Morning!!! Ge had to move quickly, he had beat his alarm by three and one half minutes and he sprung to his feet. The nearly thirteen year old Padawan rushed to gather the ingredients he had….gathered….stupid…The night before. There was the tea leaves, the water and the pan. Master Erril was going to be so surprised and so proud that his new padawan had crafted such a beverage for him. Quickly Arty placed the pan over the fire and poured the water in. He paused and looked at the loose leaf tea and questioned how much should go in. He put his finger to his mouth in deep thought.
It must be one serving in the tin. It has to be! Without further thought Arty popped the top off the tin and dumped the entire contents of the tea into the water.
He stared.
And stared
And stared!!!!
“Boil!!”
Finally the water staryed to boil and he watched the water turn a thick black. After two minutes he removed the pan from the water and poured it’s contents…leaves and all into a giant mug for Erril just as he heard his Master coming
“Good morning Master! I made tea for you.”
To Tea or Not To Tea?
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Erril Winterhold
- Posts: 76
- Joined: Wed Jan 01, 2020 7:22 pm
Re: To Tea or Not To Tea?
The alarm was very quiet when it went off, just a soft clicking sound akin to a deck of cards being shuffled slowly. It hardly even registered in Erril's conscious mind anymore when it went off, which left the entirety of his mental facilities free to process the unfolding event in increments as he came awake.
Most sephi became aware of smells in the air first when they woke, but even if he'd been fully human he'd still have been keenly aware of the scent hanging heavily in the air. Green Tea leaves - Chandrilan in fact - and the zesty tropical tinge of the common but oh-so-elegant orange blossom. Only, there was nothing elegant or tropical about the virtual smog of odor hanging in the air. It was a stifling and cumbersome smell, and the citrusy aspects of it manifested in an acrid posture that reminded him more of the tannins in black coffee than the essential oils of any fruit. His first instinct might have been genuine concern, except that he was intimately familiar with that particular aromatic combination.
Erril sat straight up and looked around. The night before, they had pared their speeder and set up camp at the base of a small dune, but they had bedded down for the night a small distance away to avoid unwelcome attention as they slept. And at this distance, not being able to see the actual blazes of the fire, Erril could smell the tragedy unfolding over it.
Rising quickly, Erril stuffed the click-alarm in his pack, shook the sand off his cloak, and strode down the dune toward the fire and his Padawan. The scent became even stronger when he drew near, and while it was hardly debilitating, it was certainly depressing. Arty offered him a mug of tea with all the enthusiasm appropriate to a burgeoning officionado. The problem was, Erril hadn't taught him anything yet; the boy had only been his padawan for three weeks.
Reaching down, Erril accepted the the cup from Arty with a grateful smile and cast an appraising glance over the cook fire situation; his eyes lingered on the suspiciously empty canister for a moment before returning to the delighted young padawan and his cup of witch's brew.
Holding the cup to his face, Erril steeled himself and breathed in the vapors at point blank, then nodded thoughtfully like Master Jray might have. This moment was an unfortunate tragedy, easily in the same league as many others that had unfolded on the sands of the dune sea, but if he was to prevent it from being the first of many, he had to keep his calm. Now was the moment to be... magnanimous.
"I had no idea you might be an aspiring tea enthusiast, young man." The snowy-haired Jedi sat down in the sand next to his student. He took a sip of the hot beverage, and forced his features to remain serene as the bitter, acidic tannins rolled across the back of his tongue.
"Mm... not bad at all! Let's see what's going on here in the pot."
Erril took the small pot from the cook fire and swirled it beneath his gaze, silently mourning the lost tea blend. But future generations were at stake, and he had to remain composed.
Take one for the team
"Ahh, you've brewed it nice strong. I'm honestly not accustomed to making tea for others anymore, I'll have account for your human tastebuds next time its my turn."
Forcing himself to take another sip, Erril rose back up to his feat. "However, for this desert trek I think you might be onto something. Do you like the cold-brewed teas from Instramta? I think IntramTea and Phaedra are the big name brands."
Most sephi became aware of smells in the air first when they woke, but even if he'd been fully human he'd still have been keenly aware of the scent hanging heavily in the air. Green Tea leaves - Chandrilan in fact - and the zesty tropical tinge of the common but oh-so-elegant orange blossom. Only, there was nothing elegant or tropical about the virtual smog of odor hanging in the air. It was a stifling and cumbersome smell, and the citrusy aspects of it manifested in an acrid posture that reminded him more of the tannins in black coffee than the essential oils of any fruit. His first instinct might have been genuine concern, except that he was intimately familiar with that particular aromatic combination.
Erril sat straight up and looked around. The night before, they had pared their speeder and set up camp at the base of a small dune, but they had bedded down for the night a small distance away to avoid unwelcome attention as they slept. And at this distance, not being able to see the actual blazes of the fire, Erril could smell the tragedy unfolding over it.
Rising quickly, Erril stuffed the click-alarm in his pack, shook the sand off his cloak, and strode down the dune toward the fire and his Padawan. The scent became even stronger when he drew near, and while it was hardly debilitating, it was certainly depressing. Arty offered him a mug of tea with all the enthusiasm appropriate to a burgeoning officionado. The problem was, Erril hadn't taught him anything yet; the boy had only been his padawan for three weeks.
Reaching down, Erril accepted the the cup from Arty with a grateful smile and cast an appraising glance over the cook fire situation; his eyes lingered on the suspiciously empty canister for a moment before returning to the delighted young padawan and his cup of witch's brew.
Holding the cup to his face, Erril steeled himself and breathed in the vapors at point blank, then nodded thoughtfully like Master Jray might have. This moment was an unfortunate tragedy, easily in the same league as many others that had unfolded on the sands of the dune sea, but if he was to prevent it from being the first of many, he had to keep his calm. Now was the moment to be... magnanimous.
"I had no idea you might be an aspiring tea enthusiast, young man." The snowy-haired Jedi sat down in the sand next to his student. He took a sip of the hot beverage, and forced his features to remain serene as the bitter, acidic tannins rolled across the back of his tongue.
"Mm... not bad at all! Let's see what's going on here in the pot."
Erril took the small pot from the cook fire and swirled it beneath his gaze, silently mourning the lost tea blend. But future generations were at stake, and he had to remain composed.
Take one for the team
"Ahh, you've brewed it nice strong. I'm honestly not accustomed to making tea for others anymore, I'll have account for your human tastebuds next time its my turn."
Forcing himself to take another sip, Erril rose back up to his feat. "However, for this desert trek I think you might be onto something. Do you like the cold-brewed teas from Instramta? I think IntramTea and Phaedra are the big name brands."
The Force is my ally, in the quiet times and the trials. The Force is my ally. I will not falter.