血妙 | “too hot and it will scorch the leaves,” with a careful hand she inclines the cast-iron kettle, allowing a thin stream to meet the mesh basin of fresh gyokuro, sunken in earthenware.
“then, we leave it for three minutes.”
as the tea rested, she returned the kettle to the hearth. the embers were reduced to a kindly, smouldering light now.
“I know it must seem like such a rigmarole,” her half-smile was given to reassure rather than amuse, “but I use it as an opportunity to slow down. breathe a little.”
she brought her gaze to @hollownekomata—a near maternal scrutiny which, in the quiet of the teahouse, tried to read the heart. hollow or not. one was there.
“you've had a good deal to learn recently, I've no doubt. I thought something quiet like this might do you good today.”