"Oh!" Nibbin clapped his hands in delight. A tea party for them? How positively delectable! He leaped onto the table in one bound, skipping over to a dark green teacup that matched his attire. "What a lovely little arrangement!" he exclaimed. "What could we have done to deserve this?" The overwhelming scent of baked goods tore him away from the teacup and led him across the table to a wide platter of little cakes resembling biscuits. Smelling as if they were fresh out of the oven they looked like they might melt in his mouth. Eagerly, he reached out a hand to tear off a piece.
Last edited by Ljungtroll on Sat Nov 14, 2020 11:11 pm, edited 1 time in total.
"The artist deals with what cannot be said in words. The artist whose medium is fiction does this in words. The novelist says in words what cannot be said in words." --Ursula K. Le Guin
Carter watched as the tiny man, Nibbin, already started taking part in the food. Meanwhile, Carter was less enthusiastic and more suspicious. He strode to find his place marker, with an ivory teacup. The tea inside was a deep red. It smelled like apple spice, and it reminded him of the harsh kingdom winters.
He hummed, looking down into it.
Someone had prepared for them a tea party, and he'd been forced to show up and dress the part, but he didn't have to partake.
"I'm not sure we did," Carter commented in response to Nibbin.
Nibbin ignored him, sinking his teeth into the biscuit-cake with a moan of appreciation. It tasted like everything he'd dreamed it would be, but there was a strange aftertaste to it. He couldn't quite place the flavor... "Oh, that's--" He blinked. "I'm the reason my colony is being harrassed by trolls." Wait, what? Nibbin dropped the cake, clapping a hand over his full mouth. Oh, dear, oh dear. Why had he said that? He kept his hand clamped firmly over his mouth, grimacing. That had been what the flavor was: magic. A touch bittersweet with a dash of spice thrown in...of course. He had to get out of here.
"The artist deals with what cannot be said in words. The artist whose medium is fiction does this in words. The novelist says in words what cannot be said in words." --Ursula K. Le Guin
Daisy blinked, startled at what Nibblin said. She didn't know what it meant, exactly, but Nibblin's reaction to it showed that it wasn't something he'd meant to say.
By now, Daisy had taken her seat, and had been about to take a sip of the tea. She put the cup down. "What is it, Nibblin?" she asked with concern.
"I--I--" Nibbin took a few steps away from the cake. "We have to leave. This place...I hadn't meant to say that!" He pointed to the platter. "Those biscuits are infused with magic."
"The artist deals with what cannot be said in words. The artist whose medium is fiction does this in words. The novelist says in words what cannot be said in words." --Ursula K. Le Guin
Alan found a card with his name written on it, which he assumed to be his spot... especially since everything was so personalized and perfect. Ordinarily he would have been quizzically looking at the teapots and wonder who was controlling them, but right now, he was more amazed at how his area was personalized to him.
Herbal tea that smelled of rosehips and hibiscus wafted in the air from the flower-shaped tea cup that happened to have the same blue markings of the porcelain cup he had back home. His favorite pastries were piled on a plate next to him, and he could see some of them even had cream fillings with fresh strawberries on top.
He was starving but it felt rude to eat without everyone else eating at the same time, even though Nibbin appeared to be helping himself to the food already. Instead, Alan picked up his tea cup and took a small sip of tea.
Hmmm. It tasted like what he expected, but it had a strange kick at the end. He took an even bigger sip to decipher this unexpected flavor, but then Nibbin's ominous words rang in his ears, and instinctively he spit out what was left of his tea back in the cup.
Infused with magic? Suddenly his appetite seemed to dwindle.
A quiet growl almost left their lips, but said lips were shut before the noise could escape. Lexal found their seat by process of elimination - and by searching for a cup that was so yellow that it could have been made out of gold instead of china. They sat down at their seat and stared at the array before them.
We should eat something.
The suggestion was followed by a not-so-hidden roll of their eyes.
It could be poisoned, idiot.
They shifted in their seat. Why would they go through the trouble of that? There's easier ways to kill us.
Lexal folded their arms. I would kill them first if they tried attacking us. They probably knew you'd be stupid enough to want to drink it-
The mental argument was interrupted by Nibbin's exclamations. Giving a smug grin, Lexal settled back a little more in their chair-
-only for a hand to suddenly shoot out and flip over the card with their name on it.
I told you the food was dangerous-
Aleks, the card has our names.
An eyebrow was raised in response. We told them our name-
No, not that name - plural names. Aleks and Lex.
There was a long, drawn out pause. It was really only a matter of seconds, but it felt like an eternity for Lexal.
...I'm not seeing your point, idiot. Cut to it already.
We said our name was Lexal, was the quick, frantic reply. We didn't introduce ourselves as two people! If we don't want everyone here to think we're weirder than they already do, we have to make sure they don't see the card.
Carter hadn't considered that the food could be laced with magic - he'd been thinking poison - but it made sense, given the bizarre circumstances.
He hummed, still standing by his seat instead of sitting down like the others.
"Well, it may be wise to exercise self control in the future, as it seems the food being served here cannot be trusted. If the food is laced with magic, I doubt there are any good intentions behind it." He looked down into his teacup, then up at the teapots, magically moving and pouring things by themselves. It was unnatural and disturbing, but it didn't need calling attention to. It wasn't like he had an explanation for it, and he could tell the others didn't.
"Strange, though, that the magic made you say something you didn't mean to," he said. "Was that a secret you share? Is that why it shocked you? Or did you find yourself, suddenly, unable to tell a lie?"
He wondered if they could test it, and how long the magic would affect Nibbin.
Nibblin snorted. "My dear boy, why would I use this occasion to lie about something that has nothing to do with the lot of you? It appears that one of my deep and hidden regrets has been forced to the surface by the force in this biscuit." He pointed an accusing finger at the platter in question. "I had no intention in sharing that information and I find it quite distressing to have lost control of my own tongue!" He whirled and leaped off the table, landing neatly on the soft ground. "We ought to depart immediately."
"The artist deals with what cannot be said in words. The artist whose medium is fiction does this in words. The novelist says in words what cannot be said in words." --Ursula K. Le Guin
Daisy gave the table a wary look. It was a very pretty trap, but if that's what it was, what was to keep the one who set it from ensuring they couldn't just leave? She wouldn't have made it so easy to just walk away, herself.
"I believe our host may prefer that we stay," she said carefully, settling into her seat.
"We don't have to eat the food," Alan said gently, trying to deescalate the rising anxiety around them. "But if there are hosts, perhaps we should find them. I don't see anyone around but us."
Carter stood behind his assigned seat, resting his hands on the back of it. He looked around and didn't see anyone apart from the people he'd already met.
"I think we should wait," Carter said. "They invited us here. They should come eventually. Even if they're late to their own gathering."
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