The commons held many bags, and crates. It seemed that many of them held bread, dried fruits, and jerkies. One of the soldiers had wanted to find something to spice things up. Opening up a cabinet her hand experimentally picked up a jar or cinnamon.
She thinned her gaze to read the contents. 'Oh wow, we don't even have this at home'. The top wiggled and slipped off of the bottle.
Solemnly and calmly her eyes followed down to the tap on the floor which exploded cinnamon all over the floor.
There came faint mumbles, it was some ways off though.
Not bothered by this, her head quirked a bit towards the doorway to the hall.
Her eyes returned to the contaminants of the floor. Wasted. She could have really done something with that. Maybe even have made a soup or something. Or a sweet treat. Anything!
Clearly footsteps paired the voices she'd detected before. It was a certain type of gruff and drag in the quality of the voice she heard; "-I don't care what you do, get out of my fac