Gallus says awkwardly at the table, his eyes darting around the room nervously. Gabby was busy helping Gilda with her stew, while the two other griffons sat along each side of him. He sweated, eyeing the two with nervous energy.
“So....what is Gilda making?”
“Stew,” the smaller griffon deadpanned, not interested in the conversation. Grandpa Gruff, on the other claw, huffed.
“Ever since her pony friends came here Griffonstone, she’s been doin’ Nuthin’ but cookin’,” the elderly griffon commented. His blind eye seemed to look at Gallus, though he wasn’t sure.
Gallus laughed awkwardly, his eyes trailing towards the stone floor. It peered around the room, observing his surroundings with a closer eye.
The room was cluttered; books laying on the floor, baskets scattered about, and floorboards popped from the ceiling. The only thing that seemed tidy was the counter on the other side of the room. Neat bundles of herds were placed in an order, with a mortar and pestle next to it.
Gallus briefly wondered if they even cleaned the place.
“Stew’s ready!” Gabby sang, plopping the pot on the table. Gilda came with a ladle, portioning the stew into five stone bowls. Passing them about, Gallus grabbed the one the white-feathered griffon handed to him, wincing at the heat emitting from the bowl.
Gabby sat excitedly at the table, taking of her satchel. Without wasting a minute, she dug into the meal, not even complaining about the level of heat. The older griffon rolled her eyes at her little sister, gulping down her portion. Throwing it into the sink, she began to climb the stairs.
“Gramps, it’s your turn to wash dishes,” she called, before disappearing up the dark stairwell.
Grandpa Gruff mumbled incoherently, glaring at his bowl of stew. The blue griffon took the bowl, slowly tipping some into his beak.
His eyes widen. “This is good.”
Gabby giggled on the other side of the table. “Gilda is excellent at making dinner! Her friend Pinkie Pie lent some ingredient for her to use, and it’s made the food extra delicious!”
“Less talkin’ more eatin’,” Grandpa Gruff grumbled, finishing his bowl. He turned to the smallest griffon in the table. “Gavin, after yer are done eatin’ go to sleep, ya hear me?”
“Yes sir,” Gavin replied sarcastically, pushing the bowl away from him. He excused himself from the table. “Wasn’t hungry anyway.”
The elderly griffon glared at his grandson, watching him with hawk eyes as he flew upstairs. “Gabby that goes for yer, too.”
The grey griffon sighed, placing her empty bowl sink. Unlike her siblings, she washed her own, letting the water wash off the residue of remaining junk. She too left the room, leaving Gallus with the grumpy old guy.
The blue griffon hadn’t touched his bowl a whole lot, more focused on the surroundings around him. He wasn’t until the elderly griffon tapped the table was when he was pulled back into reality.
“Yer gonna finish or...”
“Oh...uh, yeah I’ll finish,” Gallus stammered hastily, trying to finish the rest of the stew. Grandpa Gruff grumbled, flying over to the sink. The blue griffon heard the facet run, dowsing the bowls and pot with cool water. He cleaned his bowl, not letting a single drop of stew go to waste. “Would you like it if I washed my dish or...”
“Whatever, sonny,” the elderly griffon answered gruffly. Taking his hostile tone into account, Gallus cautiously places the bowl into the stone sink, hoping to not step on a metaphorical land mine while he did so.
“I guess I’ll leave now-“
“Don’t,” Gruff interrupted, and Gallus was taken aback. “Gabby will annoy me tomorrow about this, so it’s better than yow stayed.”
The blue griffon blink, unsure he heard correctly. He looked around the space, contemplating what to do.
“So....where should I sleep?”
“Hammock,” the elderly griffon pointed towards the hanging white hammock that still hung from the broken ceiling. “Gilda stopped using that old thing when she got herself her own room.”
Gallus nodded, climbing into the stray hammock. He noted how soft it was, softer than most other stuff he had. Except for the blanket, nothing will top the blanket.
I miss my old box, Gallus thought glumly. Though his branch had sufficed, for now, he never quite felt he...belonged there. It never felt as secure or comforting as his old “home” once was.
“I’ll never understand Gabby,” he heard Grandpa Gruff muttered. He perked his head towards the elderly griffon, listening in while also realizing that this was probably a bad idea. The grey-black griffon seemed to mumble to himself. “Always talkin’ ‘bout friendship and helping...”
“Why is Gabby so different from all of you?” Gallus asked before he could stop himself. The blue fledgling shrunk back into the hanging hammock when Gruff’s eyes locked onto his own. His beak curled into a frown.
“Think it'z yer business, sonny?”
Gallus quickly shook his head. “No, I’m just wondering...”
The older griffon didn’t answer, turning back to the dishes. Gallus accepted that he wasn’t going to get an answer, laying his head into the curve of his arm.
“None of ‘em are mine,” Gallus looked back at the elderly griffon. Gruff was putting the wet bowls and dishes back into the cupboards, unconcerned about the noise they were making. “Never had children in my life. They all just showed up on my doorstep on the night, and I have been in charge of ‘em ever since.”
Not the answer he was expecting but... okay? “Why did you take them in?”
“Gabby’s egg was damaged, so I took ‘er in to patch it up. She hatched a few week afterwards and came into my responsibilities. Don’t know what happened that day; no mother or father left anything.” Gruff seemed to be lost in though as he told Gallus what happened.
“Gilda’s mother was a colleague of mine, gave her to me before she died,” Grandpa Gruff let out a dry laugh. “Her husband stabbed ‘er twenty times, she died right on my doorsteps.” Gallus shuttered, looking at the unhinges door that leads into the house. He would never look at that piece of wood the same way again.
“...and Gavin’s egg was being tossed around by older fledglings, foolish ‘nuff to think it was a ball of some sort. Had to chase those hooligans away with a stick,” he coughed, feathers becoming lose again. The blue griffon looked at the older griffon in a new light.
“I’m surprised,” Gallus admitted. “I thought it was an obligation.”
“Yeah yeah I get that a lot,” the older griffon mused, his gaze hardens. “You owe me bits.”
“What? Why?” Gallus sputtered, fidgeting his wings. His talons clawed at the hammock’s fabric.
“I don’t tell stories for free ya know? Bits.”
“I don’t have bits...”
“Well then, I guess I’ll have to ask Gabby to for you then.”
“Wait but-“
Gallus was silenced as Grandpa Gruff glared at him. Silently, the elderly griffon flew ungracefully up the stairs, hitting every step of the way. Accepting the conversation was done, Gallus curled himself into a ball, resting his feathered tail along the bridge of his beak.
Closing his eyes, he let himself drift into a, surprisingly, peaceful slumber.