Sunlight Filtering through a Window | Fulfilled | Serenity
Loosen up on the grind/ Simmer down/ Settle back and mess around/ Be the cat in the sun
Be the Cat – Kylie Dailey
Characters: Guardian Kajj
Content Warnings: N/A
Words: 560
The kettle sang its own song and Kajj got up from the table with a self-indulgent sigh, using his hand to press against the rough-hewn surface and help himself up. His leg brace clicked quietly as he made his way to the counter, just barely audible beneath the quiet hum of contentment that he sang. It was a good morning for tea.
He found that he quite enjoyed the ritual of it, the methodical arrangement of elements. First, the selection of the cup. Today, he chose a sunshine yellow one, a bit lopsided and awkwardly shaped. A vessel better suited to holding memories than liquid, but it would suit the latter just fine. He placed it gently on the counter, smiling at the heavy, warm sound it made, and poked it gently with a claw to turn it just so, revealing the small flower that had been painted on the side, drawn by a small and unsteady hand.
Next, the silver strainer. There was certainly more efficient ways to make a brew, but he was fond of this one himself. He held the tiny, porous vessel up to the light, examining the shine and checking for any leftover residue he might have missed in his last cleaning. He drew a claw beneath the edge and popped the hinge open, setting it aside and ready to receive.
He adjusted his song to harmonize with the music of the wind chimes tinkling gently outside of the cabin as he reached for the small measuring spoon that rested habitually atop the canister of leaves, smiling to himself as he popped the lid and caught a waft of the warm, herby scent. The spoon hissed quietly as he doled out a scoop, and if he closed his eyes it sounded like the wind through the leaves in the sun-filled glade in which they had been gathered. Into the strainer it went, the little lid snapped back into place, pressed with the bowl of his spoon. The canister resealed. The spoon replaced. Satisfaction – soft and sure, to see everything back in its place, knowing that it would be there and waiting for him when next he needed it.
He set the strainer into his mug with a cheerful plink, holding onto the tiny silver chain with one hand while he reached for the kettle with his other. It was time, then, for the main event. With a careful hand, he directed a slow stream against the strainer, his gaze lifting briefly to admire the way the steam danced in the sunlight that streamed through the window. A rich, earthy aroma rose from the cup. Real sunlight. Real tea. Safe, dried and gathered by his own two hands, an unbroken provenance with no chance of interference.
He set the kettle back onto the stove, turned off the element with a practiced flick, and retrieved the cup from the counter, drawing it and its warmth in close against his body. The heat of the water was soothing against his joints, leaking slowly from earthenware to glove to chitin, soft and diffused. He settled himself back into his chair and his gaze drifted to the window, watching the sea-like swell of the grass just beyond, where the hatchlings darted between the blades.
And with another sigh, contented this time, he brought the mug to his mouth and drank.