[IC] Tea-time with the character above you ☕

Posted 3 years, 4 months ago (Edited 3 years, 3 months ago) by fizzelston

Another thread by Fizz?
You've guessed it. Your oc shares a nice cup of tea/coffee/warm beverage with the character above them.
Do they spill the tea? Do they spit in each other's mugs? Share biscuits? Go wild, go stupid, as it is tea time binches!

Rules are simple:

  • You don't have to describe every movement,sip, but put some afford in it. 3 sentences minimum. 
  • Please no NSFW or violent stuff. If you really want to go dark please black it out. Like this! 
  •  You can post again after 2 replies, or if 12 hours have passed. 
  • Please fill in your claim in22hours. I'll try to send you a reminder after ±10 h. We want to keep the game flowing!  If you fail to do so your post getsskipped.
Examples:
Character 1: Oh boy i'm first
Character 2: God, you have an awful taste in tea dear. Mint tea? Are you for real. Jeez.
Character 3: I don't think I have any sugar but I got some sweeteners. I know those aren't the same as sugar but.. It's sweet. Hence the name haha.

Want to order some overpriced coffee instead? Click this link

first poster gets a freebie. 
Kagemitsu Hikage bizzaregameguy

kishael  tadaa! (I'd be glad for a follow-up!)

   Kagemitsu happily welcomed to his rather guest to his house. "Yo there! You must be Yngvar, come on in!", said Kage in an outgoing manner. Kage guided Yngvar around his house, the latter still wondering how the overweight cat knew his name.

     "You know me?" asked Yngvar, confused about how Kagemitsu knew him at first glance. "Oh, I haven't properly introduced myself!", Kagemitsu said apologetically, "I'm Kagemitsu, but you can call me Kage for short!"

    The overweight cat then took his foreign guest into his personal tea ceremony room. "Feel free to sit down while I prepare us some tea." said Kagemitsu. Yngvar sat down on the tatami covered floor near Kage's equipment. He watched as the cat calmly cleaned the wooden cups and utensils with an orange cloth. Kagemitsu then scooped up some green tea powder from a wooden lid into both his and Yngvar's cups. "Almost done!", Kage said as he poured boiling water and mixed the powder with a tea whisk.

    "Here ya go, it's matcha tea!" said Kagemitsu offering the tea to his guest. Yngvar responded "Ooh, that's pretty good!" The overweight cat then looked at Yngvar eagerly, "So tell me a bit more about yourself, I hear you used to be part of a band, err.. what was it called again?"

"Serpent Of Sorrow?" replied Yngvar. Kagemitsu snapped his fingers "Yea! I listen to random music of different artists from time-to-time, but your music, the dark themes are white I like the most about them!" Yngvar happily looked at Kage "Thanks! I'm glad you like my music." Kage replied "You're welcome!"

The two both continued to drink matcha tea and discuss their lifestyles.



NP: Kagemitsu has a very strong liking for tea of any kind, but he likes hot tea the most, especially matcha and oolong tea. Feel free to add anything to make the tea more flavorful! (Feel free to ping me for a follow up if you'd like)

This post has been removed.
Roswell van Breek fizzelston

Roswell leaned back in his chair and observed the small tea shop. A damped place, hardly lit and full of shadows. The thief stirred his spoon in his oolong tea, planted his elbow on the table and rested his head in his hand. He smiled.
"Kagemitsu, roi?" He asked. Butchering the cat's name with his heavy accent. "Oi've heard plenty of yer. Actually oi'm honored dat you could meet me. Here," he said. Roswell's lone eye darted through the small tea shop again before turning his focus back at the cat.
"Oi'm lookin' for sumeone dat can do some work. Sum esotericism. Magic," he explained. "Shadow manipulation to be exact," Roswell said.
He finally paused his continuously stirring, leaned back once more and poured some honey in the tea. "Oi've never had did tea before," he muttered.
"But yer seem to loike it."

Roswell shook his head as to rid himself from that topic. "What oim proposing, beside me opinion about oolong, is dis." Roswell set down his tea-cup. He plucked a small piece of paper out of his jacket and folded it out on the table between them. On it was a sketch of a house. No. A mansion. With it's different layers of floors and chambers, some of them marked with a red X.
"Oi want to steal," Roswell said. Honest and clear. "And oi need sum.. Shadows to back me up. Hide me from de eyes of de city watch, help me getting into rooms oi," he tapped a particular one with his finger "can't open. Surely oi would pay for yer service. 50/50 a clear split," he said. Then rolled up the paper again, picked up his tea. As if nothing had happened.

"Yer can buy as much tea dat yer loike with dat kind of money."

--

Check out my tea

It was a cold afternoon. Roswell removed the hood from his head and rubbed the rain out of his hair. He was soaked.
Everything was soaked to its core. Roswell set down his duffle bag, as he quietly slipped into the Old Chapel. Only the gaslights were on. Painting the king corridors and high ceilings of the building in green and shadow. Roswell plucked a cigarette from his jacket, took a step into his office direction when something caught his eye. Green. Roswell looked up. The quietness of the Chapel started to feel off. No sound of Krakers. No sound of the gaslight, not the kitchen. He was alone. With this green substance. He knelt down. He poked it with his finger. Smeared it.
 Warm.
The hairs in Roswell's neck raised. His hand reached for his krsm as he got up again. The rain started again. Roswell used the loud noises of thunder to mask his breathing. He crept from shadow to shadows until he ended in front of his own office door. Roswell held his breath. Then opened its door with his shoulder.

Roswell's breath escaped him, he started at the figure and for a split second he thought it was Salvador. But it was a real imp. A shadowy-figure not from here. Roswell's fingers curled around his kram's handle.
"Welvaren," he greeted. A common Krettwick greeting, a neutral one. A smile, as treacherous as an iced over lake, crept on his face.
"Oi hate de rain," he admitted. His fingers eased visibly. Roswell let go of his weapon as he approached the stranger in his chair. "It makes rooftops slippery, her fingers cold. Numb. Thieves rely on dose, did yer know," he said. Roswell somehow knew playing the 'charity-man' act wouldn't last long. They seem to know who he was. There was no need in pretending.
"De cityguard is brave. But stupid. I got a sewing needle and thread, if her koind can have stitches," he said.

Roswell laughed. Then nodded. "Oi hope yer didn't foind me stach of earl grey in me desk. Oi tried to svae it for special occasions." He paused. "Yer interested in a cup earl grey?"

This user is not visible to guests.
This user's account has been closed.
This user's post has been blocked from this thread.
 Valerion confusedthing

When Dolores told him to take a break she could at least do the same, right? Tea was better with company anyway and she looked like she too could use a moment to breathe.

So now he sat across the elderly woman, a small table between them. By now the baklava had arrived and been placed on top of the table, along with a can of earl grey tea, two cups, honey, nectar, sugar, milk and whatever other things people could possibly want in their tea. Valerion himself usually drank it without anything but since he was not alone the options were available to Dolores. 

"Please, just take whatever you like." the prince said, before taking a sip of his tea. He had the habit to put his legs on the chair as well when not in official meetings because for some reason he just found it more comfortable, so that was what he was doing right now as well. What a practical thing that elves just weren't giants, even compared to their own furniture, so it did actually look at least like an okay thing to do and not too awkward. 

"Are you alright here?" the prince asked Dolores. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask." He always wanted to make sure guests were comfortable when visiting the palace, it was just common courtesy, really. (At least in his opinion.) "I'm afraid it is rather cold here, compared to other places... is your hometown much warmer? How is it like? If you don't mind talking about it." 

Maybe Valerion had been cooped up in his office for too long but he really liked to hear stories about other places these days. Or even just descriptions... anything that was not nobility sending letter after letter to complain about having to pay their staff, really. How could people...? He would not get into that right now. Instead he would listen to Dolores, if she felt like talking, drink his tea and have some baklava. That surely was a good plan for the 'ordered' break, right?


Sorry it took me ages xx

It was odd to not see a sky covered in stars, like he was used to. But it certainly was interesting. Were the reasons for this phenomenon known, he wondered. Apart from the weather, of course. That made it impossible to see anything, after all. Sometimes he thought of his brother, if he had seen similar things on his travels or if he led an entirely different life while he was away... He had a feeling Lior would not tell him about evenings like this one, even if he had attended them. Gods, why was he even thinking about this? Even though he did not say anything and certainly did not ignore Xander he felt rude.
Valerion looked back at the singer and nodded, before his brain actually processed what had just been said. "Thank you." he added, before taking one of the pastries, turning it in his hand for a moment, to inspect it further. Food in different places was really interesting, and a good distraction as well. "It does look different than the honey I know from back home." he agreed, before taking a bite of his pastry. He had tried similar treats before, but the honey did give it a unique taste he found himself enjoying.

"I agree." the prince nodded, offering Xander a brief smile. "Don't worry about it, I don't think anyone will judge you on your pronunciation of 'baklava' - at least I won't." People who did that were really just petty, weren't they?
"I'm sure I can." he answered the question regarding the recipe, before continuing to listen to Xander. Even when he was talking the man had a pleasant voice, almost soothing. Or maybe Valerion was just weird, that was very much possible.
"You may." Valerion chuckled inaudibly, "It is a lovely feast." the prince replied, his tone polite as ever, though he was grateful that Xander actually asked other questions, since he always found it difficult to say a lot about how he liked a festivity. They were nice, he was just not poetic enough to express it in a way that sounded as pleasant as it probably should. "It is quite different, but that makes it all the more interesting. The festivities at home are either very strict and political or, well, I suppose almost the exact opposite. We may be known for cold climate and an even colder royal family", he absolutely made fun of himself there, though one probably could not tell since his voice didn't change, "but the celebrations are rather lively and bright. Especially the ones around spring." When asked about the tea he had to think for a moment, trying to find the right translation. "We mostly have black tea, sometimes with bergamot (aka Earl Grey), although we do also have lavender and verbena tea. Separately or combined." he explained. "Not much grows in a climate that cold, so most things with spices are more an occasional luxury than anything else." Well, considering the current weather maybe Xander was aware of that last part. At least Valerion assumed it was not too different here.

Xander Klingelhof fizzelston

Xander’s breath formed clouds. The few stars that still remained in his world were hidden behind layers of thick grey clouds. Snow caked the railing and table. The balcony was quiet that evening. While the rest of the party took place downstairs or in the gardens, the balcony looked over, Xander made himself comfortable in his chair. He stared at the snowed-over garden, before focussing his gaze back on the person sitting across from him. Valerion. Prince Valerion.
“You should try the pastries, sir,” Xander said. As he carefully shoved the plate towards the other party. Fresh fig pastries with goat cheese and honey. Similar to baklava in some ways. Though the cheese gave it a creamy bite.
“They are a local treat. The honey we have here is thicker than most,” Xander explained. “It’s darker too, or so I’ve heard,” he said. As he dumped a spoon full of the stuff in his rosehip tea. “It has molasses-like traits as well.”

Xander blew over his cup. Then eyed the garden again. He’d seemed to be lost in thought for a moment, before smiling.
“There is always something fascinating for me, about the differences in culture and cuisines,” he said. “I’ve heard you liked bak-leva, sir. Oh,” pause. “Pardon me if I mispronounced that,” he quickly added.
 “Maybe you can share the recipe with me, sir, if that’s not a big burden,” he said. Xander adjusted his glasses. “I’m quite the baker myself. If I may be so brash,” he said. With his laughter audible in his voice. “I didn’t make these treats though, no, sir. I’m pretty sure the maiden of the host did that,” he said. The singer shook his head.
“What do you think about the Krettwick-feasts? Sir? Is it different from the parties you attempt at home, sir? If I may be so bold to ask, of course,” he said. Giving the other a quick smile.
“What kind of tea do they serve? Not rosehip I assume? I’ve heard it’s quiet.. Unpopular outside Krettwick’s borders.” 

Zinkyzor


* shreik wrapped their dainty bony fingers around the tea cup * so, I heard your a musician. That's good, I do some music,  im no good at it however.  I don't understand, how can so many people be so talented?? I can't grasp it, through my bony fingers it slips. I keep hearing practice which is true to a extent. Besides that, * shreiks hairs a mess from them tugging at it * or perhaps it not has deep has I've been lead to believe, infact the answers right infront of me! * shreik grins * help me understand the missing peice to ' practice '?

Ronin Alpha charmingterror

Ronin was too...big, for the seat he was sitting in at the table. He held the cup in one hand, trying hard not to grip it with extreme force and break it out of no patience. Ronin looked at the other person, before trying to drink the tea. It spilled all over him. Ronin stayed silent, setting the cup down and gripping his sword instead. "RONIN NOT USED TO THIS. NOT USED TO SIT AND DRINK." 

Ronin sat up in the chair, bouncing his leg up and down a bit rapidly before looking around. "WHERE ANIMALS? NEED EAT." He spoke quite loudly, before shifting his position to get a rabbit running by, then gave half of it to the other person before eating the rest of it. "SATISFIED!" He gripped another tea cup a bit stronger, throwing the tea down his jaws.

"WE DO MORE? YES?" 

----------------------------------------------------------------------

follow up, spoilering it lolol

Ronin sat up in his chair, adjusting his belt with one hand. "NAME RONIN ALPHA, AM DRIFTER OF GATORS!" He flexed his muscles with his one arm, smiling proudly. "AM SARCO, BIG CROCODILE IN DINO AGE! BIG TALL CROCODILE LIKE ME STRONGER THAN ALL!" He tried standing up, but hit his head on the ceiling before sitting back down. He grabbed his sword from the side, and held it up. 

"THIS SWORD! I USE TO KILL CAUSE I AM BIG STRONG!" He set the sword down to the side and pointed to his bandaged arm. "ARM LOST IN FIGHT." He looked down, clutching his fist tightly. "WAS WORTHY OPPONENT." Ronin unclenched his fist, picking up the cup and opening his jaws, to only dump the tea inside his mouth and set the cup down. "NEVER HAD BEFORE." He smiled a bit, nodding once. "VERY GOOD TASTE! MUST TRY SOME TIME." 

Ronin thought for a second, before pointing to his belt. "BY WAY, BELT WAS AWARD! RONIN WON IN BATTLE AND GOT SCAR!" He shifted a bit, showing his back, where a large scar had been shown that had seemed to be from a large creature, though not as large as Ronin was. He shifted back into his original position. "RONIN VERY STRONG! YOU STRONG TOO!"

This user is not visible to guests.
Maribelle Burnett Vapor

Maribelle liked nothing. She hated joy. Even looking at the tea she poured for the both of them, her reaction to both the cups -- pluming steam -- and the woman she joined was underwhelming. Flat-faced, aside from the slightest curl of her lip. At least the tea smelled nice. It was a herbal formula that she slaved over to bag -- chamomile, lemongrass, and valerian root might have immediately come to mind for some, but there was also a hint of peppermint in the aroma. It actually smelled a bit like fruity dishwater, and it would probably taste like it, too, if Bow decided to take the sugar cubes Maribelle passed over across the table.

"I wish I had actual sweet tea." said Maribelle, as she took her own mug. It was plain, perhaps not as fancy as what Bow preferred, but it did its job. That was all that mattered to the local edgelord. "But, this is fine. It's whatever."

Good job making conversation there, kid.

She stared into her cup for a moment, before setting it aside and instead reaching forward to pluck a sugar cube from the small platter, and then plop it into her tea. That was only one sugar cube out of many, and there soon would not be any cubes at all, if Maribelle failed to control herself. She wasn't best with self-control, unlike Bow, demure and well-mannered, a reminder. Maribelle's gaze remained a bit cold, her dark eyes even narrowing for a moment, before she leaned back with her drink.

"You like fashion." She droned out, struggling to find the exact words she wanted. It seemed like such a long time since she actually partook in such a hobby. She missed it. "It must be nice. You have pretty clothes. Pretty hair, pretty makeup. Lucky you." Gods, that sounded a bit too sarcastic. "..I used to like it. I'm too busy these days."


maribelle, professional bastard [in more ways than one!]

Maribelle cared not for foreigners. It was not the ship or the empress itself that frightened the natives of Milun, after all -- it was the previous isolation, it was the want to stay quiet and hidden and dead to the universe. Sometimes, fear turned to hatred.

Maribelle already hated parties.

Nirva being an interplanetary ruler didn't really save her from any of these facts.

"You're an idiot if you think this place is nice." The teenager said, unafraid. As she spoke, she searched the crowd for her mentor, the old, blonde man who smelled of cheese and coffee breath. "You've seen but the smallest part of it -- that's what the people here want you to see." Then, leaning back with her own cup of tea, provided to her by one of the bumbling and too-nervous servants previously, she scowled.

"My favorite place is in the dirt. Seven feet under. Where it's dark and no one can find me." How nice. "How about you? You like the port? Because that's the only damn place you're ever going to be in, anyway, as far as anyone here is concerned, so you might as well enjoy it."

This user is not visible to guests.
 Justus Bleatjio

Justus, as always, didn't look entirely amused when encountering the Empress. His eyes trailed curiously, though he didn't immediately speak up when he saw her sit at the table with a third party. The way she spoke made him curious, but was it rude to question it? 'Your world is quite nice'? That wasn't the language of a sane person, if he had to make an assumption. She wasn't even talking to him and that made him even more curious about what she was trying to say. Not only that, but she even dressed like she didn't belong here on Earth. What was going on?

As much as he enjoyed social events, he didn't exactly pair up with people at tea parties. Bars, beers, drinking and the occasional spoke was what he was used to handling. Tea time seemed to feminine for his tastes, but the bustling of people surrounding him did make his amiable side peek out with curiosity. Glancing over the people filling the small room with his cup in his grip, the warm beverage nearly causing him to burn himself as the fear of dropping his dish due to carelessness was lingering throughout him, he decided his first target was going to be the person he was eyeballing this entire time: the Empress.

Approaching her with his hooves heavily pressing into the sleek flooring, he moved his dreads away from his face slightly. His dark eyes stared directly at her, his voice hitching with unusual anxiety. An aura he wasn't used to filled with power and determination had him making a double take on her before clearing his throat and nodding his head. "Good afternoon. Mind if I join this little thing here?" He asked, gesturing to the table. Whether or not he was eagerly invited or not wasn't the problem he had as standing was as enjoyable as sitting. Once he got his answer, he invited himself in the next free seat he could find, not wanting to be rude as his thoughts ran in his mind. Gingerly picking up his cup, he brought the hot drink to his lips, blowing softly before taking a sip. His face began to crinkle. Coffee had more life and more of a kick than tea ever would, practically being water that was flavored and not at all carbonated. None of it was bad, but definitely not his kind of taste.

Once he managed to take his gulp down his throat, he sighed, releasing the hot air that build in the back of his throat. His chest softly rose and fell as he wallowed in this new atmosphere, the one of awkwardness and uncertainty of each other's intentions. He was more eager to talk to people than this, but this felt like a different case. She was interesting, he knew that, but he barely knew nothing about the woman and didn't want to overstep any of her boundaries. She was strange to him, commenting about "their world" and the outfit she wore, but she looked as if she knew how to handle herself. His thumb softly brushed against the cup and he narrowed his eyes, his long lopped ears twitching ever so slightly. "I...overheard you before I came over here. You're fascinated by our world?" His eyebrows raised and fell, his head cocking to the left slightly as his eyes lolled around. "Can I ask what that's supposed to mean?"

Ace X. Scholl PicklePantry

     "I'm not really the biggest fan of tea myself, being more into coffee, but it's good to have a palette cleanser now and then," Ace smiled down at Justus as he set down a teacup. The cafe was hosting an event ran by some local artists, it was both a meet and greet and an impromptu gallery, with countless artists coming to show some of their works and, hopefully, earn a commission or some connections. It seemed to be going splendidly, and even though Ace was there more to cater and serve the drinks, he was intrigued by the being that sat alone at the corner booth.
     Down in the booth was a graphic designer by the name of Justus, at least, that's what the other artists explained to the barista. He was talented, just as he was mysterious, yet many of the people that knew him already, even if a little, shared the same opinion: that he was easy to get along with. Maybe he simply liked his alone time?
     Curiosity got the best of the Cupid, and he soon made his way towards him to set down the tea. Seeing the initial reaction, Ace responded with an apologetic smile and commented about it being a fine palette cleanser. "I think with the right herbs and spices it can be just as helpful," he continued to explain. "It can help relax people, or it can wire them up like a cup of coffee." Ace's smile widened a bit. "Tell you what, maybe you and I can sit and talk about some graphic design? Maybe something to spruce up the store? I'll make you all kinds of coffee in return."