Primeval fic: There is a Sublimity
Title: There is a Sublimity
Author: SCWLC
Disclaimer: I don't own anything herein, I'm making no money from it, and I'm pretty sure I shouldn't either.
Rating: G
Summary: We live and die by some choices, we stay awake for meetings for others.
AN: More tea character analysis, this going to the second of the teamfests. I think when I'm done I'll do a quick master post linking them together. I also think I was reaching with Ryan. I have no handle on his character, really. This title, by the way, is a misquote, because lacking in tea-related titles I have gone for the family copy of Bartlett's for the last, this and the next one.
This is the most magnificent movement of all! There is a dignity, a majesty, a sublimity, in this last effort of the patriots that I greatly admire. The people should never rise without doing something to be remembered -- something notable and striking. This destruction of the tea is so bold, so daring, so firm, intrepid and inflexible, and it must have so important consequences, and so lasting, that i can't but consider it as an epoch in history!
Diary [on the Boston Tea Party, Dec. 17, 1773] - John Adams
******************
Daniel Quinn liked his tea and he liked it done right. He wasn't like the others at the station, happy to have some of those third rate cheap bags of orange pekoe from Tesco's. He always got the good stuff, trekking out to Harrods for his dose of good English Breakfast. He'd get up early, make it right, start his day with something strong and solid, sugar and no milk, because he did like a bit of sweet.
He could burn his stomach lining all day with that dreadful station coffee, he just drank it for the caffeine and so he wouldn't sleep through another interminable meeting about regulations he could care less about while he waited to get on with the job.
Funny, none of that changed when he started chasing dinosaurs for a living.
***************
Patrick missed tea. It was something you couldn't get a million years in the past. He missed his mum putting in too much milk because she thought it might stunt his growth the way coffee was supposed to, thought the milk might defray that. He missed Danny giving him extra tea when he wasn't looking, because Danny may have sometimes been a bit of a berk, but he was still Patrick's awesome older brother who'd let him feel like he was adult enough to appreciate things like that.
Ethan didn't miss tea. Not for all the tea in the world would he give up the rush and the high he got, starting his morning by tracking down and seeing another creature's life spill away. He was up with the nonexistent lark for that, kept a lid on it because he knew it would bother Charlotte and the others, but with the excuse of chasing down breakfast he could get that rush and high that was better than the morning cups of tea he'd been finally allowed when he turned fourteen.
The first thing he'd done, once the shock of Charlotte's death and Emily's abandonment had worn off, was take a man's wallet and get cup of tea from an impersonal Starbucks, to nurse quietly in the park.
*******************
Oliver Leek drank tea, as he did everything else, to a purpose. He'd carefully checked what most people had, then settled on having Earl Grey because it meant he had something specific he could ask for, that made him sound like he had definite opinions, and was easy enough to get in stores. He was careful to always use only good tea bags, always use boiled water from a kettle, an electric one, not an old-fashioned stovetop hunk of metal. He had it with milk and no sugar, milk added after even though you were supposed to put it in first, because he could reference the Queen when he did it the other way. He felt all this gave an added depth to his character as he discussed things with other people in a friendly way.
When it became clear at the ARC that no one cared in the slightest, he gave up on that, because he didn't want to impress them anymore, he wanted them to understand just how much better he was and make them all beg. At least not caring meant he could microwave the inexpensive tea bags again, He'd missed not having to fuss about with boiling water.
*******************
Nicholas Cutter was a traditionalist everywhere in life except his evolutionary theory. He liked it that way. He liked taking out his tea bags, English Breakfast, Earl Grey, Darjeeling, it didn't really matter, whatever was on cheap that week to soothe his economical Scottish heart. He had a large teapot and a proper kettle that whistled when the water boiled. He made it right, scalding the tea pot and pouring the hot water over the bag right after. He'd leave it to steep for fifteen minutes, wanting it strong enough to stand a spoon upright in, a dollop of whole milk and a spoon of sugar.
He had a silly mug at the university and a newfangled ridiculous electric kettle for making it in his office, but there was something offputting about the sharp click of the thing turning off when the water boiled that he just didn't like.
Stephen twitted him about it, but given that Stephen was the precise reverse, traditional views in biological theory and demanding melodrama in his food, Nick chose to ignore him.
*********************
Stephen Hart had grown up in a highly conventional household, and sometimes suspected of himself that he was still acting out in defiance of it. He loved tea, as much as Nick did, certainly. But where Nick insisted on everything being traditional, Stephen simply found it unendurably dull. Hidden in his blank white cupboards were dozens of different teas for every mood he might have.
When he wanted something to wake up, a spicy Chai, peppercorns and nutmeg in a mug, black and strong. For when he had take away there were a few different types and kinds of green teas and jasmine teas, a black Indian tea and Ceylon. Herbals for late nights when he wanted something hot to drink that wouldn't keep him up and others he'd got just because he wanted to try something new.
He bought the American iced tea for the next time Nick came over for a football match, wanting to see his face. After being fired from the ARC, he discovered Helen had drunk it all.
*********************
Tom Ryan liked black Lapsang Souchong tea. He'd liked it ever since he was a lad and had thought it just sounded cool. Lapsang Souchong. Someplace far away, where the whole world and people were different. Not like the same ones he saw every day on the same street in the same school over and over and over. He liked that he could have a bit of exotic in his life and still have control over it. He branched out over time into other sorts of teas, but there was a sentimental preference for Lapsang Souchong. Always black, of course. What was the point in having all those different things if you couldn't taste it for the milk and sugar?
It was why he joined the military. All the excitement he could want, but wrapped up in something organised and disciplined. It was a little like tea that way. You could have any sort you wanted, but the bag, the boiling water, the steeping, all that was the same. It balanced nicely. Pragmatism and adventure all at once.
Funny that it was the unpragmatic Connor Temple who'd remembered to give them some tea before heading into the second Permian anomaly, since they might be there long enough to want it.
See the rest of the Tea Set:
One Lump, or Two?
And is There Honey Still for Tea?
It is a Gentleman
Back to archive page
Author: SCWLC
Disclaimer: I don't own anything herein, I'm making no money from it, and I'm pretty sure I shouldn't either.
Rating: G
Summary: We live and die by some choices, we stay awake for meetings for others.
AN: More tea character analysis, this going to the second of the teamfests. I think when I'm done I'll do a quick master post linking them together. I also think I was reaching with Ryan. I have no handle on his character, really. This title, by the way, is a misquote, because lacking in tea-related titles I have gone for the family copy of Bartlett's for the last, this and the next one.
This is the most magnificent movement of all! There is a dignity, a majesty, a sublimity, in this last effort of the patriots that I greatly admire. The people should never rise without doing something to be remembered -- something notable and striking. This destruction of the tea is so bold, so daring, so firm, intrepid and inflexible, and it must have so important consequences, and so lasting, that i can't but consider it as an epoch in history!
Diary [on the Boston Tea Party, Dec. 17, 1773] - John Adams
******************
Daniel Quinn liked his tea and he liked it done right. He wasn't like the others at the station, happy to have some of those third rate cheap bags of orange pekoe from Tesco's. He always got the good stuff, trekking out to Harrods for his dose of good English Breakfast. He'd get up early, make it right, start his day with something strong and solid, sugar and no milk, because he did like a bit of sweet.
He could burn his stomach lining all day with that dreadful station coffee, he just drank it for the caffeine and so he wouldn't sleep through another interminable meeting about regulations he could care less about while he waited to get on with the job.
Funny, none of that changed when he started chasing dinosaurs for a living.
***************
Patrick missed tea. It was something you couldn't get a million years in the past. He missed his mum putting in too much milk because she thought it might stunt his growth the way coffee was supposed to, thought the milk might defray that. He missed Danny giving him extra tea when he wasn't looking, because Danny may have sometimes been a bit of a berk, but he was still Patrick's awesome older brother who'd let him feel like he was adult enough to appreciate things like that.
Ethan didn't miss tea. Not for all the tea in the world would he give up the rush and the high he got, starting his morning by tracking down and seeing another creature's life spill away. He was up with the nonexistent lark for that, kept a lid on it because he knew it would bother Charlotte and the others, but with the excuse of chasing down breakfast he could get that rush and high that was better than the morning cups of tea he'd been finally allowed when he turned fourteen.
The first thing he'd done, once the shock of Charlotte's death and Emily's abandonment had worn off, was take a man's wallet and get cup of tea from an impersonal Starbucks, to nurse quietly in the park.
*******************
Oliver Leek drank tea, as he did everything else, to a purpose. He'd carefully checked what most people had, then settled on having Earl Grey because it meant he had something specific he could ask for, that made him sound like he had definite opinions, and was easy enough to get in stores. He was careful to always use only good tea bags, always use boiled water from a kettle, an electric one, not an old-fashioned stovetop hunk of metal. He had it with milk and no sugar, milk added after even though you were supposed to put it in first, because he could reference the Queen when he did it the other way. He felt all this gave an added depth to his character as he discussed things with other people in a friendly way.
When it became clear at the ARC that no one cared in the slightest, he gave up on that, because he didn't want to impress them anymore, he wanted them to understand just how much better he was and make them all beg. At least not caring meant he could microwave the inexpensive tea bags again, He'd missed not having to fuss about with boiling water.
*******************
Nicholas Cutter was a traditionalist everywhere in life except his evolutionary theory. He liked it that way. He liked taking out his tea bags, English Breakfast, Earl Grey, Darjeeling, it didn't really matter, whatever was on cheap that week to soothe his economical Scottish heart. He had a large teapot and a proper kettle that whistled when the water boiled. He made it right, scalding the tea pot and pouring the hot water over the bag right after. He'd leave it to steep for fifteen minutes, wanting it strong enough to stand a spoon upright in, a dollop of whole milk and a spoon of sugar.
He had a silly mug at the university and a newfangled ridiculous electric kettle for making it in his office, but there was something offputting about the sharp click of the thing turning off when the water boiled that he just didn't like.
Stephen twitted him about it, but given that Stephen was the precise reverse, traditional views in biological theory and demanding melodrama in his food, Nick chose to ignore him.
*********************
Stephen Hart had grown up in a highly conventional household, and sometimes suspected of himself that he was still acting out in defiance of it. He loved tea, as much as Nick did, certainly. But where Nick insisted on everything being traditional, Stephen simply found it unendurably dull. Hidden in his blank white cupboards were dozens of different teas for every mood he might have.
When he wanted something to wake up, a spicy Chai, peppercorns and nutmeg in a mug, black and strong. For when he had take away there were a few different types and kinds of green teas and jasmine teas, a black Indian tea and Ceylon. Herbals for late nights when he wanted something hot to drink that wouldn't keep him up and others he'd got just because he wanted to try something new.
He bought the American iced tea for the next time Nick came over for a football match, wanting to see his face. After being fired from the ARC, he discovered Helen had drunk it all.
*********************
Tom Ryan liked black Lapsang Souchong tea. He'd liked it ever since he was a lad and had thought it just sounded cool. Lapsang Souchong. Someplace far away, where the whole world and people were different. Not like the same ones he saw every day on the same street in the same school over and over and over. He liked that he could have a bit of exotic in his life and still have control over it. He branched out over time into other sorts of teas, but there was a sentimental preference for Lapsang Souchong. Always black, of course. What was the point in having all those different things if you couldn't taste it for the milk and sugar?
It was why he joined the military. All the excitement he could want, but wrapped up in something organised and disciplined. It was a little like tea that way. You could have any sort you wanted, but the bag, the boiling water, the steeping, all that was the same. It balanced nicely. Pragmatism and adventure all at once.
Funny that it was the unpragmatic Connor Temple who'd remembered to give them some tea before heading into the second Permian anomaly, since they might be there long enough to want it.
See the rest of the Tea Set:
One Lump, or Two?
And is There Honey Still for Tea?
It is a Gentleman
Back to archive page