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Colour of Tea Tasted: Dark Red
Description: Rage, revenge and hatred, swilled with an unhealthy thirst for blood.

Your commentary on its flavour: The bitter liquid left a name on his lips, but Loffie didn't recognize it, the word as foreign to him as the scene that played along with it. The anger of the tea's aftertaste made him recoil, cowering at the intensity of it. He stared at the empty cup apprehensively, not sure what to think. He understood not being fond of others, to a point, but never could he have imagined acting on it in such a ferocious way, couldn't tearing into the flesh of another with such satisfying pleasure.

"I will rip out your ******** heart, and you'll beg."

It frightened him, and, clutching his chest, Loffie anxiously placed the cup back onto the table, withering away with his tail tucked between his legs.

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Colour of Tea Tasted: Dark Blue
Description: Hopelessness and anguish, and sadness mixed with a strong flavor of guilt.

Your commentary on its flavour: He sipped at the tea, and grimaced; it was an altogether much too familiar blend. Loffie set the cup down with disdain, stepping back from the table. Simply because he knew the feeling wasn't enough to be sympathetic to its maker and instead of empathy, he felt only anxiousness for the memory bearer's situation, the thought of himself in such a predicament sending his heart into a panic.

He considered the memory as he slunk away, of losing friends that one loved, and he relented a little, thinking perhaps he felt maybe a little bit sorry for the person. Just a little.

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Colour of Tea Tasted: Dark Goldenrod
Description: Agreeable at first but quickly overshadowed by anxiety and selfishness, and a bitter aftertaste of regret.

Your commentary on its flavour: It started with a lovingly pleasant flavor that warmed Loffie right to the core. But as liquid swirled over his taste buds, its essence changed, stronger, urgent. Loffie could understand Otto’s questions, his hurt. But as bystander, all the wrongs were apparent, and the path the memory was going to take predictable. The yelling only grew louder, and the taste of the tea more foul, and Loffie nearly spit it by the time the end of the memory unfolded, the taste of regret and self-hate harsh on his tongue.

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Colour of Tea Tasted: Magenta
Description: The flavor of the tea had been meticulously blended yet it reeked of the unpolished touch of an amateur, the final notes of it uncertain and cringing.

Your commentary on its flavour: Loffie had no idea of what to make of this tea, nor the accompanying vision. The flavor was bold, calculated, like the girl as she stood determined over her patient, knife ready to make the first incision. But unlike the little girl, Loffie found himself making much the same expression as the boy, horrified but unable to stop the tastes from swirling around his mouth or to turn his eyes from the scene. It was as though an invisible rope held his own arms tightly, and by the time the thing was done, he was glad to put the cup down, nearly throwing it back at the table.

It wasn't the cutting that bother him, or the bright splash of blood. It had been the fact that she was doing it to someone else, and the fact that that had not seemed to bother her in the slightest, that upset him, that made his stomach feel queasy. Loffie stumbled away, wrinkling his nose unhappily.

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Colour of Tea Tasted: Dark Red
Description: A building flavor of suspense, chilling and gripping until the big finale of absolute horror.

Your commentary on its flavour: Immediately he found himself gripped tightly, the awful liquid holding him there with dread, his feet unable to move, unable to run away, stuck with the dreamer in the darkness, stuck waiting to meet their fate. And when the fate finally arrived, black clawed and shadowed, Loffie splutters, coughing on the drink as the crack of bone pierced his ears over and over. He couldn't even cover his ears, the teacup weighing heavily, ominously in his hand. There was only pain, and fear, and then everything was drifting away, ebbing away like the blood-stained sand into the water, until finally everything faded to black.

With a shaky arm, Loffie returned the cup to the table. He left, silent.

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Colour of Tea Tasted: Grey
Description: The taste isn't bitter, but sad, a pathetic flavor that only grows stronger with each sip.

Your commentary on its flavour: The memory is cold, the first, Loffie notes, to maintain an atmosphere similar to that of the garden. But there is nothing pleasant about the meagre room, its walls pockmarked and ugly, its occupants weary and the entire thing reeking an awful stench that made Loffie's nose curl. The man was many things, a liar, a smoker, a father but most of all he was ashamed and Loffie didn't understand it, couldn't understand why he didn't listen to what others had said, why he didn't try to cure his sickness. Finishing the last few drops of tea, Loffie's felt ashamed for the man, but also for himself, for judging him, for assuming he knew the whole story.

He didn't like it. He didn't like being made to care for people. Tea was dumb.

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Colour of Tea Tasted: Dark Red
Description: A tea brewed strongly with anxiousness, blended with cloves desperation and the scent of fear. It has an altogether artificial, metallic taste.

Your commentary on its flavour: The tea poured past Loffie's lips but it is the interface of the memory that overwhelms him more than anything else. It's a computer, a large one, blinking, its robotic insides churning loudly as it booted up. Loffie didn't like it, and he cringed at the drink sloshing in his mouth, his paranoia growing. The feeling only grew with each line of text that flashed across the screen until finally the door slammed, jolting Loffie from his frantic reading, and making him jump. The teacup fell from his hands with a frightened squeak, breaking into pieces as it hit the ground.

And on the ground it stayed, Loffie having fled in panic the moment the memory had ended.

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Colour of Tea Tasted: Magenta
Description: A tea that was hopeful and determined at first, only to balk in the middle, its taste choking, numbing the inside of one's mouth.

Your commentary on its flavour: Loffie had long given up on being hopeful as far as tea was concerned and this time was no different. The girl in the memory was hopeful, and determined, the flavour of the memory heady with excitement. All Loffie could do was cringe. He knew what was coming, and he didn't want to see it, didn't want to be subjected to it. He glared at the girl in the memory, as if she had did this to him, as if she would have any idea that he was glaring at her. But the scene that played out, though similar in content, was entirely different in context. Loffie stood there, stunned. His expression was blank, and he smacked his lips, trying to get the feeling back into his mouth but everything was numbed by the intense feeling of betrayal, of hurt so great there was nothing to do but fall apart into nothingness.

Quietly he set the cup down, unable to even muster a glare at it. He couldn't believe it - he felt sorry for her.

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Colour of Tea Tasted: Light Jade
Description: Warm and adoring, the tea bubbled with happiness, pleasantly enveloping one's taste buds like a loving hug.

Your commentary on its flavour: After all the misery he'd tasted, Loffie drank the tea quickly gulping it down in nearly one swig and hoping its kind aroma would turn things around. It was delicious, it made him feel protected, just like the little infant in the memory, protected by Kajika. But the feelings of joy and affection were just as overpowering as those of fear and horror had been and Loffie set the cup down with unease, feeling dizzy.

He had almost let himself like this one, but his eyes narrowed suspiciously at the kettle sitting on the table, glaring. There wasn't happiness here, only the will to survive against hopelessness. He was onto you, tea.

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Colour of Tea Tasted: Grey
Description: An chilled taste of foreboding punishment, mixed with anguish and regret, of a simple desire to help gone horribly, horribly wrong.

Your commentary on its flavour: Loffie savoured the tea's bitterness, the liquid sliding coolly down his through, icing over his core. It wasn't sweet, it wasn't happy. It was terrible and it just right. He listened as the memory explained, attention caught by the story with the same anxiouness and apprehension as the memory-bearer. The sadness of disappointing others clutched at his heartstrings, trying to drag him down into sympathy for the creature but Loffie refused, not understanding why Merop would have gone to such lengths to help the others, to belong with them. Trusting anyone other than one's self always ended in misery. Yet he couldn't refuse a knowing feeling that crept into his bones, the dejectedness and fear of losing one's self with no hopes of reclaiming what once was, of being forced to live as punishment, when death's final kiss would be so much sweeter. That he understood, and he returned the cup to the table, nodding his head respectfully at the pot before departing.

Finally, a flavor that had made at least a little sense.

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