Feasting Hall | Shula Castle
Interacting with: N/A
Never did Jiro think he was going to come here again.
Shula's feasting hall was as large and grand as ever. Tall ceilings arched above his head and the whole room seemed like it was miles long. Several wooded tables, each about the length of an Onix, lined the room. Upon said tables were endless types of foods: roasted meats, fishes, vegetables, and even fruits, which were diced and glazed with sugars or placed upon the roasts. It seemed like a festival paraded down and up every table. But nothing really peaked his appetite. Jiro was used to the raw fish and rice dishes of Yine. Everything Sher served to their guests seemed too... heavy. Greasy, at that. Yet, the soldiers and knights and even the countrymen of Atlas devoured every bite as if it'd be the last meal they would ever have. He caught sight of multiple faces, flushed under the influence of liquor.
It wasn't just the people that were enjoying their time drinking and eating. Pokemon darted to and fro, scampering after scraps or hiding to ambush servants that brought out more food. What caught Jiro's attention the most, however, was what occurred above.
Countless winged Pokemon flitted above them. They lined the wooden beams, chittering and squawking as they fought over space and food alike. Jiro saw the white, steely hide of Kaneki swoop up from a table, a dried morsel in his sharp beak. A pair of Pidgey followed after him, screeching in protest as he weaved his way through the airborne crowd of Pokemon. Eventually, he settled on a beam, quickly scarfing down the food as the Pidgey bickered around him. The three engaged in a heated debate before a large Fearow, clad in light armor, flew down to perch on the beam next to them and made them scatter in surprise.
Jiro shook his head, sighing as he made his way down the hall. Shuhei prowled beside him, a silver shadow at his side. The northern Ninetales held grace in his step, much like he did. But the Pokemon did not mind the crowd. Jiro did. That's why he bore his light armor, shielding his face from the curious glances of the rulers that sat at the front of the hall and ate among themselves. Of course-- why would they dare mingle with the lesser peoples? His eyes narrowed at the sight of Emperor Yataro, an aging man with a gaunt face and gray in his long, dark hair. He was as he always remembered; cold, calculating, and uncaring.
His already soured appetite soured even more. Shuhei tipped his narrow muzzle up to look at him, and Jiro stroked his frosty mane. "Come, Shuhei. Let us try to eat." he mumbled, deciding that he should at least submit himself to the celebrations at least for a little while. He settled down, not caring who or what kind of person he sat next to. There was a large, stuffed Piloswine in front of him. Its small jaws were open, an apple placed between its teeth. Jiro pulled a face. Ugh. How could people eat this? Sure, he had settled for dried meats when he traveled, but the sight of preparing a corpse in such a way disgusted him.
The people across from him stared for a second. He realized that he was sitting with Neridans, which were the allies of his home country. Yet, the looks they gave him were far from friendly. Their blue eyes bore holes into him, and Jiro ducked his head as he reached for a plate and served himself from a plate that bore a smaller, lesser creature-- probably a roasted bird. Quietly, he tucked into his food, trying to seem like he was enjoying its taste. Shuhei gnawed on a bone he had found on the ground, quietly sucking on the marrow that was exposed from the shaft.