Welcome to Gaia! ::

((Sorry all, working on several papers for school, posting will be a bit hectic for me as well the next week or two, as well.))
((Awesome moves with Isaac, M'Lady.))

Dark felt Graff's words like a blade. Even in his frown, one eyebrow sank more than the other. ' 'Acts the mysterious tough guy?' Who does he think he is? Who's acting?' Dark watched the men, as the aggression seemed to escalate from playful to angry. As Roy set up the challenge, Dark readied a fighting stance, one hand over the dagger's blade. Graff delayed the fight. Dark stayed for a moment, until Roy agreed. Somewhat disappointed, Dark was strangely relieved the fight wouldn't take place yet. But this challenge would be an interesting one. For now, Dark lowered his guard and prepared to follow Graff once more.

Siom watched the action as the fight unraveled. Already, things were moving at a fast pace. "C'mon, Isaac!" Siom shouted with enthusiasm. Realizing his bias, he tried to correct himself, "Er.. You too, Shin-lu, Ilyana!" He leaned forward a bit, his eyes intently focused on the field.

Dark nodded and followed Graff into the lounge. There was a strange clicking coming from the back. As the door opened, he paused for a moment and just stood in the entrance of the kitchen - not for the food being prepared, but for who was in there.

Par'il had been grinding the grains. All the bowls sat evenly in a row along the counter - two of the six types of grain already mounded into a fine powder, one bowl currently empty. Par'il currently sat cross-legged on the table with a mortar in his lap. The pestle in his hand moved rapidly in a circular motion, rolling along one side of the clay dish. As the door opened, Par'il stopped moving the utensil and looked up with a smile. "Hello, Graff," he said with a slight bow of the head. Dark's presence confused him. He was certain Dark wouldn't have come. Still, the man was here, standing in the doorway, unmoving. Par'il nodded again, "Hello, Dark." His tone was softer with Dark's greeting. Par'il then looked back down and continued grinding.

Dark ignored the greeting. He merely observed. As Par'il started up again, the quick tapping of the pestle on the mortar was rather annoying. Click, click, click, click, click, click... He tried to drown it out... but it was a futile attempt. Still, he did not wish to be a cause of a fight at the moment. Dark finally turned to Graff, "So... what needs to be done?"

((Lol, nice combo Presea.))

Dark's eyes shifted and twitched in small movements, following the back and forth actions of the pestle. Fianlly, Par'il stopped, and set down the mortar of flour. Focusing back on Graff, he questioned, "Like what? Veal? Venison? Pork? Or would you prefer a pasta? Either way, it's still morning. Unless we have to hunt for the animal, the dish would only take an hour or two to prepare."

Par'il set the ground grains beside him and stood up from the table. He turned to pick up the mortar. Dark began listing off his meals. Par'il shuttered. He shook his head and continued what he was doing prior as if he hadn't heard a thing. He carried the mortar to the empty bowl, neatly pouring the powdered grains into the semi-spherical container. Again, rinsing the mortar quickly and drying it with the same towel he had been using, he poured one of the two wheat bowls in the mortar and began repeating the action.