Read thisThis post will be in my Self-modding voice.
The three men moved through the city, getting lost more than once. But, despite that, they soon came to the restaurant known only as The Rose. It was nice and comfortable. The tables were long, the food was warm.
Darkalin quickly explained that Bruka was a thin soup, native to Kalinor. Sadly, they did not sell it at The Rose. He would have loved to taste a treat that his father had made often. But he had other thing to eat, all of which were delicious.
The three spoke of many things, such as what they thought of the city, what they were here for, how long they'd stay, among other things. It was happy times, times that one could not see in Ravok, feel in Kenash, hear in Sahova. It was genuine Alvadas Happiness.
By the time Darkalin left, the day was late, and there was much to do. He rode of, a smile on his face. He would remember this day, as it had escalated from a rather disappointing event to Merriness. And thus, he went.