Tea Among the Trees

Today, Rosemary was not going to open her shop.

She decided this quite early in the morning. After creaking her little bun joints out of bed (she was starting to get older, loathe she was to admit it), Rosemary was tiredly planning out her morning to-do list when she caught a glimpse of the world outside her bedroom window.

Hopping up to the cushioned window seat, she saw the cavernous landscape around Burrowgatory alight in bronze, crimson and gold. The foliage of their sinful city had begun turning a few weeks ago, during the month before All Sinner’s Day, but it was now at the point where the whole of the cave system truly looked autumnal. From the edge of town, two stories high in her apartment above Spectral Steeping Tea House, the view of the forested region was magnificent. Reaching a hoof out, she unlatched the delicate old pane and welcomed in a crisp fall breeze. The tension drained from her tiny shoulders. She was going for a walk today, she decided.

That was the convenient thing about owning your own business— you didn’t have to work on days you didn’t want to. Rosemary was no sloth bun, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t require a break every now and then. Business had been profitable enough lately that she could afford to take the day off. Running Spectral Steeping alone was sometimes demanding, but it had its perks, such as being able to fuck off into the woods whenever she pleased (And keeping 100% of the revenue for herself, thank you very much!)

Filled with newfound eagerness, Rosemary moved to her oaken vanity and began preparing for the day. She greeted her darling pet Phantomile, at home napping in his teacup, with a gentle pat on the head and a sugar cube from the drawer for breakfast. She applied her eyeliner carefully, unwilling to forgo a dramatic makeup look even if she was not going to use her doll form or see much or anyone that day. To finish, she brushed her fur, settling the large curl in the center of her forehead perfectly.

“Perfect,” she admired her image in the mirror.

Trailed by her trusty spirit motes, Rosemary descended the creaking stairwell into her shop proper. Or, the kitchen of it, at least. The back end of the shop was also her personal kitchen, with leafy green tea plants tumbling down from shelves and a hoard of spices bulging out of the cupboards. Rosemary was not exactly the world’s neatest bun, but she was a damn fine tea brewer. Besides, patrons of Spectral Steeping Tea House tended to like the eclectic mix of mismatched antique décor and dusty bookshelves of gothic literature present in her humble café. Not to mention every cup, saucer, chair, and pillow was not only of good quality, but also chosen to fit a carefully curated atmosphere.

Quickly, she got to work fetching a kettle and filling it with water at the sink. Obviously, there’s no trekking out into nature without a fragrant thermos of warm tea. Rosemary set the kettle upon the stove’s flame to boil and scurried from a stool up onto the counter to rummage through her cabinets. The perfect tea, the perfect tea… she settled on smoke-dried black tea leaves, cinnamon, cardamom, ginger, and cloves. “A lovely spiced brew,” she murmured happily to herself as she prepared a steeper in her favorite teapot and added the kettle’s contents.

As the hot water set about brewing her chosen blend, she called up the stairs to her well-trained little imp. Earl lazily floated down the steps, wearing his cup upon his head as a means of transport. Rosemary had taught him to do that after numerous incidents of the Phantomile dropping her beloved tea cups out from underneath himself while trying to move about. She called him to her side as she packed a woolen blanket into a basket.

“Would you like to come with me on a little adventure today, Earl?” Rosemary cooed adoringly at her pet. Earl stared blankly at her with thoughtless, perpetually nervous eyes. “That’ll be a yes, then,” she answered herself humorously.

Decanting the freshly brewed tea into a thermos, the bun flicked her devilish tongue out in a quick taste. It wasn’t a groundbreaking mix, this time, but it was comforting and flavorful, which is exactly what she wanted today. In a fit of indulgence, she decided to add a splash of milkweed creamer to the cup.

Tucking the precious thermos and a breakfast pastry into the basket in one hoof and scooping up her imp in the other, Rosemary exited to the front end of the tea house and weaved through the tightly packed arrangement of doll and bun sized tables. She gently pushed the stained glass front door open and shut, locking it tight and leaving the store sign to “Closed”. She stopped to savor her deep breath in, and enjoyed the chilly autumn air for the second time today.

Then, turning on a hoof, she headed towards the golden foliage in search of the perfect spot to stop and enjoy her tea.