The Yuletide Ball that Transcends Time and Space (Open)
Nov 26, 2017 16:00:15 GMT -5
Post by Gilwen on Nov 26, 2017 16:00:15 GMT -5
“We shall each have the hot cocoa.”
Gilwen, who had been eyeing the vast array of adult drinks as they passed by the long table, finally turned her attention to the low table with curiosity. She had never seen a drink like this, though the smell was tantalizing. It was, however, very clearly a table for children, and a few nearby sparred with the peppermint sticks as if training with swords.
Faeldor handed her a rather comely mug of dark-brown, swirled liquid. She took it in hand, the heat rising, drawing with it the sweet aroma of whatever this was straight into her nose. She drew a deep breath, fingers curling about the mug in delight.
“What is this?” She marveled.
“The beans for this drink come from the jungles of Far Harad. Taste it, you will be surprised.”
She frowned. This was from a bean? Gilwen had eaten beans before; they were not sweet. Still, there was nothing in Faeldor’s face to hint the man was lying. Slowly, she lifted the mug to her lips, even as Faeldor asked for a shot of brandy to be added to his. The ladies giggled as the complied, and Gilwen gasped, marveling down at the drink.
As Faeldor moved them away from the low-table and the gathering children, Gilwen looked up to him. “This is a bean?” She marveled. “Are all of Far Harad’s foods so sweet?” It was unlike anything she had ever tasted before. It was divine and sweet, silky as it moved down her throat. She had heard the people of Haradwaith were barbarous. This, though, did not seem the drink of blood-thirsty folk.
“Look, my darling. Look at the snowflakes.”
Gilwen lifted her eyes from the mug of bliss. She gasped. “Fael! Is…is it real?” She asked, eyes wide and marveled. She paused and examined the other stretches of the hall. “Is it magic?” She asked. There was not snow anywhere else. Perhaps this was an enchantment. She did not know the Steward worked with wizards.
Faeldor
Gilwen, who had been eyeing the vast array of adult drinks as they passed by the long table, finally turned her attention to the low table with curiosity. She had never seen a drink like this, though the smell was tantalizing. It was, however, very clearly a table for children, and a few nearby sparred with the peppermint sticks as if training with swords.
Faeldor handed her a rather comely mug of dark-brown, swirled liquid. She took it in hand, the heat rising, drawing with it the sweet aroma of whatever this was straight into her nose. She drew a deep breath, fingers curling about the mug in delight.
“What is this?” She marveled.
“The beans for this drink come from the jungles of Far Harad. Taste it, you will be surprised.”
She frowned. This was from a bean? Gilwen had eaten beans before; they were not sweet. Still, there was nothing in Faeldor’s face to hint the man was lying. Slowly, she lifted the mug to her lips, even as Faeldor asked for a shot of brandy to be added to his. The ladies giggled as the complied, and Gilwen gasped, marveling down at the drink.
As Faeldor moved them away from the low-table and the gathering children, Gilwen looked up to him. “This is a bean?” She marveled. “Are all of Far Harad’s foods so sweet?” It was unlike anything she had ever tasted before. It was divine and sweet, silky as it moved down her throat. She had heard the people of Haradwaith were barbarous. This, though, did not seem the drink of blood-thirsty folk.
“Look, my darling. Look at the snowflakes.”
Gilwen lifted her eyes from the mug of bliss. She gasped. “Fael! Is…is it real?” She asked, eyes wide and marveled. She paused and examined the other stretches of the hall. “Is it magic?” She asked. There was not snow anywhere else. Perhaps this was an enchantment. She did not know the Steward worked with wizards.
Faeldor