Welcome to Gaia! ::

Hawthorn looked over the heads of the small but growing members of the Tea Ceremony Club. One of them hadn't showed up. He glanced at the clock steadily ticking on the wall. He absolutely hated starting things late, but there was an empty chair, and the more faithful members had prepared enough nibbles and settings for the six attendees they had planned for. How exceptionally rude! A week of planning and collaborative effort and now, to not even send a note of withdrawal? It never occurred to the Litch that something untoward may have happened. Nothing, in his eyes, excused this lapse of consideration and etiquette.

His ire setting his cheek to twitching, Hawthorn strode out into the hallway to see if he could man-handle an innocent bystander into taking up the vacant chair. He'd be damned before he let properly delicate settings go to waste.

"Excuse me! You there!" He called out to a Litch lounging by the window across the hall. "A moment of your time, if you please?"

As the boy responded, climbing down from his perch and drawing closer, Hawthorn silently evaluated this candidate. He was trim, tidy for what he had to work with. The half-lidded eyes showed a languor that at least wouldn't lead to a disruptive guest. The idle twitching of tail belied a hidden observation that the rest of the outward appearance hid quite well.

Beggars couldn't be choosers, either. Hawthorn swiftly consulted his pocket watch as the other closed the distance, the chain glittering against the charcoal flannel of his pristine suit. Looking up again he offered a polite smile and offered a hand in greeting.

"Hawthorn," he greeted formally. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance. I wonder," he continued on hastily, more from necessity than from personal inclination. "...If you might not be willing to do me a great favour. I know this is untoward, and rather forward, but--needs must and time is short--I find myself on the precipice of a rather keen embarrassment." He paused for breath, eyeing the other's face, hoping to glean some indication of his temperament. "I run a little club, you see, and one of our members has declined to show. Would you perhaps consider filling the seat so that our numbers are satisfied? There's food and drink for your pains..." He leaned forward slightly, his diminutive height forcing him to tilt his face up towards the stranger. He was trying to not hold his breath in anticipation, but that only made him all the more painfully conscious of breathing at all.

The young man had agreed! All of the tightly-wound tension in Hawthorn melted away in a heatbeat, and he returned to his natural state of focus and control. He gave a charming bow and reached out to shake Thanatos' hand once again.

"Excellent," he said, his whole countenance set with an almost pearly glow of satisfaction. Stepping to one side so that he was no longer blocking the door, he swept a hand to indicate the small cluster of tables and chairs where the other members were meekly sitting and waiting, one girl fretting over the boiling kettle. "Welcome to the Tea Ceremony Club!" Hawthorn paused, blinking up at his companion quizzically. "Terribly sorry, where are my manners. What is your name?" he asked belatedly.

If Hawthorn was to perform the proper introductions, he very well ought to know the newcomer's name. Once that precursory bit of business was tended to, the rest of the meeting could be had in peace and tranquility, and who knew, perhaps if things went well, this Litch might deem to join them again in the future.

"Thanatos, welcome." Hawthorn kept with the long name, in part because he enjoyed the majesty of it, and largely because he'd just met the young man, and jumping straight to monikers felt improperly intimate. Gently leading his guest into the room, Hawthorn allowed them both a slow pace so that the newcomer could get his bearings. There were only five members of the club present, and Hawthorn swept through their names with an elegant and practised air: "Everyone, this is Thanatos, he'll be joining us today for the Dryad Tea Ceremony." So saying he steered Thanatos to the vacant place setting with a barely-there touch on his arm that hid a firm control. Moving away, he joined the flustered Litch girl at the kettle station and gave a nod allowing her to sit down, with a murmured, "Thank you, Pearl." He swiftly took the kettle off the base and swirled it slowly and carefully to let off some of the steam of its over-boiling that had happened while he was endeavouring to entice Thanatos in.

"This tea club comes together once a week to enjoy one another's offerings, company, and love of etiquette." Hawthorn's voice had a naturally husky tone to it that he'd possessed since his earliest Freshling speech. When he raised his voice, as he did now to project across the table to all the seated members, it took on an unintentionally sultry quality that he was wholly deaf to. He turned smartly on his heels to pour the water into the waiting samovar, explaining all the while as he prepared the service. "Each week, we focus on a different tea culture, rotating through the four great classics of Tea Ceremony: Imp, Bakeneko, Elf, and Dryad. And today, we are enjoying a Dryad service." He closed the lid on the samovar and rolled the trolley over to stand beside the table.

The table itself was a low affair, about knee height, and long and oval, its swirling grain polished to a high shine and decorated around the edge with a dryad leaf motif. Each guest had before them a neatly folded napkin of muslin with a painted leaf on it (Galan's contribution), and a silver pressed spoon that Hawthorn had purchased for these sessions. Silently he moved around the table, setting before each member a glass tumbler chased with silver sitting on a matching saucer. Each had a fresh mint leaf sitting in it. Then he began laying out Dryad Delights on a long platter (Mira's contribution), honeyed oat cakes (his own recipe), and a bowl of home-made rock sugar (one of Pearl's offerings). He paused to offer a benign smile around at them, watching their appraisal and reaction to the finery filling the table between them, like a call to the spirit to embrace culture with every nerve and sense.

Hawthorn saw the slow sway of the tail beneath the chair legs and allowed himself a private smile of satisfaction. He caught Thanatos' eye unintentionally and schooled his features to a more professional reserve, standing up straight and fiddling with the valves of the samovar.

"Dryad Tea Ceremony is intended as a lubricant to treaties, agreements, peace, news, and social occasions. The brewing of the leaf draws in the senses: scent, sight, touch, taste, and--with the bubbling of the samovar--" He paused so they could all enjoy the burbling of the lacquered brass contraption. "Even sound. By drawing the senses in to a singular purpose, the whole of one's body and soul is rendered present. This experience is shared between the guests, and by starting at this commonality, it is Dryad belief that common ground can be found in any item brought to the table. Today, we have no treaties to sign, but we can share news. Feel free to offer as much or as little as you feel comfortable with as we begin the sharing. Once your tea is poured, you may sweeten your tea with sugar as you like. Dryad tea is brewed notoriously strong and bitter, in order to better bring out the qualities in the fresh mint and render the glorious ruby colour. Hence, it is served with accompanying sweets and mild treats as well."

He opened the cooler on the bottom of the trolley and drew out fresh goat's yogourt with a slightly smoky and savoury za'tahr seasoning on the side. These he set onto serving plates with plain, still-warm Dryad crepes - thicker and chewier than the more popular Fallen variety. As he rolled the trolley to each seat, he set this dish before each guest, and as the guests were arranging the settings to their comfort, he was lifting each cup and filling it with the steaming ruby tea.

At last he ended at Thanatos' side, offering his dishes and filling his cup before laying down his own portions. Then he neatly took his seat beside him, one claw deftly unbuttoning his blazer as he sat so as not to crease his suit. He offered a subdued smile to the Tea Ceremony Club and clasped his hands over his plate. "Please enjoy!"

Hawthorn took a single spoon of the rock sugar and swirled it into his tea, the crystals dissolving with a viscous shimmer, the mint wilting and floating in the red liquid, he inhaled the mingling scent. As he let this cool, he served himself a honey cake onto his side plate, and a single piece of Dryad Delight. He paused to assist Cain with his, as two of the Delights were stuck together, and with the added help of the serving tongs in Hawthorn's studied hand, the pieces peeled apart so that Cain could serve himself.

Then Hawthorn returned to his own plate, sprinkling za'tahr in his yogourt and dabbing a dollop onto his crepe and cutting off a piece to eat. As he munched, he stole a glance at Thanatos and caught the disappointed pinch to the mouth. Seeing the yet-dry spoon, his guest had not added any sugar. Perhaps it was too bitter?

Leaning discreetly towards Thanatos, Hawthorn asked under his breath, voice huskier than ever, "Do you not care for the flavour, Thanatos? Is it too bitter?"

Hawthorn paused as Thanatos gave his first answer. It seemed there was more to it. It wasn't that the sentiment didn't come out as genuine...but more so that it was more complicated than words could express. Intriguing

Hawthorn eyed the tea and thought over the concept of 'unpalatable to others'. "Does the type of flavour matter? Sweet or savoury? I have more of the seasonings on the trolley if you need more..." He thought of what else he could do to heighten the flavour. Then, without even asking the other, he grabbed a Dryad Delight with the tongs and plopped it into his tea. Oh dear, probably should have asked him if that was alright... Hawthorn met Thanatos' eyes again with an expression half of apology and have of encouragement. "Hopefully that helps..." he added softly.