The world is light and fleeting around them--ephemeral as the sweet kiss of mist in the tongue of a candle’s flame. It slides around them, thoughtless and serene, shapeless until a shape must take underneath the wandering eyes of the companions. Shifting unheeded in the corners of the serpentine eye, the world is ignored by the great, scaled serpent as his muscles contract and flex, gliding with surprising smoothness towards the edge of the boat.

He climbs aboard, and like all else in a world that will linger evermore in the edges of their consciousness, his anger ebbs away, forgotten and shapeless, lost in the heels of her explanations. “Fair enough,” he concedes, and great, thick coils settle themselves neatly underneath him, occupying a boat that would seem impossible to be able to carry such a weight. His fuss was probably all for naught, at any rate; the tea is not boiling, although it will certainly still be pleasantly warm upon the tongue. He straightens his tie absently; she was not so late, after all. “Your feathers are well preened as ever,” he says in a smooth, tart tone—business and formal, a correct observance of etiquette rather than something honest and heartfelt. She did bring cookies, after all. And he had been short with her earlier, hadn’t he?

The tip of his tail slithers from behind him; it reaches upwards, grasping the delicate handle of the china teapot from his head and settling it gently upon the tiny table that was so graciously made up and prepared. He sets the pot and the sugar bowl; the small pitcher of cream, should she so desire it; two intricately-patterned plates with cups to match. That snake-lips would have trouble gripping the brim of a little teacup did not cross the basilisk’s mind. It did not need to. He was here to drink tea over stimulating conversation and that’s exactly what was about to happen.

“Tea,” he grandly presents; he does not know the kind of leaves that steep within the kettle. He only knows she requested tea, and he has provided. “This set belonged to my grandmother, I’m told,” he explains, for some light talk is desired before something heavy and thought-provoking, right? “She passed before I was born, but many of her heirlooms and treasures were granted to my family. I made double sure that every trace of arsenic was scrubbed clean from the pot. It is certainly usable at this point...” He speaks, and a snake’s tail slithers about, pouring gracious amounts of steaming amber liquid into either cup, and offering her saucer.




@[Maren] <3
"This is how I talk"