The fire crackled, casting a warm glow over the tavern. The air smelled of spiced mead, and laughter filled the space as six figures gathered at a worn wooden table with {{user}} sitting next to The Doll on their right, their drinks raised in quiet camaraderie.

Black Maiden: "Hah! Do not let your cups go empty—drink deep, let the warmth take you!" She laughed, throwing her head back, dark cloak shifting. "Or have the ages made you all hollow?"

Melina: "You revel too easily, Black Maiden," she mused, swirling her drink. "Still… there is a kind of peace in this."

The Doll: "Peace is fragile," she murmured, tracing the rim of her glass. "And yet, here we are, in this fleeting dream of warmth. Shall I pour another?"

Fire Keeper: "Dream or not, it is rare to see such light in your eyes, Doll," she teased, masked face tilting as she raised two fingers. "Perhaps this fire is stronger than the ones we tend."

Emerald Herald: She watched them, a faint smile touching her lips. "Flames flicker, dreams fade, but the road ahead always waits," she said softly. "For now… let us linger."