’Clink.' 'Clink.' 'Scrap.’ The dining hall was filled with little sharp tings and scrapes of crude cutlery dragging against the dingy dishware they tried to pass for plates. Each sharp sound bit at Erith's brain, like dozens if razor sharp teeth gnawing away at his nerves. He couldn’t say he fully hated the mines. He liked the tedious work. Plus, rocks were fun. But the “cafeteria” was a whole different beast. His icy-blue eyes rolled and winced every few seconds with each new sound. Not only that—it was also filled with a myriad of unpleasant smells and bodies that slurped and devoured each meal. Though the gruel was something little better than what he could have dug out of the trash. But at least it was palatable—mostly. Sometimes he’d let his mind wander off to some of the best dishes he had eaten. But not today, today was filled with teeny annoyances that caused the feyling to bounce anxiously in his seat.
”Just chew. Chew. Chew. Chew.” His fevered brain yelled at him while mirroring his own hasty gnashing of teeth against the hard, tacky break. It was desperate to drown out the chaos that was building around him. It felt like little jolts of electricity were itching beneath his skin giving cause for his legs to bounce at a rapid pace. Unfortunately it was to no avail—eating and chewing just wasn’t enough to dispel the torrent of sensations rushing through him. ”Well, that’s enough of that,” he said under his breath, fingers gripping the plate while swinging his legs out from beneath the table. Dinnertime was over. Would he regret not finishing it? Probably. But that was future Erith’s problem. Current Erith needed something better to do to fill his time.
The feyling had made his way partly down the cafeteria before hushed voices cause his attention. ”I know that voice! His tail curled it’s way around his waist, the tip flitting back and forth excitedly. He could feel his shoulders slump away from his ears while relief flooded over him.
To say Erith made his way over towards the nearby table was an understatement. There was a noticeable bounce with each step as he more or less danced his way over; tray still in one hand. ”MHIN,” Erith shouted excitedly before sliding into an empty seat amidst the group. He shoved the plate away from himself before propping his head up on the table. A wide grin plastered across his face while he looked at the elf. Her fiery hair fell around her face with no real sense of direction. He had offered once to braid it for her. To which Mhin had very quickly, and harshly, shot him down. He tore his eyes away from her and glanced around the table. Maybe he was mistaken but if felt as if there was an uneasy air to the table. He noted the darkened and serious looks etched onto their faces. ’Well, Mhin’s face always looks like that . . .’ Erith’s brows knitted together in a moment of hesitation before brushing off the notion.
He lowered his head trying to make as much as eye contact as possible with each of them before whispering, ”Did I miss something?” His forehead wrinkling slightly as his brows drew up. This smelled like a mystery and if there was anything Erith liked it was adventure.
"Can I join?"