[P] tea for every occasion

[Isorath]

I S O R A T H THE SPIRE OF THE SUN The times ahead would be filled with buffeting winds and unstable rocks, it was unavoidable. Like all the best stories, there were pitfalls and losses, just as much as there were victories carefully recorded in inked pages. Florentine had every Court in the Land's gaze upon her, baited breath as their quills quivered in low candlight. Unavoidable, but it could wait. Here in this palace of tea smoke and incense, silk curtains and goose feather cushions, there are no expectations which loomed dangerously overhead, just out of sight like daggers held by a thread. It is a handcrafted sanctuary, one that Isorath resided in as both King and Oracle. When Florentine arrived, the Sage allowed himself a moment to really look at her. She's honey, caramel and sugar spun together — with eyes that remind him much of his own, same as the flowers tangled bewitchingly in her hair. She would be much at home in a meadow of flowers and babbling brooks as the decadence she now resided in. Pretty, and there is a tug which pulled within him, but his gaze and countenence reflected nothing of his internal dialogue. He is serene, he radiated calming waves as the ocean did against the sandy shoreline. "If there is one thing you must know about me," he began silkily, a playful glint burned in the lilac of his eyes, "I take the need for strong tea very seriously." Indeed, tea was an excellent excuse for headaches, annoyances or general escapism when you would rather not deal with the days antics. More and more, Isorath found it an appealing and practical source of comfort, for situations such as this. A King without a Crown, and a Queen who had found hers. Dutifully, the scrolls are rounded up and stored away for another time, now that his guest has arrived and seated herself, as he languidly stretched out upon his pillows. He is not immune to the gaze he felt upon his porcelain and gilded frame, the idle comment is swallowed before it's allowed to spread it's wings and fly between them. He allowed Florentine to look at him, briefly and silently, Isorath wondered what the girl with flowers in her hair and honey skin saw. The hummingbird is a sweet relief from his wandering mind, and he watched it with rapt attention. Such delicate creatures often haunted the water gardens of his home, their iridescent bodies a mirage as they fluttered between on sweet flower and the rest. Denocte Fruits. The kirin glanced from beneath long snow coloured lashes to the fruit in question, the bird forgotten in the wake of Florentine's delicate voice. "Ah, yes. I have grown rather fond of some of their sweets and fruits in my time there." He confessed with a sighed breath, a smile painted on his sharp features. "Please, help yourself. I'm rather fond of the peaches myself." He offered, his teke lightly pushed the bowl toward her with his words. When Florentine inquired as to his time in Denocte, the ethereal man allowed himself a moment of silence. A hundred different thoughts whirled like cherry blossoms, settling on the waters of his mind. He had grown fond, perhaps too fond of Denocte and her Court of Smoke and Stars, of those he had met there. "It has been eventful." He settled on with a thoughtful hum. "Their library is vast, I've barely scratched the surface. I spend my time mostly between the library and in the company of the Courtiers, and their Sovereign of course. It's all rather enchanting, as I'm sure you know." Her request for tea is answered with the sound of poured tea and clinking china, before the prepared cup is offered to her. Isorath's own cup is pulled toward him once he's sure Florentine has hers. "It's honey and oolong, if you'd like something else — you only have to say. The spirits are in the box there." A taloned finger elegantly pointed toward the engraved box. "But, you asked why I summoned you." He asked as he sipped at his own tea. "I wanted to see how you were feeling, first. Being crowned is no easy pill to swallow." A note of care is finely threaded into his words, one that came from experience and perhaps one of the few places within himself which openly cared for others. Florentine is young, thrust into a seat precariously perched. "Secondly, I must ask your opinions on the alliance with Day. Do you intend to honor it?" He's not one for flowering his words when it came to politics and the affairs of the Crown, he is invested and he must know. @Florentine table scrolls!

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