

Conversation ebbed and flowed in pockets. Locals kept their voices hushed, shoulders hunched as if to make themselves smaller. A few wore small charms pinned to their collars or dangling from cords at their throats or wrists—five pointed stars, upside down, each wrapped in thorns. 

Behind the bar, the innkeeper polished a tankard that was already clean, his eyes flicking often to the door as though expecting something grim to come through it. The storm had driven everyone who belonged here inside hours ago; only strangers arrived this late.

The door banged open with a clap of wind and rain.

A girl stood in the threshold, framed in lightning flash—pale-skinned with a warm brown spot like a splash of paint across one eye. Floppy brown ears twitched through her damp hair, and a bushy tail flicked behind her as she stepped in, shutting the door on the gale. Water beaded on the rim of her round shield and the edge of her sword’s scabbard, her gear clearly new but well-kept.

Bright-eyed, she drew herself up straight and beamed.

[color=#b32d00]“Good evening! I’m Juniper Larkspur, registered with the Adventurers Guild here in Ryke,”[/color] she announced, voice ringing clear above the low murmur. [color=#b32d00]“I’m here to help find the missing people!”[/color]

Silence answered her.

A dozen heads turned her way, but none spoke. The locals’ eyes slid from her earnest grin to one another, then down to their cups. The fire popped loudly. Somewhere, someone coughed. The innkeeper only stared for a long, slow moment, then set down then set down the tankard and said flatly,

 [color=#ffcc00]"Food or a room, girl?’”[/color]

The bright-eyed adventurer blinked, her smile faltering only for a heartbeat. 
[color=#b32d00]“Oh—both, please. If that’s alright.”[/color]

The innkeeper gave a grunt and reached for a bowl.  [color=#ffcc00]“Coin first.”[/color]

She fumbled for her purse, dripping rain onto the boards. A few of the locals turned back to their drinks, though not before giving her sidelong looks—wariness, and perhaps something colder. The silver star charms at their throats caught the firelight as they moved, threads black as soot.

The bartender set the steaming bowl and a half-loaf down with a dull thump. “Sit. Eat. Talking comes after.” His eyes flicked toward the others at the bar—Netzir swirling his water, Miiya with her wings drying by the fire, Shiki hunched and quiet.

[color=#ffcc00]“Looks like you’ve got company enough if you’re looking to chat,”[/color] he added dryly, sliding her the bowl.

She did as she was told, taking a seat and sniffing the food, seeming pleased by the scent. Her ears and tail twitched with small bursts of motion as she picked up the spoon. After a moment, she glanced around at the others who had gathered near the bar.
[color=#b32d00]“So ah… is anyone else here for the Adventurers’ Guild?”[/color] she asked timidly. Her green eyes sparkled with the wide innocence of someone on their very first contract.

A moment later, the front door swung open again, letting in a gust of rain and thunder.

The bard from outside swept in, his colorfully patched cloak swirling around him as he made his entrance. Water dripped from the hem, leaving bright speckles on the boards. He looked around the inn, the corners of his gray-blue eyes crinkling with easy mirth, before striding to the bar.

[color=#66ff66]“Another lovely evening, Ben.”[/color] His voice was warm, jovial, and carried even without much volume. It had a timbre to it that drew ears without trying, and more than a few heads turned despite themselves.

The bartender only let out a long sigh and shrugged. [color=#ffcc00]“If you say so, Reed.”[/color]

[color=#66ff66]“Storm’s only water,”[/color] Reed said lightly, unfastening the top clasp of his cloak. [color=#66ff66]“Can’t let it sour the spirit.”[/color]

He turned to look at the gathered and lifted his voice. [color=#66ff66]"Say! Who wants to hear a song?"[/color]