50th of Vhalar 720
The art of tea-brewing was something of a revelation to Woe. He’d rarely been one to engage in hobbies or affectations that distracted him from his current agenda. Yet more and more he saw the need for perspective, especially given the fact that everything he seemed to touch with the slightest bit of favor turned to ash in his hands. A hobby was needed, beyond physical exercise and preparing for war or conflict. Pursuits that weren’t in furtherance of some agenda, whether it be his, his mother’s or her cult’s.
So, he chose something he took to be altogether alien to his mother’s peculiar fixations. Tea-brewing was the first one to come to mind, and given a bit of consideration, seemed innocuous enough.
So as he sat in his reception hall, in something resembling his Quacian townhouse in the Gleam, he hunched over the leaves, splayed all over the cloth he would use to steep them in. He regarded them with some fascination. Just a touch of water at the right temperature would transform not only them, but release a sublime flavor that filled the water. There were no health benefits to it that he knew of, other than keeping one up late at night, or refreshing the mind early in the morning. But in truth taht was enough. He didn’t need it to be a magic potion. It only needed to satisfy his thirst and need for warmth.
In this dream, the Dreamscape had, perhaps sympathetically, conjured him a family. Well, a daughter at least. For whatever reason he was without a wife to go with a child. Perhaps a lingering consequence of his tangle having been torn asunder by Emelia. Whatever the case, Woe didn’t feel a need for a spouse beyond keeping up appearances among polite society. Augusta would certainly fill that bill, in time. In the meantime, he had only his dreams to project what kind of offspring they might have together.
The little girl was six years old, and under layers of woolen clothing, appropriate for playing outside in the chilly weather. She curtseyed at the door tot he kitchen, from which she emerged, catching his eye. He looked at her and nodded. ”Don’t be shy, child. What is it?”
”Father, I was hoping I might join you for tea today, just this once.” She said, crossing herself nervously in front of him, as if bashful of her own father.
Woe looked down at the scattered leaves on the cloth, and shrugged, turning to glance back at his daughter, ”Very well. Do you know how to wrap a simple tea?”
She shook her head, and he smiled. ”Here, come, let me show you.” He waved her over toward the counter, where the teapot was being brought to a boil.
He took a string with one hand, and began folding the cloth on itself, creating a baggy. Around the outer edges of the bag, he began winding the string, sealing with a firm knot. He showed it to his daughter, and she nodded, absorbing the information.
Breen was nearby as well, watching his master through the dream. Likely the diri wondered why its master dwelled on this fantasy, of having kin and family of his own. Woe shrugged off his curiosity, but allowed him to stay all the same. Breen was never anything but a comfort, so far.
”And once we wrap the bag, we dip it in the hot water that we pour into the tea pot… like so.” Saying it, Woe took a kettle and began pouring the hot water into a glass teapot. Through the open lid, he dipped the bag gently, letting it soak for a few moments before drawing it out, dipping, drawing, and dipping again. After a while, he let it steep as he filled it with more water. He left it thus, with the lid shut, until the essence of the leaves spread out through the water, filling it with dark tea.
This was a very simple tea, such as they made in Quacia, with mushroom and leaves of cave grape. Perfectly safe for anyone of any age to drink, and with a mouthwatering savory taste that lingered long after drinking it. Not at all bitter, was Quacian tea.
This done, he set the table for two, placing a saucer beneath each tea cup, and a spoon to the side in case either one of them wanted to take lumps. He did this more as a test to see if his daughter would sully the flavor of the tea with such a condiment. Woe couldn't abide sugar in his own tea, and wanted to see if his daughter shared the same preference.
His daughter interjected as he set the second place for her, ”I have invited a friend to join us, Father. She’ll be here any minute with her daddy.” She slid a couple more tea cups onto the table, with their saucers. These she placed at even intervals on the table.
Woe quirked a brow, wondering at this strange initiative that the dream construct was taking. It almost destroyed his immersion in the dream and made him want to end it, but curiosity won out for him.
”Very well… We’ll wait for them… that is if they aren’t already here…” So saying, Woe began filling the empty cups with more liquid. There, he sat at his own chair, waiting for his daughter to announce that the ‘guests’ had arrived.
However, the tea went cold before anyone arrived. Woe sat and almost glowered at his daughter for upsetting his expectations. Yet he couldn't hold it against a child. He only wondered how she'd let herself be deceived by the would-be guest for tea. "Girl, who led you to believe they'd be here, when they clearly haven't shown their faces?" He asked, sternly.
She just sighed, and pat Breen on the head as he went over toward her. Breen's ears perked up, and he sent a telepathic message to Woe, "Why do I get no sustenance from her, Master? She isn't sad?"
Woe shook his head at the dog, shushing him mentally as he waited for an answer from his dream daughter. "They told me they would come." She stated forlornly.
The man shook his head fondly at his daughter, smiling through his words, "Well, they clearly misled you. I'm sure it was no fault of your own, that you weren't able to see through their lies. But you won't believe them in the future, should they make more promises, will you? Nor will you take stock or count on their assurances. A person is only as good for you as their word to you, daughter, remember that."
"Yes, Father." She said, and went back to stirring her tea, and sipping it as it cooled on the table. She didn't put lumps in the tea. Thank the Immortals.
Woe nodded, and winced as he tasted his own tea. Even in his dreams, it was rather bitter and overdone. He would need to do some work before he was any good at it.
When it was time and they'd finished their tea, Woe stood up from his place, and bid his daughter to do the same with a gesture. She followed obediently. "Daughter, come help me clear these places we set for your 'guest'."
He gestured toward the empty place that was set for a guest, with a tea cup full of liquid. She took up the cup, and almost brought it to her lips before Woe waved her to put a stop to that. "Don't drink it. It's bad form to drink someone else's tea. Just pour it out in the basin or the street."
His daughter cocked an eyebrow at that, and didn't obey before asking another question, "Why is it bad form? Will I get sick?"
"It's rude. And it suggests to the one giving you tea that you weren't satisfied with what you got... I think." Woe wasn't all that acquianted with table manners, and whatever went into the etiquette and rules for such. But it seemed to stand to reason that one shouldn't drink leftover tea that was meant for a guest. If it wasn't a rule of table manners or etiquette, he would make it so under his own roof.
So having been thus instructed, his daughter brought the tea cup over to the window, and opened the shutters. Into the ashen garden, she dumped the fluid, which fell to the ground in droplets. Then, she went back and put the dishes back in their places in the cabinet.
Woe, meanwhile, was handling the teapot. He removed the bag of tea from the tea pot, and placed it out on the counter. The tea pot he put next to the basin, for washing off by the Girl once she got to her daily chores.
