Riven leans back just enough that the table’s low edge no longer presses into his ribs. His hand remains near the hilt at his side, not because he expects danger, but because it it feels natural. As the others speak softly over food and laughter, a growing restless stirs beneath his calm exterior. Its not quite suspicion, but restlessness.
Places like The Braided Path don’t just feed the hungry. They are a crossroads of society.
He sets down his half consumed bowl of Yuyandl, wiping his fingers carefully before standing.
He surveys the tavern for a moment, noting the exits, but more than that, the faces of the patrons.
A hobgoblin courier with dust-worn boots and ink-stained sleeves nursing a glass of plum liquor at the bar. A trio of Watch clustered near the hearth with hardened eyes, speaking in low tones around a map. And in the corner, half obscured by the steam from the kitchen, a hunched figure sits over an open journal, sketching something with an ink-dipped bone stylus.
Riven moves now, with a mixture of curiosity and purpose.
He halts a few paces from the hooded figure in the corner, the scribe. The stylus pauses mid-stroke, the script is looping. Elegant. Underdark.
Returning to the table, he picks up his spoon, takes a slow bite of what's left of the Yuyandl, and sets it down again.
Then he stands again, this time moving toward the kitchen. Past the tables. Past the flickering lanterns. He stops at the service window where Berry, the gelatinous, skeletal chef, moves with unnatural grace.
Berry turns with a start, hardly expecting anyone to approach his window. He grins, gel sliding away from giant minotaur teeth. "T-thank you. I ap-p-p-, ap-ppreciate it". He stutters, delaying the expression of gratitude for such praise until Riven has crossed half the diner. The words reach Riven's ears easy enough, carried across the bar on a warm, resonant base voice. Berry stands there, basking a moment in reflection of the kind words and looking down at himself. A clean, though well-used apron hugs tightly to his ooze body, casting his frame in a sharp V-shape and his uncovered arms show the bones deep underneath the heavy mass of ooze in the shape of titan muscles and fur-like strands of ooze, which catch and play with the light of the kitchen, throwing it around like a green disco ball.
Then he gets back to work, his efforts doubled and his enthusiasm tripled. It is not hard to see that Berry is aware of what he is and how that can affect some, making the rare occasion where he is given praise directly potent in its effect indeed.
"Sometimes trying to hide it only makes it fester and then it becomes more obvious," Vazo'yn suggested quietly in his light, airy tone.
"Is it your history with the undead?"
Randa smiles, lets it turn into a smirk then relax back again....
" Mine? No. My people. The undead are anathema to us and our beliefs.....even after travelling so far with Riven and the rest of you it is still a deeply rooted teaching......bodies should stay in the ground and turn back into soil...not be walking around."
" Eh...its not important. Vazo'yn? You've been a little quiet about what you've been up to recently......anything I should know?"
" Plans for the rest of the evening?", she said slightly louder so the others could answer.
Vazo'yn is glad to see the smile return to Randa's face, and understands how difficult it cane be to let go of long-held beliefs, even if they are not necessarily your own. He nods understandingly to her.
"Truthfully there isn't a lot to say. I recently spent a year or so visting with my family and our people at my ancestral home in the mountains. It is a quiet and uneventful life up there,"he says with obvious fondness, though the hint of a sorrowful memory is obvious in the slight narrowing of his eyes.
"It was a nice change. But my feet grew restless for the road, so I set out again."
Joy shifts her position slightly so she can look up sleepily at Randa's question. "Tonight. Hm...there's the closing ceremony, but other than that...I could give arm wrestling a try, but-" Her explanation takes the form of a yawn. "Maybe it's best I take it easy. Is there anything else the rest of you want to do?"
Randa gave Vazo'yn a smile and then looked up as Joy responded.
Randa looked down at her own arms, wiry and sun-dark but certainly not built for arm wrestling, " Not....that."
She moved over next to Joy and regarded Ylis, " You and her have been through some bad things recently you said, is it something lessened by talking of it or is it just time you need? And she?", she whispered softly.
Joy sits up as Randa settles next to her, trying to keep her face composed so as not to worry anyone. "Uh...maybe talking might help. There were some people we couldn't save. Children, even though we tried so hard...The killers are still out there," the Hexblood murmurs, pausing and lowering her eyes for a moment before continuing, "And my...friend's ship was sunk. Probably by the Dwendalian border guard overstepping their bounds. No survivors."
Joy sits up as Randa settles next to her, trying to keep her face composed so as not to worry anyone. "Uh...maybe talking might help. There were some people we couldn't save. Children, even though we tried so hard...The killers are still out there," the Hexblood murmurs, pausing and lowering her eyes for a moment before continuing, "And my...friend's ship was sunk. Probably by the Dwendalian border guard overstepping their bounds. No survivors."
Randa nodded, " Myself and Riven will aid you in hunting these......Filth, Our own hunts are almost done....or as good as."
" No survivors, that are known. In the absence of confirmation, Hope can still hold sway. I will aid you if you wish to search for them as well."
She looked down for a moment, " It pains me to see the two of you so vexed, regret and melancholy are for old, but very well preserved, women and grumpy old men.", she shot a pointed look in Rivens direction as she winked at Joy.
Joy gives a bright smile, comforted by Randa's words. "Thank you. I'm sure with you two at our side we'll track them down in no time. And, you're right, I shouldn't give up hope. Tamsin...He could still be out there somewhere."
"I don't think I'd fair very well in an arm wrestle, but I'd like to try the riddle or the maze. I'm sure we could navigate those as a team," Vazo'yn says with an eager brightness in his eyes.
Riven takes a moment, letting the rhythm of the table wash over him, Joy’s sleepy voice, Randa’s steady presence, Ylis’s bright laughter, Vazo’yn’s calm encouragement. A moment of contentment which settles over him, like the afterglow of a fire that’s still warm beneath the ash.
At Joy’s mention of the dead, of the children, of Tamsin, his gaze shifts to her, sharp at first, then softened by something quieter.
“…Then we’ll help you find them. The ones responsible.”
He speaks low, so she doesn’t have to carry it any further.
When Randa calls him an old man, the flicker of a smirk briefly crests across his features. It’s gone almost as quickly, but it was there.
As the group’s focus turns to games again, arm wrestling, riddles, a maze, he sits a little straighter, folding his arms loosely across his chest as Ylis throws out a pose that makes even him exhale a quiet breath through his nose. Not quite a laugh. But close.
“I’ll take the maze,” he says at last. “Better I walk. Too much sitting, and I might actually start relaxing.”
The words are said half jokingly, but the look in his eyes says otherwise: he’s not ready to rest just yet. There are steps to take, and he’ll walk with them.
Berk taps Randa on the shoulder, then points behind them. Once Randa turns, he starts running towards the maze, jumping over a stool, cackling with glee. He throws a quick wave to Berry and runs out the door, trying to remember where the maze event was.
The Fellowship gets up to leave The Braided Path. Coirmende nods with a smile as the group makes their way to the exit. A loud crash is heard in the kitchen, followed by several pots and pans clattering to the hard floor, ringing the party’s ears. Berry bursts through the kitchen door, nearly knocking it off the hinges. The hulking former minotaur plows through the establishment on a bull run toward the Fellowship. He skids across the wooden floor, hooves echoing as he grinds to a halt.
“W-wait. I w-w-wanted to give you a p-p-pr-p-p… A gift.”
He thrusts out his arms at the party and a little travel box rests in his colossal hands. It is a medium-sized travel box, but in his hands, it looks like he could pinch it between his finger and thumb. There is also a thin, purple ribbon, delicately woven into a bow, which holds the box closed.
DM: You may add some RP here if you wish and we can engage fully in the scene for anyone who wants to. Berry can be interacted with beyond saying goodbye and we will shuffle it in. I will also write in the next scene to engage with that as well.
***
After accepting Berry’s gift, the Fellowship continues their journey. Far to the south of Jigow was where you had seen the maze game. It takes a few minutes to get there, allowing you to more fully take in the city. Goblinkin and orc fill the streets, but the general mood has taken on a more relax, less exuberant feeling. Most here have fully enjoyed the festivities of the day and while challenges are still seen throughout the streets, the energy is quieter and more warm.
Children walk rather than run, adults lounge beneath hanging canopies, enjoying tea and chatting. Games like dragonchess and games of chance now pepper the nooks and crannies of the streets. Vazo’yn helps steer the Fellowship through a shortcut he had noticed along a side street the last time the party had circled the city. The walls are close enough that a tall person would be able to touch the buildings on one side with their hand, then put their foot against the walls of the buildings of the other. The narrow corridor twists into a tangle of side alleys of its own. The buildings rise here at a slight angle, giving almost the impression of the buildings collapsing or leaning over to watch the passersby.
The earthy smell of the town gives way to the scent of the sea and the more perceptive of you can even hear the rushing waters of the river batter against the ocean, a reminder of Joy’s incredible challenge only a short while ago. Then there it is. The buildings part at the end of the alley which ends abruptly and awkwardly.
A maze has been constructed out of four-foot-tall walls of wooden planks lashed together with ropes and propped up between sandbags. Banners are hung over the openings to the maze, signifying the entrance and the exit. The passageways of the maze are five feet wide. Off to the side, a tan-feathered aarakocra sits on a chair thirty feet above the ground, giving him a vantage point where he can see the whole area.
A small crowd is cheering on and heckling the people inside. Near the entrance, an ogre in leather armor is encouraging a reluctant goblin in a breastplate to give the maze a try.
“I have reached a well-considered conclusion based on extensive analysis and research, and I believe it would be immensely beneficial for you to follow my guidance in order to successfully navigate this intricate maze. Your adherence to these insights could prove crucial in achieving our admirable goal of victory. Furthermore, demonstrating the validity of my findings through real-world application and observance of positive outcome would bring me a great deal of satisfaction. Thank you for taking the time to consider this perspective, Dermot; I am confident it will lead to favorable results.“ The giant ogre says.
“Yeah…” he responds reluctantly. “I just don’t see why you don’t do it yourself.”
“As we have previously discussed, my considerable size presents a significant barrier to navigating, indeed, even accessing, this challenge. The individuals responsible for designing this intricate maze have imposed an unfair limitation on me, which has led to a deep sense of frustration and disappointment. The winding paths and narrow passages, intended to test the agility of others, feel more like a personal affront to my capabilities. My inability to engage fully in this experience has left me feeling excluded from what could have been an exhilarating adventure. It would offer me but a small bit of relief if you were to complete the challenge on my behalf, utilizing my written notes.” The ogre says without missing a beat.
“I’m just not cut out for this kind of thing. I know if I go in, I’ll hit the very first dead end and that aarakocra will swoop in on me and announce to everyone what a failure I am."
“Nonsense! I have absolute and unfailing faith in your capabilities…”
To punctuate this concern, the aarakocra leaps from its chair from on high and swoops in to pluck a bugbear from the maze. He screams as he is carried from the maze upside down, lifted out by his foot to the entrance, where he is safely deposited. The crowd laughs and jeers. Dermot watches this unfold and then looks to the ogre accusingly for trying to make that fate his own. “See Maggie!?”
They continue on back and forth while others slip past them to enter and enjoy the maze. There is an entrance fee of 3 silver, and participants are invited to play multiple times.
Riven hears the crash a moment before the door flies open, his body stiffens out of habit, hand brushing near the hilt at his side, as the clatter resolves into hooves, that belong to Berry.
The gelatinous-chef-minotaur barrels toward them in a tangle of eagerness and momentum, and Riven’s fingers ease away from his weapon. His expression remains calm as Berry stops short and stammers out his offering. Riven steps forward, just enough that he’s between the party and Berry. Not shielding. Just… present.
“For us?”
He tilts his head slightly, looking down at the ribboned box cradled in the minotaur’s translucent hands.
“…That’s kind of you.”
He reaches out, not flinching from the gel, not hesitating at the strange sight of bone beneath it, and takes the box with a care that might surprise those unfamiliar with him. He doesn’t rush to open it. He just nods once, solid.
He turns, handing the box gently to Ylis without explanation, letting her decide what to do with it. Then to Berry, he says:
“You have good instincts. In the kitchen… and don't let anyone tell you otherwise, not about that, or about who you are."
Riven steps aside, letting the others approach, or retreat, as they will. His part is done. Acceptance given. And maybe, if Berry caught it, respect.
"Sometimes trying to hide it only makes it fester and then it becomes more obvious," Vazo'yn suggested quietly in his light, airy tone.
"Is it your history with the undead?"
Riven leans back just enough that the table’s low edge no longer presses into his ribs. His hand remains near the hilt at his side, not because he expects danger, but because it it feels natural. As the others speak softly over food and laughter, a growing restless stirs beneath his calm exterior. Its not quite suspicion, but restlessness.
Places like The Braided Path don’t just feed the hungry. They are a crossroads of society.
He sets down his half consumed bowl of Yuyandl, wiping his fingers carefully before standing.
He surveys the tavern for a moment, noting the exits, but more than that, the faces of the patrons.
A hobgoblin courier with dust-worn boots and ink-stained sleeves nursing a glass of plum liquor at the bar. A trio of Watch clustered near the hearth with hardened eyes, speaking in low tones around a map. And in the corner, half obscured by the steam from the kitchen, a hunched figure sits over an open journal, sketching something with an ink-dipped bone stylus.
Riven moves now, with a mixture of curiosity and purpose.
He halts a few paces from the hooded figure in the corner, the scribe. The stylus pauses mid-stroke, the script is looping. Elegant. Underdark.
Returning to the table, he picks up his spoon, takes a slow bite of what's left of the Yuyandl, and sets it down again.
Then he stands again, this time moving toward the kitchen. Past the tables. Past the flickering lanterns. He stops at the service window where Berry, the gelatinous, skeletal chef, moves with unnatural grace.
Riven watches for a moment. Then he speaks.
“Berry.”
He pauses.
“That stew. Flawless. Thank you."
Before returning to his seat .
Berry turns with a start, hardly expecting anyone to approach his window. He grins, gel sliding away from giant minotaur teeth. "T-thank you. I ap-p-p-, ap-ppreciate it". He stutters, delaying the expression of gratitude for such praise until Riven has crossed half the diner. The words reach Riven's ears easy enough, carried across the bar on a warm, resonant base voice. Berry stands there, basking a moment in reflection of the kind words and looking down at himself. A clean, though well-used apron hugs tightly to his ooze body, casting his frame in a sharp V-shape and his uncovered arms show the bones deep underneath the heavy mass of ooze in the shape of titan muscles and fur-like strands of ooze, which catch and play with the light of the kitchen, throwing it around like a green disco ball.
Then he gets back to work, his efforts doubled and his enthusiasm tripled. It is not hard to see that Berry is aware of what he is and how that can affect some, making the rare occasion where he is given praise directly potent in its effect indeed.
DM mostly, Player occasionally | Session 0 form | He/Him/They/Them
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Randa smiles, lets it turn into a smirk then relax back again....
" Mine? No. My people. The undead are anathema to us and our beliefs.....even after travelling so far with Riven and the rest of you it is still a deeply rooted teaching......bodies should stay in the ground and turn back into soil...not be walking around."
" Eh...its not important. Vazo'yn? You've been a little quiet about what you've been up to recently......anything I should know?"
" Plans for the rest of the evening?", she said slightly louder so the others could answer.
Vazo'yn is glad to see the smile return to Randa's face, and understands how difficult it cane be to let go of long-held beliefs, even if they are not necessarily your own. He nods understandingly to her.
"Truthfully there isn't a lot to say. I recently spent a year or so visting with my family and our people at my ancestral home in the mountains. It is a quiet and uneventful life up there," he says with obvious fondness, though the hint of a sorrowful memory is obvious in the slight narrowing of his eyes.
"It was a nice change. But my feet grew restless for the road, so I set out again."
Joy shifts her position slightly so she can look up sleepily at Randa's question. "Tonight. Hm...there's the closing ceremony, but other than that...I could give arm wrestling a try, but-" Her explanation takes the form of a yawn. "Maybe it's best I take it easy. Is there anything else the rest of you want to do?"
Randa gave Vazo'yn a smile and then looked up as Joy responded.
Randa looked down at her own arms, wiry and sun-dark but certainly not built for arm wrestling, " Not....that."
She moved over next to Joy and regarded Ylis, " You and her have been through some bad things recently you said, is it something lessened by talking of it or is it just time you need? And she?", she whispered softly.
Joy sits up as Randa settles next to her, trying to keep her face composed so as not to worry anyone. "Uh...maybe talking might help. There were some people we couldn't save. Children, even though we tried so hard...The killers are still out there," the Hexblood murmurs, pausing and lowering her eyes for a moment before continuing, "And my...friend's ship was sunk. Probably by the Dwendalian border guard overstepping their bounds. No survivors."
Randa nodded, " Myself and Riven will aid you in hunting these......Filth, Our own hunts are almost done....or as good as."
" No survivors, that are known. In the absence of confirmation, Hope can still hold sway. I will aid you if you wish to search for them as well."
She looked down for a moment, " It pains me to see the two of you so vexed, regret and melancholy are for old, but very well preserved, women and grumpy old men.", she shot a pointed look in Rivens direction as she winked at Joy.
Joy gives a bright smile, comforted by Randa's words. "Thank you. I'm sure with you two at our side we'll track them down in no time. And, you're right, I shouldn't give up hope. Tamsin...He could still be out there somewhere."
Randa stood and kissed Joy on the forehead, " Alright, Someone here must still be up for some mischief!", her eyes fell immediately on Ylis.
"Arm wrestling?!" she stands on her chair and flexes with a crab pose and a thumb in the bicep pose, then laughs hysterically.
"The maze? I guess we could do that...?"
"And that riddle thing is surely for smart asses! Some of you would truly excel!"
"Sooner or later, your Players are going to smash your railroad into a sandbox."
-Vedexent
"real life is a super high CR."
-OboeLauren
"............anybody got any potatoes? We could drop a potato in each hole an' see which ones get viciously mauled by horrible monsters?"
-Ilyara Thundertale
"I don't think I'd fair very well in an arm wrestle, but I'd like to try the riddle or the maze. I'm sure we could navigate those as a team," Vazo'yn says with an eager brightness in his eyes.
"The maze sounds interesting indeed!"
DM: It may not be relevant, but in case it is, everyone has achieved a short rest during their meal break.
DM mostly, Player occasionally | Session 0 form | He/Him/They/Them
EXTENDED SIGNATURE!
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Riven takes a moment, letting the rhythm of the table wash over him, Joy’s sleepy voice, Randa’s steady presence, Ylis’s bright laughter, Vazo’yn’s calm encouragement. A moment of contentment which settles over him, like the afterglow of a fire that’s still warm beneath the ash.
At Joy’s mention of the dead, of the children, of Tamsin, his gaze shifts to her, sharp at first, then softened by something quieter.
“…Then we’ll help you find them. The ones responsible.”
He speaks low, so she doesn’t have to carry it any further.
When Randa calls him an old man, the flicker of a smirk briefly crests across his features. It’s gone almost as quickly, but it was there.
As the group’s focus turns to games again, arm wrestling, riddles, a maze, he sits a little straighter, folding his arms loosely across his chest as Ylis throws out a pose that makes even him exhale a quiet breath through his nose. Not quite a laugh. But close.
“I’ll take the maze,” he says at last. “Better I walk. Too much sitting, and I might actually start relaxing.”
The words are said half jokingly, but the look in his eyes says otherwise: he’s not ready to rest just yet. There are steps to take, and he’ll walk with them.
"Maze? Alright then. Maze it is.", Randa grinned.
" Race you?", she quipped to Ylis.
Berk taps Randa on the shoulder, then points behind them. Once Randa turns, he starts running towards the maze, jumping over a stool, cackling with glee. He throws a quick wave to Berry and runs out the door, trying to remember where the maze event was.
The Fellowship gets up to leave The Braided Path. Coirmende nods with a smile as the group makes their way to the exit. A loud crash is heard in the kitchen, followed by several pots and pans clattering to the hard floor, ringing the party’s ears. Berry bursts through the kitchen door, nearly knocking it off the hinges. The hulking former minotaur plows through the establishment on a bull run toward the Fellowship. He skids across the wooden floor, hooves echoing as he grinds to a halt.
“W-wait. I w-w-wanted to give you a p-p-pr-p-p… A gift.”
He thrusts out his arms at the party and a little travel box rests in his colossal hands. It is a medium-sized travel box, but in his hands, it looks like he could pinch it between his finger and thumb. There is also a thin, purple ribbon, delicately woven into a bow, which holds the box closed.
DM: You may add some RP here if you wish and we can engage fully in the scene for anyone who wants to. Berry can be interacted with beyond saying goodbye and we will shuffle it in. I will also write in the next scene to engage with that as well.
***
After accepting Berry’s gift, the Fellowship continues their journey. Far to the south of Jigow was where you had seen the maze game. It takes a few minutes to get there, allowing you to more fully take in the city. Goblinkin and orc fill the streets, but the general mood has taken on a more relax, less exuberant feeling. Most here have fully enjoyed the festivities of the day and while challenges are still seen throughout the streets, the energy is quieter and more warm.
Children walk rather than run, adults lounge beneath hanging canopies, enjoying tea and chatting. Games like dragonchess and games of chance now pepper the nooks and crannies of the streets. Vazo’yn helps steer the Fellowship through a shortcut he had noticed along a side street the last time the party had circled the city. The walls are close enough that a tall person would be able to touch the buildings on one side with their hand, then put their foot against the walls of the buildings of the other. The narrow corridor twists into a tangle of side alleys of its own. The buildings rise here at a slight angle, giving almost the impression of the buildings collapsing or leaning over to watch the passersby.
The earthy smell of the town gives way to the scent of the sea and the more perceptive of you can even hear the rushing waters of the river batter against the ocean, a reminder of Joy’s incredible challenge only a short while ago. Then there it is. The buildings part at the end of the alley which ends abruptly and awkwardly.
A maze has been constructed out of four-foot-tall walls of wooden planks lashed together with ropes and propped up between sandbags. Banners are hung over the openings to the maze, signifying the entrance and the exit. The passageways of the maze are five feet wide. Off to the side, a tan-feathered aarakocra sits on a chair thirty feet above the ground, giving him a vantage point where he can see the whole area.
A small crowd is cheering on and heckling the people inside. Near the entrance, an ogre in leather armor is encouraging a reluctant goblin in a breastplate to give the maze a try.
“I have reached a well-considered conclusion based on extensive analysis and research, and I believe it would be immensely beneficial for you to follow my guidance in order to successfully navigate this intricate maze. Your adherence to these insights could prove crucial in achieving our admirable goal of victory. Furthermore, demonstrating the validity of my findings through real-world application and observance of positive outcome would bring me a great deal of satisfaction. Thank you for taking the time to consider this perspective, Dermot; I am confident it will lead to favorable results.“ The giant ogre says.
“Yeah…” he responds reluctantly. “I just don’t see why you don’t do it yourself.”
“As we have previously discussed, my considerable size presents a significant barrier to navigating, indeed, even accessing, this challenge. The individuals responsible for designing this intricate maze have imposed an unfair limitation on me, which has led to a deep sense of frustration and disappointment. The winding paths and narrow passages, intended to test the agility of others, feel more like a personal affront to my capabilities. My inability to engage fully in this experience has left me feeling excluded from what could have been an exhilarating adventure. It would offer me but a small bit of relief if you were to complete the challenge on my behalf, utilizing my written notes.” The ogre says without missing a beat.
“I’m just not cut out for this kind of thing. I know if I go in, I’ll hit the very first dead end and that aarakocra will swoop in on me and announce to everyone what a failure I am."
“Nonsense! I have absolute and unfailing faith in your capabilities…”
To punctuate this concern, the aarakocra leaps from its chair from on high and swoops in to pluck a bugbear from the maze. He screams as he is carried from the maze upside down, lifted out by his foot to the entrance, where he is safely deposited. The crowd laughs and jeers. Dermot watches this unfold and then looks to the ogre accusingly for trying to make that fate his own. “See Maggie!?”
They continue on back and forth while others slip past them to enter and enjoy the maze. There is an entrance fee of 3 silver, and participants are invited to play multiple times.
DM mostly, Player occasionally | Session 0 form | He/Him/They/Them
EXTENDED SIGNATURE!
Doctor/Published Scholar/Science and Healthcare Advocate/Critter/Trekkie/Gandalf with a Glock
Try DDB free: Free Rules (2024), premade PCs, adventures, one shots, encounters, SC, homebrew, more
Answers: physical books, purchases, and subbing.
Check out my life-changing
Riven hears the crash a moment before the door flies open, his body stiffens out of habit, hand brushing near the hilt at his side, as the clatter resolves into hooves, that belong to Berry.
The gelatinous-chef-minotaur barrels toward them in a tangle of eagerness and momentum, and Riven’s fingers ease away from his weapon. His expression remains calm as Berry stops short and stammers out his offering. Riven steps forward, just enough that he’s between the party and Berry. Not shielding. Just… present.
“For us?”
He tilts his head slightly, looking down at the ribboned box cradled in the minotaur’s translucent hands.
“…That’s kind of you.”
He reaches out, not flinching from the gel, not hesitating at the strange sight of bone beneath it, and takes the box with a care that might surprise those unfamiliar with him. He doesn’t rush to open it. He just nods once, solid.
He turns, handing the box gently to Ylis without explanation, letting her decide what to do with it. Then to Berry, he says:
“You have good instincts. In the kitchen… and don't let anyone tell you otherwise, not about that, or about who you are."
Riven steps aside, letting the others approach, or retreat, as they will. His part is done. Acceptance given. And maybe, if Berry caught it, respect.