Tea [open!]
WHO: Zexion and anyone else; especially people who like tea.
WHAT: Teatime and mayyybe plotting >D
WHERE: Moonflower Teas; a small but well-appointed teashop on Temple Street.
WHEN: Around 3:00 in the afternoon.
NOTES: If Plotting begins to happen, said plotters should retreat to some back-corner of the room.
There were several rules by which Zexion regulated his life. There were many of these, and some made little sense to anyone who did not know him intimately (which meant to almost everyone) - to use truth whenever possible (an odd rule for one so prone to scheming); to always use words before weapons; among other things.
One of these rules was this: that when the chips were down, it was time for a nice cup of tea.
Granted, it was always time for a nice cup of tea; but especially so when the chips were down. This rule even Ienzo had held, and it was one of the many tiny fragments of his former life that Zexion did not admit to but refused to release.
He made a mental checklist: there had been kidnappings (not that he cared all THAT much); he was plotting the death of a former comerade whom, up until six days ago (had it really been that short a time?) he had trusted; and he was embroiled in multiple schemes to discover the secrets behind this mysterious place.
not to mention the ever-present aspiration of getting a heart. Which he hoped he could continue to persue even here (there HAD to be another way. Had to. Must. He could not be left like this; not now, not so close...)
Yes. It was clearly time for tea.
On his first day he had been fortunate enough to stumble into the place - a deceptively small locale on Temple Street - so named for the bits of ruins that the buildings had been built overtop of and around. Moonflower Teas happened to be built partly into the husk of one of the temple buildings - thick stones made up two walls, and a mosaic graced the back wall behind the counter. Said mosaic showed beautiful moonflowers - and indeed, moonflower vines climbed over the wall from outside, sneaking into the shop. The owners allowed it because of the unique atmosphere it gave.
The place offered the usual teashop items - various small sandwiches and soups, fresh fruits (ubiquitous in Rivelata due to the tropical climate), pastries and, of course, the finest tea in the entire city. Not that anyone KNEW - most stopped instead at a larger place nearer to the palace, but Zexion found the tea there rather bland, not to mention the place was far more crowded.
One entire wall was lined with tins of tea, and one could ask for any tea one so desired - today, Zexion requested a blend of Earl Grey with Lavender, then a plate of shortbread cookies. That done, he retired to a comfortable corner chair by the window and wished that he had a nice novel to read - books, however, seemed a rarity in this place.
The sky was slightly clouded today, which meant that for once, the air was cool - a slight breeze brought promise of rain, and he could smell forest even here. Distracted, he simply gazed at the clouds outside the window and wondered, not for the first time, why he was still alive.
WHAT: Teatime and mayyybe plotting >D
WHERE: Moonflower Teas; a small but well-appointed teashop on Temple Street.
WHEN: Around 3:00 in the afternoon.
NOTES: If Plotting begins to happen, said plotters should retreat to some back-corner of the room.
There were several rules by which Zexion regulated his life. There were many of these, and some made little sense to anyone who did not know him intimately (which meant to almost everyone) - to use truth whenever possible (an odd rule for one so prone to scheming); to always use words before weapons; among other things.
One of these rules was this: that when the chips were down, it was time for a nice cup of tea.
Granted, it was always time for a nice cup of tea; but especially so when the chips were down. This rule even Ienzo had held, and it was one of the many tiny fragments of his former life that Zexion did not admit to but refused to release.
He made a mental checklist: there had been kidnappings (not that he cared all THAT much); he was plotting the death of a former comerade whom, up until six days ago (had it really been that short a time?) he had trusted; and he was embroiled in multiple schemes to discover the secrets behind this mysterious place.
not to mention the ever-present aspiration of getting a heart. Which he hoped he could continue to persue even here (there HAD to be another way. Had to. Must. He could not be left like this; not now, not so close...)
Yes. It was clearly time for tea.
On his first day he had been fortunate enough to stumble into the place - a deceptively small locale on Temple Street - so named for the bits of ruins that the buildings had been built overtop of and around. Moonflower Teas happened to be built partly into the husk of one of the temple buildings - thick stones made up two walls, and a mosaic graced the back wall behind the counter. Said mosaic showed beautiful moonflowers - and indeed, moonflower vines climbed over the wall from outside, sneaking into the shop. The owners allowed it because of the unique atmosphere it gave.
The place offered the usual teashop items - various small sandwiches and soups, fresh fruits (ubiquitous in Rivelata due to the tropical climate), pastries and, of course, the finest tea in the entire city. Not that anyone KNEW - most stopped instead at a larger place nearer to the palace, but Zexion found the tea there rather bland, not to mention the place was far more crowded.
One entire wall was lined with tins of tea, and one could ask for any tea one so desired - today, Zexion requested a blend of Earl Grey with Lavender, then a plate of shortbread cookies. That done, he retired to a comfortable corner chair by the window and wished that he had a nice novel to read - books, however, seemed a rarity in this place.
The sky was slightly clouded today, which meant that for once, the air was cool - a slight breeze brought promise of rain, and he could smell forest even here. Distracted, he simply gazed at the clouds outside the window and wondered, not for the first time, why he was still alive.