Before anyone knows it, afternoon fades to night as candlelit lamps are left to illuminate the rooms.

“You probably have an inn you’re paying for,” Cana’s newfound mother says.

“Fair,” Ross comments. “Coul–”

Jyrasck cuts off the other male, “oh it’s fine. We can stay here tonight if you’d like.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to get your money’s worth at the inn?”

“No, no, it’s perfectly fine.”

“Are you sure? I mean–”

“We are okay with staying here if you don’t mind us doing so.”

Ms. Soleil (or Amara according to Ross), chews her lip for a moment before continuing. “I only have futons and sleeping bags if that’s okay.”

Sam lights up, “I can help them get situated, Ms. Soleil.” He jumps up and we follow him to a large room with a big bed. He tells Cana and myself to not sleep in the big bed, only to put a futon on top of it or sleep on the ground.

Eventually, everyone (Iris and Antadon) else filed in. Except for Knives, Cana asks about him.

“Oh, he just goes around town to get his thoughts sorted out before he falls asleep,” Antadon quickly replies and we all fall into a silent slumber.

Crnch, crnch, crnch, I slump onto a wall with a lit window beside me. My panting quickly turns into a huffing grin as I look at the papers in my hands. I did it, the more details I have on these demented “scientists”, the more I can prove we’re not to be locked up and stared at from behind a screen. I sit underneath the lit window, flipping through the files I snagged minutes before. I’m taking in the image of a sandy-blonde haired male when a noise jolts me out of my senses.

“I know you have school work but it’s still late, Lorelai,” a voice like Ms. Soleil’s sounds as I realize the window was cracked open.

“But Mom, if I don’t do it now, I won’t get i–”

“Lorelai—” the sound of the woman’s voice becomes incomprehensible as I hear the window close swiftly.

I slowly come to terms with my groggy, barely awake state as I hear a slow shutting sound and turning of a door. Knives is back from his “rounds”, I piece together.. I feel the dream in the back of my mind as I come to the conclusion that Knives was the host of the vision. I go through the idea of whether or not to tell anyone and who else knows as I fall into a dreamless sleep.

I wake up with a foot stabbing into my stomach, in response I jab my leg back and roll over with a huff. A grumble was heard behind me before the door swung open, causing everyone to jolt up quickly and face the door.

“Woah, I just wanted to say Ms. Soleil’s making bacon n’ eggs,” Jyrasck holds up his hands like Carson did back at Login. The back and sides of his head were ruffled up from sleeping on the couch.

“Oh, sorry, it’s a habit,” Iris replies, curling her legs underneath her and rubbing her eyes before getting up. Everyone else eventually did the same, Knives being last after I nudge Cana awake with a foot.

Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

We all get to the living room to find Ross and Cana’s mom talking about the night before.

“How come they don’t have more protection over their records? It’s the government for the Council’s* sake,” Ms. Soleil gossips as she places slices of bacon on plates.

“We don’t have all the methods we used to, twenty-four seven surveillance cameras, digital storage, I could go on and on.” Ross replies with a fatherly sigh as he sips on a glass of orange juice.

“Also true. I wonder what it was like back then, with electricity and what-not. Some scientists say that we could get it back in a few years’ time,” she points out as she stirs some eggs.

“They say that all the time, like the Doomsday Clock Incident**,” Ross starts rattling off times when scientists did certain things. I don't understand most of it so I weave through the chatting duo and snatch up a plate of fresh bacon and eggs.

“What’re they talking about? Security?” I ask Jyrasck, who’s cheek was puffed up from a large piece of egg.

He quickly covers his mouth, “apparently someone broke into a street officer station nearby and stole some criminal records. It was in the newspaper this morning.” I resist the urge to look at Knives’s expression as he explains. “I wonder why’d they steal criminal records though,” Jyrasck ends after swallowing. I suppress the second thought to quirk an expression at Knives as I nod.

“Dunno, maybe they weren’t actually looking for criminal records and didn’t know where what was.” I shrug, humoring the male’s conversation starter. We stay a little longer after breakfast before heading back to Jyrasck’s Inn.

“Jyra! Thank Adonas you’re safe! I was scared you’d gone and got offed someplace,” Elena greets us back with the second teary hug-tackle of our time here.

Jyrasck makes a soft, “wuf” noise upon hug impact, “I wouldn’t go in the middle of a gang fight after just coming back to the inn.” He smiles an almost fake-feeling smile, “plus I’d wipe them out in an instant with my rapier wit.” Jyrasck jokes, feeling (maybe) weaker than his normal snapbacks.

Fareed, who was behind the bar as always, chirrups at his return. “Well good, because we just ran outta newbie bards and bands willing to play.”

Jyrasck snaps to attention, “really? Even Hot Tup?”

“Yeah, they broke apart after one of them took their girlfriend out on a gig night.”

“I bet it was Will,” Jyrasck chuckles a little. “I guess I could brush up on my guitar.”

“Whazzat?” Cana asks, the maroon haired male turns swiftly around in response, mouth theatrically agape.

“You don’t know guitars, you don’t know music, dahling. Come come! You too, Mist dearest,” he puts a hand on either one of our shoulders, quickly leading us to what could only be his bedroom with collapsible furniture (desks) sticking out from underneath a large bed and a weirdly textured board with pins and pictures riddling it.

Jyrasck walks quickly into the corner with papers and an oddly shaped piece of wood. He sits on a stool and starts rattling off things about the wood, Cana hanging on every word. Disinterested, I observe the weird texture-y board and its images. I see a lot of mainly ideas, notes-to-self, and what-not on the board. Soon after, I quickly lock onto a framed, black and white image of a dark haired man with a large, toothy smile. Below him, a waddling, chubby child is looking at his feet whilst being held up by his hands. The child wore a little hat, a glimpse of lighter hair underneath. It takes me a minute to realize that it was of Jyrasck and the “Eldric” person.

Curiosity takes over and I ask about the framed picture.

“Oh, that old thing was when the inn was first being renovated, He had the same thing up in his room, before he… y’know.” Jyrasck’s face turns grieving and downcast for the slightest moment before he goes back to his beaming smile and explanation of musical tools.