Medicine Seller (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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deercountry2022-01-09 02:09 am
meds4sale) wrote in deercountry2022-01-09 02:09 am
A Very Happy New Year [Open, Mingle Log]
Who: The Medicine Seller and You
What: A rather informal (emphasis on the former) hatsugama. Come get your tea and mochi.
When: January 9th
Where: At The Mossy Fox.
Content Warning: Mischievious but otherwise harmless spooks for those who might go wandering. Because of course he would live in a haunted house.
I. HATS OFF FOR HATSUGAMA
A. Arrival
It wasn't like the Medicine Seller could have lived somewhere less remote; that might make things convenient, and unfortunately he doesn't have a single ounce of convenient sensibilities. The journey to the Mossy Fox is, for most, a long one, up twisting paths through the woods. Helpfully, brightly coloured paper lanterns have been set out along the route for those who expressed interest in the tea ceremony, and for those who just need an escape from the bitter chill, and some of the steeper parts of the trek have been shoveled free of snow.
The Medicine Seller greets any arrivals, polite and aloof as ever, but there is hot tea or chocolate and bowls of o-zoni are served around the fire pit to ward away the winter chill and to give his guests time to mingle and any stragglers to make it up to the remote home in the heavy snow.
B. First Tea Ceremony of the Year
When it seems no more are coming, the Medicine Seller leads the group from the kitchen area to the spare room. It's quite a bit chillier in here without any heat source and poor insulation, though there are several kotatsu set up so his guests don't freeze waiting for their tea and sweets.
The process of making the tea is explained, from each component such as the portable little charcoal heater, to the delicate whisk, to say nothing of how a careful, deliberate process such as preparing tea might help with counteracting the psychological elements of corruption and beasthood.
Three at a time little bowls of a thick, green tea are served, coupled with plates of the hanabira mochi. The tea lacks the usual bitterness one might expect, tasting a bit how freshly cut grass smells; lightly sweet and earthy. The mochi too is pleasant; chewy and sweet but not overly so.
II. YOU'D BEST START BELIEVING IN GHOST STORIES...
The Medicine Seller's home is... eclectic. If one were to go wandering, they may see all manner of oddities; books and charts detailing diseases and treatments, curious knicknacks and pottery, an odd collection of clockwork toys that don't seem to work,scandalous literature... with pictures, various alembics and other chemistry equipment, sheaves of herbs and other plants hanging up to dry, and things in dusty jars best not to speculate too hard on.
Perhaps that clockwork doll begins to move suddenly, or you catch sight of a giggling child scrambling up the stairs out of sight, or perhaps there is a peculiar scratching sound beneath the floor from the the cellar, or the dulcet tones of an elegant sounding woman lead you out to the orchard.
Whatever the case, there is something very strange in the neighborhood.
III. PARTING GIFTS
All good things must come to an end, though there are remaining gifts to give to the guests. Little red paper bags containing samples of tea and incense and boxes of sweets and dried persimmons all tied with omamori in shades of red, pink, or gold. Protections from the darker things that lurk in the gloom of the forests as the sun sets over Trenchwood, and nice things to share with friends and loved ones.
"I do look forward to seeing you again soon," he says with a bow. "Do have... a safe trip home."
code bases by tricklet
What: A rather informal (emphasis on the former) hatsugama. Come get your tea and mochi.
When: January 9th
Where: At The Mossy Fox.
Content Warning: Mischievious but otherwise harmless spooks for those who might go wandering. Because of course he would live in a haunted house.
I. HATS OFF FOR HATSUGAMA
A. Arrival
It wasn't like the Medicine Seller could have lived somewhere less remote; that might make things convenient, and unfortunately he doesn't have a single ounce of convenient sensibilities. The journey to the Mossy Fox is, for most, a long one, up twisting paths through the woods. Helpfully, brightly coloured paper lanterns have been set out along the route for those who expressed interest in the tea ceremony, and for those who just need an escape from the bitter chill, and some of the steeper parts of the trek have been shoveled free of snow.
The Medicine Seller greets any arrivals, polite and aloof as ever, but there is hot tea or chocolate and bowls of o-zoni are served around the fire pit to ward away the winter chill and to give his guests time to mingle and any stragglers to make it up to the remote home in the heavy snow.
B. First Tea Ceremony of the Year
When it seems no more are coming, the Medicine Seller leads the group from the kitchen area to the spare room. It's quite a bit chillier in here without any heat source and poor insulation, though there are several kotatsu set up so his guests don't freeze waiting for their tea and sweets.
The process of making the tea is explained, from each component such as the portable little charcoal heater, to the delicate whisk, to say nothing of how a careful, deliberate process such as preparing tea might help with counteracting the psychological elements of corruption and beasthood.
Three at a time little bowls of a thick, green tea are served, coupled with plates of the hanabira mochi. The tea lacks the usual bitterness one might expect, tasting a bit how freshly cut grass smells; lightly sweet and earthy. The mochi too is pleasant; chewy and sweet but not overly so.
II. YOU'D BEST START BELIEVING IN GHOST STORIES...
The Medicine Seller's home is... eclectic. If one were to go wandering, they may see all manner of oddities; books and charts detailing diseases and treatments, curious knicknacks and pottery, an odd collection of clockwork toys that don't seem to work,
Perhaps that clockwork doll begins to move suddenly, or you catch sight of a giggling child scrambling up the stairs out of sight, or perhaps there is a peculiar scratching sound beneath the floor from the the cellar, or the dulcet tones of an elegant sounding woman lead you out to the orchard.
Whatever the case, there is something very strange in the neighborhood.
III. PARTING GIFTS
All good things must come to an end, though there are remaining gifts to give to the guests. Little red paper bags containing samples of tea and incense and boxes of sweets and dried persimmons all tied with omamori in shades of red, pink, or gold. Protections from the darker things that lurk in the gloom of the forests as the sun sets over Trenchwood, and nice things to share with friends and loved ones.
"I do look forward to seeing you again soon," he says with a bow. "Do have... a safe trip home."
no subject
[Right back to his nosy, prying questions. He can't really help it, when he has insatiable curiosity in place of appetites for food, sleep, friendship and love.]
To see another animal that isn't sentient, and to know what most humans expect them to be like?
[He hesitates; he always seems to, before settling in for longer than a glancing encounter with others. Maybe knowing he's handsomer than usual heartens his resolve more, because he does take a seat in an armchair that would have looked like it was eating his wiry body, pre-shedding.
His omen, an orca whale shrunken down to the size of a Labrador to better navigate indoors, circles his chair.
He wonders if Haru's ever met an orca whale and spoken with one, and what they might have had to say.]
no subject
[Though she doesn't sound offended by it, and when he does take a seat beside her she settles back into looking away and towards the warmth of the fire.]
But it did disturb me at first...the animals themselves. I don't care about how a human would expect me to act as a rabbit.
[She sees the orca circling around him out of the corner of her eye. Her own omen remains pocketed away, wherever omens stay when not around their person. But says nothing in response to the animal, accepting it as much as she accepts her surroundings.
Shrugging her shoulders, she brings the tea back to her mouth, muttering before taking a sip:]
That's their problem, not mine.
no subject
It's difficult... universally... to truly not care what others think. It takes a very resilient spirit.
[He's bad at this, bad at not finding buttons. It's almost instinctive for him to see the round red edges and be drawn to them like a rat in a cage that's been trained to understand the button leads to food, and that the food is the most interesting thing likely to happen that day in the cage.]
I don't believe that anyone is born resilient. Do you?
no subject
At least this conversation is distracting her from how itchy she's been feeling.]
I'm not sure. Everyone is born differently, and everyone has their own issues to deal with because of how they were born.
[And there are people she cares about, whose opinions on her she values enough to try her best. But it's not a stranger's business who those people are. It's not like they're here, anyway.]
I'm actually not that resilient of a person, but people will judge you no matter what you, so I stopped obsessing over it.
[And doing things that put her in harms way. She's imperfect at it, of course, but life for her is never going to be perfect.
Glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.]
Do you care about how others think of you?
[Going to direct the question right back at him.]
no subject
[Mind over matter is a powerful thing. Having something to focus on helps with all kinds of pain and discomfort, he's found, and this is no exception.]
I think that birth is a neutral value, so everyone is born equal... but from the first moment after, the balance starts to shift, wholly due to the circumstances of the birth and everything that comes after.
[Don't sell your resilience short, he doesn't say, because Haru's down-to-earth nature seems to preclude the need for reassurance. Instead, he just keeps turning his cooling tea in his long, slender fingers.]
I like to think that I don't care... and maybe that's true. My circumstances were such that I didn't have to see or speak with people most of the time, though, so... really, it's like asking a fish that's lived its whole life in a bowl if it cares about the dangers of the ocean.
I value the opinion of a fish that's lived in the ocean more highly.
no subject
[She makes a small noise of acknowledgement.]
When a small prey animal is born...the odds are kind've stacked up against us. [Not that the balance is shifted against them, but she still can't shake the feeling of being born a loser no matter how hard to tries. Even her relationship with Legosi can feel that way at times, regardless of the kind of pedestal he tries to put her on.] But it makes sense that it's different in a world where society is made up of one species.
[It must be easier...
But his response of being alone for a lot of his life does resonate with her. Although--]
Why would a fish live in a bowl?
[That isn't really a thing where she's from!!]
no subject
[Far too many.]
...but it's a different perspective I hadn't considered. I suppose I homogenized your relationships with one another because you spoke so amicably about a bear.
[It takes him a moment to realize how strange it might sound to someone from Haru's world, something every human takes for granted in his from earliest childhood.]
So that a human could keep it as a pet. You've heard of this... or seen it, surely, even if it's only here. Animals kept by humans as livestock, or to do a particular job like herding or hunting, or for display, or companionship.