the sun will rise with my name on your lips
Already, the warmth of the tea house and the hundred-thousand scents of jasmine, rose, and bergamot have lulled some contentment and ease into Basil's muscles. The problems they face, many eyed and many headed as they are, are outside and far away. Within the confines of the room, they are powerless (or seemingly powerless) and that illusion in and of itself is enough to cease the predations upon their mind.
Basil sighs heavily into their saucer of mint tea and settles down into the thick wool rug. Just because they're able to sequester themself against the intrusive worries — would their family attempt to murder them, how could they win over their family, was their plan feasible, where was his playmate — doesn't mean those worries magically disappeared. The anxiety is there, waiting, an old friend all too willing to step into place beside them at a moment's notice. Such is their burden.
The door chimes with the arrival of another guest, interrupting the spell of melancholy, and Basil looks up expectantly. They don't always meet friends here, but a majority of their friends frequent tea shops. The odds are good. Instead, the guest is a stranger to them — antiqued brass marred by white, angles met with side-swept hair — but, with only a moment's hesitation, she makes her way to the room's center. The low table is large enough for three and she, dainty like themself, is scarcely out of room.
"Salutations!" they answer at once, beaming like the sun itself. "Would you like to join me?" They tilt their muzzle at the table, set with a single crocus, and the cozy brazier. The host, arriving quietly with tea and refreshments, becomes nearly overlooked, even as the scent of mint and honey wafts through the air. Basil's focus scatters at that, their mane trembling as they whip their head around with the frantic need to say thank you before the server has disappeared. They manage it, just barely, before the host has made his way past them.
It is easy, so easy to take for granted the jobs that would have been done by slaves such a short time ago. Unlike so much in the desert, history cannot be obscured by sandstorm and time— Basil must remember, for their heart's sake and the future of the Day Court.
But there are other things that need attention, and one of them is before them. "Sorry— my name is Basil. I don't think we've had the chance to be introduced...?" they ask politely.
cause everything will change tonight
