The bag of tea leaves is ornately wrapped, and carefully placed upon the desk in near deathly silence. It's a game in a way, to leave the most exotic of teas behind without being caught or notices, a game of awareness and concentration to amuse himself with on his fellow's birthday. The red and gold edged card is almost completely clear on who left it, and yet Hubert remains all the more content to leave himself anonymous.
"To Ferdinand, do try not to drink it all immediately." Snarky and in clear penmanship, leaving it atop the bundle and allowing himself to become one with the morning shadows once more. He need not say the words explicitly, not when the thought of the phrase 'Happy Birthday' is carried by the bag left behind.
Happy Birthday, Ferdinand Von Aegir 2025!
he found it when he wasn't looking for it—tucked neatly atop his desk, like a secret sealed with practiced care. Ferdinand paused mid-step, eyes catching the gleam of gold edging before his gaze lowered to the bag itself. a sharp breath caught in his throat. he knew the paper. he knew the penmanship.
"Hubert," he whispered under his breath, not as an accusation, but a quiet, fond confirmation.
he approached like the bundle might vanish if he were too hasty, gingerly lifting the card to read it in full. the words were unmistakable—so succinct, so dry—but laced with enough intention to burn warmth into Ferdinand’s chest.
he would be eternally grateful that poisons remained untipped and the scorch from his fellow's hand came from good will. really, if he knew any better, perhaps Hubert was fond of him. he scoffed to himself, endeared on principle, if not also to embarrass him.
the note was uncruel—the kind of harmless snark he would find derivative, if not for their time together. if Hubert was mocking him, he did a poor job of it. from its packaging and the subtle wafting scent that carried from it, Ferdinand suspected that the gift was radiating in forethought. "he hardly knows what he is talking about! as if I would be so unrefined when it comes to tea!"
a short half-huff from his nose was colored with laughter, as he crisply took apart the wrapping to find a loose-leaf black tea, earthy and toned. it almost resembled the kind of tea he adored from Almyra... "nevertheless, I should give it a taste, should I not? oh heavens, when was the last time I used a tea set?"
tea had attributes that brought people together. countless tea parties. innumerable hours over stove fires. he recalled a few moons back in Aegir, when many Black Eagles and Golden Deer needed a roof over their heads, he had offered to run a rolling boil for good measure. and there had been another time, during Yuletide, where Edelgard had parted with a tea set just for him. once again, he stood by his desk, basking in the smaller moments— steeped in floral, fruity aromas. roasted and deep. spiced and cloved. the variants as colorful as the people who sat across from him.
"I should get back to it. it has been a short walk around the moon since I treated myself."
and maybe he should invite a friend, too.
