#etrefleurbleues

[onigirisamurai]

[  GOLDEN SPICE CIDER ] "kagetsu ! have you heard ? apparently, it's customary in some places to try to eat as much cinnamon as you can. typically, it's with a spoon, but i have decided to try it in a drink," woe be louis, who had misheard - it was a challenge, not a custom. and yet, he was still curious about all in which fodlan had to offer. "would you care to join me ? in celebration of such a fun fight."

louis takes the jar of cinnamon and pours it into his drink. no, louis strayed from alcohol - it was never his taste, and so he takes the drink without the additive of such. despite this, the golden color darkens, and louis feels his expression falter for a moment. "hm . . . okay, well, bottoms up."

louis sips it.

for a man who has been born, raised and will ultimately ( hopefully ! ) live the rest of his days in the peaceful firene, there is one thing he lacks. it is spice. the palette louis has, for sweet fruits and well-cooked meats, has always been barren of spice. he coughs, slightly, keeping his mouth sealed. oh, he cannot swallow this.

louis coughs again, and his throat burns. despite this, he manages to swallow it, cheeks dusted red. "be-- aware that it's... ah," he coughs into his arm. "i added too much, kagetsu. please be--" louis coughs again. is there water nearby?

"please be careful," cough. "i'm fine, however. it's wonderful! i just am not accustomed to the taste."

cough.

“A custom, you say?” Kagetsu’s eyes narrow as he peers into the jar, tilting his head in hopes of a better view. ‘Cinnamon’… sounds sweet, he thinks. It’s something they put in desserts, right? He’s not particularly a fan of sweets, but he doesn’t hate them either. No harm in partaking just this once. Regardless of how unhealthy eating what he assumes is essentially a spoonful of brown sugar sounds.

“Certainly, my friend! I would be delighted to join you.” He reaches for a spoon with a nod, carefully scooping out some of the jars contents for himself. If he’s going to do the custom, might as well do it as intended. 

“Bottom is up!”He mirrors after Louis as he lifts the spoon to his own mouth, though staring at it for just a moment longer than Louis did before opening his mouth. The delay was just enough for him to hear the beginning of a warning, but the warning itself comes too late. Unfortunately for his lungs. 

Barely a second passes before the unexpected (and in his opinion, unpleasant) spiciness makes him gasp, causing him to unintentionally swallow the cinnamon. Which makes it infinitely worse.

He coughs uncontrollably, doubling over even as he leans against a nearby table for any hope of support in his efforts of not falling over completely. Somehow, despite feeling like he’s already coughed up about three times as much as he inhaled, there’s still more with each cough. Like glitter, it always remains. This is not a fun tradition. This is a curse.

“WHY— cough— WHY WOULD ANY—cough—ONE W-WILLINGLY PARTAKE IN— cough cough— THIS?? TH—cough—THIS IS AWFUL—“ 

How Louis could possibly find this experience ‘wonderful’ is a mystery. He’s pretty sure he’s dying. Someone please call him a doctor. 

[pryings]

to his desk is a nicely wrapped gift. the edges are creased and the ribbon is curled, a delicate light green with faux golden edges. tucked beneath the cross-section is a note.

' knoll ! thank you for all your dutiful support of us students at the monastery. whilst your book suggestions are undoubtedly perfect, your proposal of humorous events and sandbag-lifting has saved many a broken heart and broken back. kindly yours, louis. '

now, how did louis find out it was knolls birthday? people watching has its perks.

beneath the wrapping is a simple hard-cover, blank journal. it seems to be a decent one, too. the inside has three dried and pressed flowers - hydrangea, freesia and yellow rose.

it seems louis did not want to ruin it by writing anything inside of it, and so it remains entirely blank - a practical gift for someone louis presumes to be a practical person.

the gift is entirely unexpected. knoll often spends his birthdays alone, and treats them as any other day before or after. it is sometimes seen as terribly inauspicious, to be born in the winter months, with those long nights and startling winds, and knoll was born very late at night indeed.

another thing that had marked him with bad luck, perhaps, but something he pays no mind to.

he is surprised to see the gift upon his desk. wrapped neatly and utterly unexpected. there are few people who would know or remember his birthday, and even fewer still here. or so he had thought, and evidently thought wrong.

he opens it and gently touches the flowers. pressed and easy to keep, even keep within the pages of the journal if he so wishes.

there is a thoughtfulness to it, and to the note. he wonders briefly how louis managed to learn of his birthday, but discards it. there were forms he'd filled out for this position. perhaps the information is public, or only lightly obscured.

he sets the journal on his desk. it will be nice to have a new one.