Brew 3

Toriyami stretched his legs, rolling his shoulders as the grimoire lay in his lap. He had spent a long while seated, reading through the grimoire, losing track of time as he found himself fascinating in pages. With a quiet hum he turned toward Emery, about to speak – only to pause at the sight before him.

She had fallen asleep, her head resting against the back of the chair, soft breathes escaping from her slightly parted lips.

Toriyami smiled, a warm, affectionate curve of his lips as he took in her peaceful expression. The tension she had carried was melting away as she slept, leaving her looking softer and more vulnerable.

Carefully, he placed the grimoire on the floor before rising to his feet. He reached out hesitantly at first, growing more confident with his movements as Emery didn’t flinch. He wrapped one around Emery’s shoulders, his other arm slipping beneath her legs and lifting her effortlessly into his embrace.

“You know you must only sleep in bed,” he chuckled softly, adjusting his grip on her limp body. “You’ll catch a cold otherwise.”

Emery made a quiet sound, barely stirring in his arms. Toriyami sighed, shaking his head, recognizing the noise as one Emery would usually make when she is fast asleep. Knowing she wouldn’t wake up anytime soon. He made his way toward the stairs, moving carefully to avoid bumping into anything.

As he ascended, he passed by old photos, small charms and trinkets hanging on the wall – tiny glimpses of Emery’s past and the tea shop’s history. He walked past these halls countless time, but there was always something new he hadn’t noticed before, a small reminder of how deeply tied Emery was to this place.

Reaching her bedroom door, he shifted her weight slightly, managing to open it with ease. He stepped inside, the familiar scent of hers and books welcoming him. Gently, he laid Emery down on the bed, her body sinking into the mattress.

He lingered for a moment, adjusting the covers over her, ensuring that she was warm and comfortable. “Sleep well little witch,” he murmured with a quiet chuckle before pulling the door shut behind him.

He smiled to himself, returning to the study, picking up the grimoire once more before sitting in the chair Emery previous sat.

The fae giggled, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Well then Blaise,” she mused tilting her head. “Would you like that cup of tea?”

Blaise knitted his brows together. “You know my name?”

Blaise let out an exasperated sigh as he stood, brushing off the dust from his knees. The soft light filtered through the clearing, casting a shimmer over the fae before him. She stood with effortless grace, her white hair seemingly breathing with the soft gentle breeze.

In her hands, she cradled an intricately crafted teapot, the contents steaming with a soft golden hue. Blaise lifted his noise, smelling the faint cent of cherries and honey, easing Blaise’s suspicions over the sudden invitation.

“Of course,” The fae giggled, pouring some tea into the cups. “You often visit these woods, do you not?” She smiled softly gesturing to the trees above her. “Though you have never ventured so deep into the trees, they still whisper about you.”

“The trees whisper?” Blaise repeated skeptically.

“Oh, they have much to say,” The fae mused, stirring the tea with a silver spoon. “They especially take interest in a wizard who wonders through the trees with a notebook in hand, doodling he walks along.”

Blaise blinked. “You’ve been watching me?”

“Observing,” the fae corrected, a mischievous smile curling at her lips. “You’re quite entertaining, I must admit.”

Blaise sighed, giving up on the notice of understanding fae logic. Instead, he took his seat at the table, eyeing the tea before him, inhaling the fragrant steam. “Is that cherry?” He asked, curiosity outweighing his caution.

The fae nodded, looking pleased as she sat opposite him. “I tend o my own cherry trees here in the forest,” she said, her cheeks flushing slightly as she smiled.

Blaise hesitated, watching her for a moment before finally relenting. He lifted the delicate cup, turning it slightly before taking a cautious sip.

The warmth spread instantly, rich and smooth, coating his tongue with a perfect balance of sweet and floral tones. The longer he held the tea in his mouth, the more complex the flavors became – hints of honey, a touch of cinnamon and another note of something he could not place.

Blaise swallowed, sighing in satisfaction.

He smirked, leaning back slightly, feeling the tension in his shoulder’s ease. “Well, I suppose if I was to be tricked into having a tea party with a fae, it is at least a well hosted one.”

The fae gasped, placing a hand over her heart mocked offense. “Tricked? Blaise you wound me,” her lips sticking out in a playful pout. “I merely invited, and you accepted without even knowing the name of your host.”

Blaise straightened, clearing his throat trying to hide his embarrassment after tumbling over such a topic. “Ah yes. I should have been polite,” he shifted awkwardly. “So, what shall I call you then?”

The fae hummed, her golden eyes gleaming with amusement. “Aria,” she answered, her voice soft like the breeze rustling between the leaves.

Blaise chuckled, feeling his chest tighten as Aria maintained her gaze with him. He returned her smile before taking another sip of his tea. “Aria,” he repeated. “That is the name of the beautiful fae that stole my letter and coaxed me into the tea party.”

“Details, details,” Aria giggled tilting her head innocently.

Blaise smiled shaking his head. He had no idea what he had gotten himself into but for the moment, sipping tea under the trees, he wasn’t entirely sure he minded.