13987/A Cup of Tea

A Cup of Tea
Date of Scene:	27 November 2021
Location:	Two Bridges (Chinatown), Manhattan
Synopsis:	While Vitali looks on over a cup of tea, Xiang Zhao secures breakfast for himself then proceeds to purchase breakfast for and feed Soraya.
Cast of Characters:	Vitali Svyatoslav, Xiang Zhao

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Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
Morning has come, and the dawn brought with it a rime of frost to kiss the surfaces with its icy touch. The sun has nudged upwards in the sky, and though there is the wan light of day, it is a bit on the grey side of things. There are clouds that hang a bit low in the sky as though there is the threat of snow lurking yet not quite realized. The temperature is a bit brisk, hovering right around freezing.

Vitali, courtesy of his uninvited 'guest', is dressed in a different set of robes that were procured from somewhere. The robes are black, trimmed with a thin bit of white. The darkness of the fabric is broken up with white in patterns of cranes in flight and in swirls that could be reminiscent of clouds or mist skittering across the surface of a lake. His long black hair is left loose, parted down the middle and left to tumble over his shoulders and back.

He is comfortably settled at a table within the tea house, seated at one of the low seats there. His hands rest lightly within his lap as he awaits the delivery of the tea that he had ordered.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
A bit brisk is just how Xiang Zhao prefers it. To him, this temperature is a nice summertime temperature. Where he's from. He's been out for the better part of the night. Night hunting. Hunting for creatures that feast on humans. This night, he actually had to draw his sword. It doesn't happen very often.

As he walks, Xiang Zhao's robes swirl about him with the motion. Silvery and white and looking like nothing more than snow blowing across a plain. It looks like wind and blowing snow in swirled patterns. He'd hunted, keeping Soraya with him. Now, she's perched on his left shoulder as he walks along the street. When she squeezes with her talons, he starts paying closer attention to what his senses are telling him.

So it is that he notes where Heng Zhihao has taken Vitali to. He doesn't look, not with his eyes. He continues walking along the sidewalk. His steps entirely unhurried. His left hand at the small of his back. His right hand holds his fan in it, the fan raised and waving sedately as he walks along. Strolling. Apparently enjoying the stalls and stands he walks past.

Xiang Zhao pauses at a vendor selling rolls and dumplings and such. He exchanges a few words in Mandarin with the vendor, an aging man who's hair is iron and frost, that has a cheerful smile and sparkling eyes, like the darkest of green jade.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
Other than the foray that had resulted in securing this current set of robes, Heng Zhihao had spent the night at that little camp at the grove in the forest. The one that she had taken Xiang Zhao to not so long ago. It had been a quiet night, there. The things that live in the forest tend not to mess with him -- or the spirit that controls his body.

As Zhao walks past the tea house, Vitali's attention is caught by the swirling movement of the fabric of his robes. He takes a moment to look the Chinaman over from head to toe and back again, and he tilts his head just a touch to one side. A flicker of curiosity touches his dark eyes, yet for the moment, he remains seated where he is. He makes a slight gesture with the fingers of his right hand, whispering a soft word as he does. In the wake of that gesture, large flakes of snow start to lazily drift down through the air outside of the tea house.

A waitress carries a tray to his table, settling it down before carefully moving the teapot of very hot water, a lidded brewing cup sitting on a saucer and tea cup from the tray to the table, and a small bowl of loose leaf tea for him to use. The waitress asks if he'd like anything else, in Mandarin, but he makes a slight gesture of his hand to wave her away, his gaze yet held upon the Chinaman -- with the eagle -- beyond the tea house.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
The use of Vitali's magic is not missed by Xiang Zhao. He doesn't so much as glance at the now falling snow. He knows it's not real slow, but that conjured up by the huli controlling his friend's body. The eagle sitting on his shoulder leans down to gently tug at a bit of his hair. He speaks to her, in Mandarin. Not that she understands it, but it's more comfortable for him. "Yes, Soraya. I know. You are hungry. It is only a few minutes away."

He half bows to the vendor, something which makes that vendor blush and shake his head, saying it's unecessary. Zhao's lips curl up ever so slightly, and he nods, and says he's going to continue to do so anyway. With his prize in hand, Zhao turns to continue along the sidewalk, tucking the fan, now folded, away as he does so. He eats his breakfast as he walks.

Xiang Zhao gets perhaps three buildings down from the one Heng Zhihao is sitting in before he crosses the street. He walks into a shop on the other side. A butcher shop. He's within for only ten minutes or so. By the time he emerges, his breakfast is gone, having been eaten and the wrapper disposed of within the shop. In hand, instead, is Soraya's breakfast.

Stepping up next to one of the large, square stone planters with a tree planted within it, Xiang Zhao sits down onto the edge of it. He holds out his left arm. Soraya hops down onto it, wings half spread, and then from there to the edge of the planter. She faces him, wings still half mantled, shifting from foot to foot. Eager for her breakfast.

A quiet chuckle comes from the Chinaman as he pulls a chunk of freshly cut meat from the bag. He holds it out to Soraya, who takes it gently before tossing it back into her beak and swallowing it down. She looks expectantly at Zhao again. Who performs to expectations, giving her another chunk he'd readied while she gobbled up the first.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
There have been some parts of Vitali's magic that Heng Zhihao has played with more than others. She has done her best to practice with all of what she has access to. His magic intrigues her, for she's not possessed a body before that had such gifts. She doesn't have control of all of his magic, whether she realizes it or not. Outside, the snow continues to fall, whisper soft.

One of his eyebrows quirks up a touch as Vitali watches the interaction between the Chinaman and the vendor. He reaches out to the bowl of loose leaf tea, moving aside the lid from the brewing cup before measuring some tea into it. Then he sets aside the bowl before picking up the hot water and pouring it in. The lid is put into place, and he tilts his head a touch to one side as he looks beyond the tea house, watching as Zhao heads for the butcher shop.

Whilst Zhao is within that shop, Vitali pours his tea and drinks it. Vitali himself happens to prefer either the tea from his own homeland or the tea that Zhao has to the one that Heng Zhihao has selected. But there is little that he can do about it. Once he's finished the cup of tea, he sets it aside before placing money on the table -- yuan, interestingly enough.

Smoothly, Vitali rises to his feet and abandons his table. Normally, he would remain and drink the remainder of the pot of tea, but today... today, he does not. He steps gracefully towards the exit of the tea house, deftly slipping around the waitress he encounters along the way, his attention once more upon Zhao. And the eagle. He steps outside and into the snow, which speckles his robes and hair, and he starts to pick his way along a path that will take him closer to where Zhao has chosen to feed Soraya her breakfast.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao continues to ignore the falling snow. It gathers upon his hair, shoulders, lap, melting fairly swiftly with his body heat. He ignores it in favor of feeding the eagle. Chunk after chunk of meat goes down the maw. He's getting better at judging how much to get, now. And there's no more meat in the bag when Soraya fluffs out and shakes herself. She then goes to preening, ignoring Zhao in that moment. Xiang Zhao's lips curl up again. He rises to his feet and walks to the bin a few feet away to dispose of it.

Today, there's too big of a draw for the possessing spirit. When Xiang Zhao happens to be in plain sight, apparently unaware of Heng Zhihao's presence, and within reach. His back presently to the tea shop, he whistles very softly. The eagle's head turns and she looks at him. Wings spread and she launches into the air without hesitation. Her scream fills the air as she disappears out of sight beyond the buildings, and higher into the sky from there. She doesn't reappear until she's high in the sky, and well out of the reach of Vitali's magic.

Xiang Zhao turns then, and continues along the street. In the opposite direction he had been going before, across the street from Vitali's location. He looks for all the world like he has no idea Heng Zhihao is there.

Footsteps entirely unhurried, it would seem Heng Zhihao has all the time in the world to catch up to him. And yet, several people cross in front of the huli at that moment. By the time Vitali can see across the steet again, Xiang Zhao is crouched atop the roof beside where he'd just been walking. Behind the balustrade, he watches the Siberian from between the slats. He's all but invisible. And gone, to Heng Zhihao. Disappeared like a ghost evaporating in sunlight. Again!

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
The feeding of the eagle is watched by Heng Zhihao. Piece after piece of meat is eaten by the raptor. She watches the eagle and she watches the man who feeds her, as well, in fairly equal measure. They both stir curiosity in her, though it is the eagle who stirs the greater of it in this moment. If she could but capture the eagle, then she might have a greater means of swaying the spirit who belongs to the body she's occupying. A smile ghosts at the corners of his lips, and he holds his hands before himself as he continues along, his hands neatly tucked away and out of sight within the sleeve of the opposite arm. Vitali hides and protects the information about these two, and Heng Zhihao reasons that there must be a reason for that.

The Chinaman seems unaware of him, and yet... the eagle is sent away to fly. She is a graceful and beautiful bird, and Heng Zhihao stops for a moment simply to admire the flight for what little of it she can see. There is the barest flicker of silvery-blue to touch his dark eyes, perhaps a bit of a distraction provided from within to prevent any ill intent from coming to pass until Soraya has vanished beyond the buildings.

"Interesting... very interesting," Vitali murmurs, speaking in Mandarin. His gaze lingers on the eagle as it appears higher up in the sky and well out of reach of any magic Heng Zhihao might use. His attention turns in the direction of Xiang Zhao, watching him across the street for a brief moment. Just as he's about to turn to cross the street, a number of others pass before him. Once they are out of his path, he finds that Xiang Zhao has done what he seems to be so gifted at doing -- he has vanished. His brow furrows slightly as he takes a moment to scan the area a little bit for him. Then he withdraws his right hand from his sleeve, making a slight gesture as he does so and causing the snow to stop. What snowflakes were falling happen to continue their way to the ground, but there are no more that fall.

"One day, you may not vanish so easily," he says quietly to himself. He turns then, his robes softly fluttering around him and his hair moving lightly across his back, and then he starts to make his way along the snow-dusted street.