Tea With the Town Optimist

Anaeryn fussed with the lace doilies one more time, centering them evenly around the glass vase filled with cloudberry stalks, pine shoots and cherry,birch branches, and one snowdrop. The lone blossom must been hell to find at this time of year, before the plum trees were even showing their buds. 1

"Okay," she called over her shoulder into the hall, where the other three were supposed to be waiting. She turned and saw Nacidan in the doorway already, leaning leisurely against the doorframe. He was examining the table with his minimal glance, and the minute her blue eyes caught his dove grey ones, he pushed away from the wall warily. "Hey," she said with irritation, "you weren't supposed to come in till I told you to, you jobbernowl." He didn't say anything, in his usual maddening way, but she decided not to scold him too much; after all, he had put together the vase for her. Only he could make winter arrangement material look good. Shalar pranced in, hand floating gently and eagerly along the wall as she found a seat and sat down, hand twitching on the table; getting dangerously close to her cup before dancing away. Her blind eyes glimmered with excitement and her face glowed with smiling, as always. As the town optimist, she had her reputation to uphold. 2

"I can't wait," she announced. "This is going to be amazing!"3

"Since when do we have four cups that match?" asked Thalion grumpily. He was sulking, because she hadn't let him watch her prepare. She could tell that he was somewhat exited, try as he might to hide it, because he didn't tell Shalar to stop twitching like a schizophrenic dragonfly. The only one who wasn't looking forward to the experience of a classical tea party, that she could tell, was Nacidan. Then again, he didn't usually show more than mild enthusiasm for anything. One day, Anaeryn thought, I am going to shock him, just so I can say I have. It would certainly be something to brag about.
"I magiked them." Anaeryn answered Thalion. Nacidan withdrew his hand from the one he had been about to touch.
"I am not going to drink from magiked cups."
"I know, Nacidan. That's why you" she stared pointedly at him, "get the original. Just because I know you sooo well."
"Why thank you, Anaeryn. So kind of you." He smiled at her, which was not a rare occurrence; he was always entirely mannerly and polite, and smiled whenever he wanted something or you had just given him something he wanted. He managed to do it sincerely too, somehow.4

"Ok," Shalar said, meeting her eyes. How the heck did she do that? She was blind, for heavens sake. "Down to business. Where's the tea?"
"In front of you, Shalar." Thalion said in his most scathing manner. The insane blind happy-midget, as she was sometimes called, detected--or pretended to detect--no malice.
"Oh, really? Neat! You probably know all about this, huh, Thalion? I mean, you Rams have tea at least twice a day, don't you? Neat." Anaeryn knew by the way his eyes were flashing greener than usual that Thalion was going to object to being called a Ram (short for Ramasali), so she cleared her throat loudly, halting any possible outburst. She picked up the teapot dramatically, and said,
"To us; our health wealth and happiness, not to mention our delightfully consistent friendship, and the fact that we never, ever, ever fight or annoy each other in any way. Or be rude to one another, which we would never, I repeat never, do."
"Anaeryn," Nacidan mildly pointed out, "You toast with alcoholic beverages, not tea."
"Shut it, Nacidan. There's no way I'd ever in a million years serve any of you alcohol. A drunk Shalar? Heaven forbid."
"A scary thought, indeed." But they all lifted their empty cups in a toast anyway, though nobody tried to tap the cups together. It definitely would not have been safe for Shalar to try that; she wasn't clumsy, just overly enthusiastic. Tea-pouring time, Anaeryn decided. She wrestled away Thalion's teacup from his possessive grasp and filled it. Then she did the same for everybody else's. Nacidan put his on the table before she could snatch it. 5

"One lump or two?" she asked Shalar. She waited. A slightly confused and curious expression fluttered across Shalar's face, then was replaced by a speculative one. She then furrowed her forehead with thought. How hard could it be to decide something that trivial? asked Anaeryn to herself.
"Lumps of what?" Shalar finally asked. Thalion snorted loudly.
"Sugar, Shalar! What else could it be, for gods sake?"
"Well," the girl said defensively, "How was I to know? I've never been to a tea party before. And I didn't think it was very polite or lady-at-a-tea-party like to ask to examine it or smell it before allowing her to put it in." Nacidan quietly suggested,
"If worried about manners, perhaps you could have just declined, or taken a risk and said one?"
"But then I would have been dying of curiosity all through the party! Would you have done differently in the same circumstance?"
"I doubt I am ever going to be in the same situation, so I don't have to think about it."
'Empathy, Nacidan, is a virtue." said Anaeryn glibly, but Shalar thought for a second, cocking her head and tapping the table.
"You have a definite point there. Both of you." Nacidan expounded quietly.6

"Sometimes it is a virtue, but other times, it's easier to ignore. Gets rid of all kinds of uncomfortable hypothetical questions and things you'd rather not think about. If you don't have the empathy, how can you be expected to answer, much less think about what you'd do in the classic controversial situation?" Thalion blinked and looked at the teenage boy across the table.
"Nacidan," he began to drawl, "We do not expect you to do anything that makes you remotely uncomfortable. Or have any feelings of empathy or sympathy or any annoying human feelings like that. Imagine trying to understand, far less pity, the plight of another sentient life form! Oh, the agony and the effort involved. No, we could not put you through anything like that." Shalar stared disapprovingly in Thalion's general direction.
"I'm not saying you shouldn't feel empathy, just that admitting you feel it, either to yourself or others, is sometimes inadvisable. Unfortunately, I find that the more you ignore it, the more you feel it. In my personal experience, anyhow." Nacidan suddenly looked embarrassed, as if he'd admitted to something he hadn't meant to, like feeling empathy. He was like that a lot; he'd get philosophical and thoughtful, and then he'd refuse to expand on the really interesting ideas he introduced after a certain point. Then Thalion would try to rip his opinion to shreds, and Shalar would stare disapprovingly in their general direction.. Anaeryn decided it was time to change the subject, and turned deliberately towards Thalion.7

"So, what kind of things do they talk about over tea in Ramasal? Nice non-controversial topics." He took the hint reluctantly, always eager to pick a fight with Nacidan.
"Uh, the weather. It's horrible, isn't it?"
"I think it's lovely myself,'" remarked Shalar. "What's with all the lace oilies under the little plate things?" She'd pulled her 'oilie' out from under her 'little plate thing' and had been fingering it with fascination. "They are oilies, aren't they? Why are they called that? I mean, they aren't oily at all." Nacidan touched the edge of his, leaving it underneath the saucer, and replied offhandedly,
"They're doilies. I've never gotten the point of them." Anaeryn huffed at them both.
"Tea parties have doilies. And lace tableclothes. Deal with it, you two." Silence reigned once more, as all but the hostess drank their tea. She was busy glancing at everybody and straightening things. It was almsot pleasant; the sounds of slight clinkings and breathing.8

"The tea smells good, Anaeryn. And so does the whatsit in the middle of the table. And the teacup is very smooth, and I can hardly tell it's magiked at all." Anaeryn almost blushed. She had worked hard on the teacups to please Shalar's sharp senses.
"Yeah, it does smell good." Thalion was very gracious.
"I cannot argue with that," agreed Nacidan, "The tea smells superb. Like mint and lemon and orange all at the same time." Anaeryn felt a little suspicious at this praise, and couldn't help sniffing her tea. It did smell good. It was probably all the lemon and orange and mint that she'd added. She sipped it. Immediately, the inside of her mouth puckered into the hardness of a stale raisin. She gagged slightly, and tried to swallow.
"This is horrid!" she cried. Nacidan had the grace to look embarrassed as he said,
"I can't argue with that either. It certainly is one of the most horrid things I've ever tasted. How much lemon did you put in?"
"Erm, a lot. I wanted to make it smell good." Shalar applauded gleefully.
"Congratulations! You succeeded. You won't mind if I just put it here on my little plate thing on my oily and sniff it, then? Good. Let's talk about something nice, shall we? Something happy and inspiring, and we'll eat these seseme seed cakey thingydoos." Nacidan gratefully pushed his tea away from him--Anaeryn noticed that he had hardly drank more than a sip, and marvelled at his acting skills--and left only Thalion nursing his cup. He looked sheepish.9

"I didn't think it was so bad." Anaeryn beamed at him almost tearfully. This was not going the way she'd expected. Nacidan, though running fingers through his dark hair in the way he did when at ease, was obviously amused, and only Shalar was keeping her from bursting into tears. Though with Shalar about, it was pretty much impossible to do so. She emitted a motherly, comforting, amazingly happy aura wherever she was. She often said: "It's not my fault people love me, they just do." But no matter how Shalar thought, this tea-party was obviously not a success.