Hana, Courtier of the Imperial Court, at Tea
Hana looked across the cabin floor, knees crossed, head bowed. Her
eyes found those of Thousand Roads.
"What do we do?" she asked, eventually, voice low and dreadfully calm
in the dim light.
The monk of the Way closed his eyes, hands folded in his lap. The
little finger on his right hand twitched, twice, almost hidden in the
candlelight. Hana frowned inwardly. That was her friend's tell,
she knew; the desire for violence, for the easy solution. She knew it
was a constant struggle for him, one that he occasionally did fall
prey to. It was her duty as a friend to keep his blood cool in
situations such as this.
After a few seconds of silent turmoil, the monk's countenance
softened. His hazel eyes opened, and glanced almost imperceptibly
towards the katana by his side. Frozen Smoke, she knew it was called.
Hana had met many blades in her lifetime, both magical and
otherwise; but if there was one blade she suspected whispered to its
wielder, it was this one. Her eyes blinked, once, behind her steel
glasses. The blade made no sound, no movement on the cabin
floorboards, but she sensed it watching her nonetheless.
Her back ached from sitting, made worse by the cold floorboards under
her legs. Her hands ached from the day's duties, and her eyes itched
from the dust stirred up by the road. Even her mind hurt, damaged and
endlessly pestered by the maddening cultures this town brought forth
with each new day. Things were far, far different here from the way
they had been at home; the Shattered City always did its best to
remind her of that. But she was a courtier of the Imperial Court, and she was strong, and very
few ever saw beneath her masked demeanor to suspect the truth. Hana
was, inwardly, a storm of concerns and emotions just like every other
lost soul who lived in the City. Unlike the rest, however, Hannah had
harnessed her inner cacophony of thoughts. This inner mastery enabled
her to keep an eye on others, and the world around her, through a
perfect lens of self control.
It was through this lens that she now saw the room. Dust motes
floated in the dim candlelight, caught fire, and burst into minuscule
sparks for a fraction of a second. Her eyes flashed behind her
glasses as Thousand Roads made to stand. "Tea will help us think, I
believe," he remarked, rubbing the space behind his eyes. So, she
mused. He was not yet ready to make a decision. Perhaps he was
wrestling with the philosophy of his Way versus the very real problems
waiting just outside the cabin door. But rather than remark on any of
this, she said instead, "Yes, tea would be lovely. Thank you."
As the monk made to ready the kettle, joints popping as he stood,
Hannah's eyes turned to the third person in the room; a striking
vision of otherworldy beauty, clad in silk kimono and long red hair.
The kitsune smiled gently at Hana from her seated position. Hannah
offered a polite smile in return, while she mentally shook her head.
This was a creature she could not even begin to read; her posture was
perfect, her emotions ironclad and invisible to mortals such as
herself. Either that, Hana mused, or the fox-woman was making no
effort to hide her true feelings, and thus anything she said or did
had to be considered the most honest of truths. Mentally, Hana
shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose, while outwardly she
smiled and watched Thousand Roads struggle with the tea, his eyes
flashing now and then to the red-haired beauty seated on the floor.
And there was another odd behavior, she considered, as her friends'
eyes met. Briefly, they held each other's gaze, for no more than a
second or two, before turning away, he to his teamaking, she to the
candle's tender flame. Hana almost chuckled, but kept it at bay
with a mighty effort. They clearly thought great things of each
other, and had volumes of words to speak on the subject; but she had
yet to hear them speak more than a sentence or two in the last three
days. This, despite the world outside, despite the very real
possibility of either of them not being around tomorrow. Hana's
brow crinkled ever so slightly. Love must not feature very heavily in
The Way, she thought; and as for the kitsune, she could not even begin
to fathom how such a creature might feel on the subject.
Her reverie was interrupted by a knocking at the door, ever so slight.
No one responded to it in the slightest. The candle flame flickered
and guttered at the sound, but righted itself quickly.
Blinking furiously, Thousand Roads set the water to boil, and began to
set out the teacups. Small, brown vessels, barely capable of holding
more than a few thumbfulls of liquid; yet he insisted on using them
for every one of their gatherings. Perhaps they held sentimental
value to him, Hannah mused, or perhaps he simply didn't recognize a
sake set when he saw one. She smiled at the thought.
Thousand Roads stood by the tea kettle, eyes fixed upon it, the
candle, Hana, anywhere else but upon the kitsune. For her part, the
fox-woman fixed hers upon the monk, mouth upturned in a slight smile,
as if daring him to meet her gaze. The courtier watched them for a few
minutes, entertained and puzzled by their behavior, before getting to
her feet. To her credit, none of her joints popped. As the kettle
began to sing, she took three small steps to the window, looking out
into the darkness. Her eyes missed nothing, as always. She saw them
there, in the black of the night, staring back at her, at the cabin.
The crimson light of their eyes flashed in her steel glasses, and she
looked away. It wasn't fear that made her turn, or concern, but
merely the fact that there was nothing else they could show her that
she had not seen before. Nevertheless, her hands curled into fists
for a moment before she could bring herself to relax.
Thousand Roads poured the tea, the aroma sweet and familiar to her
now. Wu-yi tea, white-hot and delicious as always. It helped her
think. The others, she knew, felt the same way about it, and tonight
was nothing if not a night for thinking. As they took their seats
across from one another, steam filling the night air, each shared a
glance across the candlelight. The knocking came again at the door,
more insistent this time. It seemed to Hana that many hands might
be knocking now, dead knuckles against a thin wooden door. The
kitsune's eyes darted to the sound, teeth momentarily bared; Thousand
Roads reached for his sword. Through unclouded lenses, Hana saw it
all.
The sounds from the doorway ceased. Replacing it came an eerie
keening wail, from the throats of dozens of dead men. Thousand Roads
bowed his head towards them both; Hannah and the fox-woman returned it
in kind. Their eyes met again over the flickering candle flame, and
each reached for their cup. Outside, in the darkness, the howling
increased in volume, dead throats giving rise to truly dreadful,
graceless roars. The knocking on the door became a violent hammering,
a dozen dried hands doing their level best to gain entry.
Hana took a sip from her tea. It was delicious, warm and soft upon
her tongue. Cup hidden behind her kimono's sleeves, the kitsune
likewise brought the tea to her lips. Thousand Roads eyed his cup for
a moment, and brought it before him, blowing cool air across its
surface. The courtier smiled. She doubted he'd ever feel the same way
around tea ever again.
She opened her mouth to speak, voice clear and calm despite the din
outside. "I think they've only left us one choice, don't you?" she
asked her friends, taking another gentle sip.
The kitsune smiled over her sleeves, eyes lean and sharp in the
candlelight. Her head tilted slightly with the apparent effort of
thought. After a moment or two, she nodded in agreement.
Thousand Roads frowned to himself. He finally lifted his cup to his
lips, and took a gentle swallow. He had no fear of the things
outside, Hana knew, but he worried about the heat of the tea.
Having survived the ordeal, the young man nodded.
"Violence. Tonight, it is the Way. Do you agree, Hana?" he
replied, eyes firm with the decision.
Hana took a breath, setting her vessel upon the floorboards. She
bowed, perfectly, formally, to each of them. "First," she added,
nodding to the kettle, "I believe we should finish our tea."
Outside, the army of the dead wailed and howled and beat their fists
against the cabin. The candle flame wavered and shook, and the
shadows danced across the walls. Through it all, Hana, Thousand
Roads, and the kitsune shared their tea, and talked of many pleasant
things, of days long past and the places they might yet visit in their
lives. And when the tea was gone, the cups rinsed and the kettle
safely stowed, Hana walked to the door, and led her friends back
outside, into the darkness.
The undead never knew what hit them.
eyes found those of Thousand Roads.
"What do we do?" she asked, eventually, voice low and dreadfully calm
in the dim light.
The monk of the Way closed his eyes, hands folded in his lap. The
little finger on his right hand twitched, twice, almost hidden in the
candlelight. Hana frowned inwardly. That was her friend's tell,
she knew; the desire for violence, for the easy solution. She knew it
was a constant struggle for him, one that he occasionally did fall
prey to. It was her duty as a friend to keep his blood cool in
situations such as this.
After a few seconds of silent turmoil, the monk's countenance
softened. His hazel eyes opened, and glanced almost imperceptibly
towards the katana by his side. Frozen Smoke, she knew it was called.
Hana had met many blades in her lifetime, both magical and
otherwise; but if there was one blade she suspected whispered to its
wielder, it was this one. Her eyes blinked, once, behind her steel
glasses. The blade made no sound, no movement on the cabin
floorboards, but she sensed it watching her nonetheless.
Her back ached from sitting, made worse by the cold floorboards under
her legs. Her hands ached from the day's duties, and her eyes itched
from the dust stirred up by the road. Even her mind hurt, damaged and
endlessly pestered by the maddening cultures this town brought forth
with each new day. Things were far, far different here from the way
they had been at home; the Shattered City always did its best to
remind her of that. But she was a courtier of the Imperial Court, and she was strong, and very
few ever saw beneath her masked demeanor to suspect the truth. Hana
was, inwardly, a storm of concerns and emotions just like every other
lost soul who lived in the City. Unlike the rest, however, Hannah had
harnessed her inner cacophony of thoughts. This inner mastery enabled
her to keep an eye on others, and the world around her, through a
perfect lens of self control.
It was through this lens that she now saw the room. Dust motes
floated in the dim candlelight, caught fire, and burst into minuscule
sparks for a fraction of a second. Her eyes flashed behind her
glasses as Thousand Roads made to stand. "Tea will help us think, I
believe," he remarked, rubbing the space behind his eyes. So, she
mused. He was not yet ready to make a decision. Perhaps he was
wrestling with the philosophy of his Way versus the very real problems
waiting just outside the cabin door. But rather than remark on any of
this, she said instead, "Yes, tea would be lovely. Thank you."
As the monk made to ready the kettle, joints popping as he stood,
Hannah's eyes turned to the third person in the room; a striking
vision of otherworldy beauty, clad in silk kimono and long red hair.
The kitsune smiled gently at Hana from her seated position. Hannah
offered a polite smile in return, while she mentally shook her head.
This was a creature she could not even begin to read; her posture was
perfect, her emotions ironclad and invisible to mortals such as
herself. Either that, Hana mused, or the fox-woman was making no
effort to hide her true feelings, and thus anything she said or did
had to be considered the most honest of truths. Mentally, Hana
shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose, while outwardly she
smiled and watched Thousand Roads struggle with the tea, his eyes
flashing now and then to the red-haired beauty seated on the floor.
And there was another odd behavior, she considered, as her friends'
eyes met. Briefly, they held each other's gaze, for no more than a
second or two, before turning away, he to his teamaking, she to the
candle's tender flame. Hana almost chuckled, but kept it at bay
with a mighty effort. They clearly thought great things of each
other, and had volumes of words to speak on the subject; but she had
yet to hear them speak more than a sentence or two in the last three
days. This, despite the world outside, despite the very real
possibility of either of them not being around tomorrow. Hana's
brow crinkled ever so slightly. Love must not feature very heavily in
The Way, she thought; and as for the kitsune, she could not even begin
to fathom how such a creature might feel on the subject.
Her reverie was interrupted by a knocking at the door, ever so slight.
No one responded to it in the slightest. The candle flame flickered
and guttered at the sound, but righted itself quickly.
Blinking furiously, Thousand Roads set the water to boil, and began to
set out the teacups. Small, brown vessels, barely capable of holding
more than a few thumbfulls of liquid; yet he insisted on using them
for every one of their gatherings. Perhaps they held sentimental
value to him, Hannah mused, or perhaps he simply didn't recognize a
sake set when he saw one. She smiled at the thought.
Thousand Roads stood by the tea kettle, eyes fixed upon it, the
candle, Hana, anywhere else but upon the kitsune. For her part, the
fox-woman fixed hers upon the monk, mouth upturned in a slight smile,
as if daring him to meet her gaze. The courtier watched them for a few
minutes, entertained and puzzled by their behavior, before getting to
her feet. To her credit, none of her joints popped. As the kettle
began to sing, she took three small steps to the window, looking out
into the darkness. Her eyes missed nothing, as always. She saw them
there, in the black of the night, staring back at her, at the cabin.
The crimson light of their eyes flashed in her steel glasses, and she
looked away. It wasn't fear that made her turn, or concern, but
merely the fact that there was nothing else they could show her that
she had not seen before. Nevertheless, her hands curled into fists
for a moment before she could bring herself to relax.
Thousand Roads poured the tea, the aroma sweet and familiar to her
now. Wu-yi tea, white-hot and delicious as always. It helped her
think. The others, she knew, felt the same way about it, and tonight
was nothing if not a night for thinking. As they took their seats
across from one another, steam filling the night air, each shared a
glance across the candlelight. The knocking came again at the door,
more insistent this time. It seemed to Hana that many hands might
be knocking now, dead knuckles against a thin wooden door. The
kitsune's eyes darted to the sound, teeth momentarily bared; Thousand
Roads reached for his sword. Through unclouded lenses, Hana saw it
all.
The sounds from the doorway ceased. Replacing it came an eerie
keening wail, from the throats of dozens of dead men. Thousand Roads
bowed his head towards them both; Hannah and the fox-woman returned it
in kind. Their eyes met again over the flickering candle flame, and
each reached for their cup. Outside, in the darkness, the howling
increased in volume, dead throats giving rise to truly dreadful,
graceless roars. The knocking on the door became a violent hammering,
a dozen dried hands doing their level best to gain entry.
Hana took a sip from her tea. It was delicious, warm and soft upon
her tongue. Cup hidden behind her kimono's sleeves, the kitsune
likewise brought the tea to her lips. Thousand Roads eyed his cup for
a moment, and brought it before him, blowing cool air across its
surface. The courtier smiled. She doubted he'd ever feel the same way
around tea ever again.
She opened her mouth to speak, voice clear and calm despite the din
outside. "I think they've only left us one choice, don't you?" she
asked her friends, taking another gentle sip.
The kitsune smiled over her sleeves, eyes lean and sharp in the
candlelight. Her head tilted slightly with the apparent effort of
thought. After a moment or two, she nodded in agreement.
Thousand Roads frowned to himself. He finally lifted his cup to his
lips, and took a gentle swallow. He had no fear of the things
outside, Hana knew, but he worried about the heat of the tea.
Having survived the ordeal, the young man nodded.
"Violence. Tonight, it is the Way. Do you agree, Hana?" he
replied, eyes firm with the decision.
Hana took a breath, setting her vessel upon the floorboards. She
bowed, perfectly, formally, to each of them. "First," she added,
nodding to the kettle, "I believe we should finish our tea."
Outside, the army of the dead wailed and howled and beat their fists
against the cabin. The candle flame wavered and shook, and the
shadows danced across the walls. Through it all, Hana, Thousand
Roads, and the kitsune shared their tea, and talked of many pleasant
things, of days long past and the places they might yet visit in their
lives. And when the tea was gone, the cups rinsed and the kettle
safely stowed, Hana walked to the door, and led her friends back
outside, into the darkness.
The undead never knew what hit them.