Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach or it's characters
Tea. It's really one of the things that I savor most. Not that horrid powdery green stuff that has to be precisely whipped into its correct foam. And though the black variety is what I depend upon to get
myself going in the morning, and to help me complete those all too frequent late nights spent mercilessly beating paperwork deadlines, what I really prefer is a nice cup of herbal tea. To be precise,
herbal tea with no stimulants. A tea to be leisurely enjoyed, purely for it's own sake.
I love everything about it when it's brewed correctly, like how the steam ripples off of the clear dark amber surface and the heat smolders into my fingers through the earthenware cup. I like watching
the honey, so stiff on my spoon a moment before, melt in the liquid's hot caress.
Its taste brings my enjoyment to a whole new level. I usually suck in air to go along with each hot sip. The floral notes hit my nasal passages first but it's quickly replaced by the burning sweetness of
honey and herbs that wash over my tongue and completely fill my mouth. Swallowed in haste its warmth burns all the way down my throat, uncurls in my belly, spreads to my limbs, and causes my
cheeks to flush. The prolonged exhale afterwards once again brings out the floral notes that can now be smelt on my own breath.
The opportunities to enjoy it properly seem to be increasing of late. Perhaps it has to do with the fact that I anonymously received a lovely new blend, presented in a wooden box, painted with pink
blossoms for my birthday. Perhaps it has to do with the fact that war looms, and even I know when small moments should be savored instead of delayed. One thing I do know is that it has nothing to do
with the captain sitting beside me in the dark on the roof, one large hand clasped over mine as the other lifts a cup of steamy liquid to his lips. Nothing at all.