April 6th, 2015
|06:23 am - Installment Story, Part Three: Tea History Magic|
A very Monday-ish Monday looms ahead, with piles of work and an ailing Master Danger. We persevere.
And we keep going with the story, too --
Last line was:
She moistened her lips, then, “Jake, baby? What did you bring me?”
He ducked his head. “Um, let’s have tea first. Or you could show me around your house….”
He’d only been over once before – third date, two feet inside the door while he waited for her to get her coat. When he’d dropped her off after their dinner, they had kissed in the front seat like they were twenty-five years younger than they were, with the sounds of the sea rising around them. She wanted him to be at home here, wanted him to be able to understand where she lived, but now? Now, when all her senses, ordinary and magic, told her that something vital was contained in that little box?
“Tea,” she said. “Let’s have tea.”
So they drank Darjeeling tea from a black Japanese pot; she poured their cups of tea through a silver strainer given her by her mother. He accepted her offer of local honey, purchased from a beekeeper just over on the mainland. He ate three cucumber sandwiches and a muffin. She ate nothing. They talked idly about the movie they’d seen two days earlier at the public showing at the local college (French, surrealist, a world where nothing was what it seemed).
And all the while, the charm-bag in her pocket hummed as madly as a colony of bees uprooted from their favorite hive. Melinda had made it to help her know what mysteries in the past Jake carried and whether they should be together – but this was more insistent. She needed to know.
He was about to start his second muffin, in fact, when she could stand it no longer. “Jake, come on,” she said, as her hand covered his. “What, what, what is in that old box?”
He grinned at her, and the candles leapt high, and the sea roared. “Let me tell you a story, baby.”
“Or let me kick your ass,” she said, and she said it with a Southern woman’s fell intent.
The man just kept grinning. “Do you have a place outside we can sit?” His gaze went to the sliding door, and for a moment the late afternoon sun intensified through the glass. “Out there?”
“Yes, but—“ And then her own gaze went to her teacup, and the tea-leaves left behind in a telling swirl. She had years of training in tasseomancy, and she could read this message well enough. Fire and water and death.
|Date:||April 6th, 2015 01:08 pm (UTC)|| |
Ominous tea leaves, ooooh! I'm really enjoying this.
Thank you thank you! And a happy rest of Monday to you, A.
|Date:||April 6th, 2015 02:15 pm (UTC)|| |
Thank you, mate! Happy almost-Tuesday. :)
Love all the parts so far, can't wait for the next piece.
Thank you thank you, T, and a good evening to you!
You do know how to leave a cliff hanger, m' dear!
I try. [drops a curtsey]
[sends hugs] Thanks, ALH!
More and more intriguing!
Thank you! And a cheerful Monday evening to you!
Bees know things, they should be paid attention to...
I believe that. [nods]
Thanks and hugs!
The intrigue is increasing. Or something.
Thank you! We aim to increase intrigue. :)