Teardrop Tea

The rain fell in great, gumptious drops, squashing themselves into the thatched roof and washing against the doorway. The brightly painted flower faces squeezed themselves up against the sky's deluge. Fog fell thickly throughout the gardens, quietly seeping into window frames and doorways. It was a chilled and earth-scented morning, the only warmth coming from the bubbling teapot over the harth fire. Junibub stared into the flames, lost in thoughts and memories, holding her hands gingerly towards the heat. Cal purred noisely at her side as she sat with her legs and feet tucked tightly into her thousand-times hemmed skirts. Each patch an emblem of her tireless work, the endless journeys, and courageous feats she faced without a shred of outward fear. She dazed into the dancing firelight and considered her next options. Sighing heavily, Junibub knew what she had to do.

Gathering herself, Junibub's face was reset into an expression of stoney resolution. She slowly stood, straighted her stance, and determinedly smoothed the fabrics that fell from her waist. Cal stretched and yawned before recurling himself under her frayed hems. She reached for him and brought his scruffy face close to hers. "This is no time for sleeping young one. There is work to be done." She nuzzled the rough furred khat's head and set him back down, now newly startled and alert. Having sensed the message if not outright understanding her, Cal pawed his way into a nearby worn satchel and sat in waiting. Junibub began rapidly moving throughout the small, wooden cabin gathering herbs, tinctures, and other odd and assorted items; dropping them into the many pockets sewn between the folds of her skirts. She paused again at the fire, and removed the tea kettle, pouring the steaming liquid into a small, handmade mug. She removed a glittering bottle from a nearby cabinet, the creaking door hanging haphazardly from its hinges. She silently counted as drops of a dazzling liquid fell into the mug, steam hissing and popping. She gulped the tinctured tea down in one gulp, quietly nodding and whispering "I'm ready." She thrust a fabric-wrapped slice of doughbread, pot of honeyjam, book labeled "magicks" in a scrawled script, and a homegrown bottle of spirits into her satchel. Cal, slightly flustered by her hastiness, rearranged himself to be seated above the satchels contents, his face cautiously poking out of the top as she slung the satchel onto her shoulder. Junibub turned once more, sweeping her eyes around the cabin, released her breath, and slammed her way out through the door in one fell motion.

Immediately met with the pelting, freezing rain Junibub scrunched her face and tore a ratty scarf from a hook by the door. She expertly wrapped the scarf around her head and face, held her arm against the wind and stomped into the puddled path. Her heart beat strongly as Cal ducked deeply into the satchel to avoid the piercing droplets. She crossed her yards and into that of her neighbor, Rosaem. She paused for a moment at the boundary of Rosaem's garden with its stone angels and playful whirligigs, her face momentarily steeped in rage and sorrow. Junibub counted to herself - 5 weeks. It had been 5 weeks that Rosaem had been missing, stolen from her home in the middle of the night.

She remembered Rosaem's 3 small children crying and stretching for their mama, as they were all held by formiddably strong arms of the White Tower Guards. The children were brought to the Waiting Center in a neighboring city, and housed with hundreds of other children as they waited for overworked and understaffed personel to contact their familiars. Junibub had attempted to visit them, but was stopped at the gates due to her lack of blood relativity and obvious magick markings. Tjat fateful night, Rosaem had been restrained and smashed into the back of a nightblack carriage, its swollen cab filled with huddled and weeping masses as the faceless White Tower Guards chained the doors and whipped the pulling horses forward. Junibub and the other villagers had watched in horror, too terror-filled at the sight of their arms and switches to be of any use. All they could do was stand side-by-side, slack-jawed and tears littering their faces.

In the 5 weeks that had passed, similar stories came to and flooded the village and those nearby. Neighbors captured in the dead of night, without cause or discussion. Children plucked from loving arms or worse sometimes also thrown into the carriages of darkness. Commotions were erupting throughout the land. Creatures of all realms were both rallying and fraying with one another. Junibub had gone from one corner of the land to all the others, with Cal by her side, in search of her missing neighbors and friends. She had fought alongside any ramblings of creatures she could, from the tiny tumbles with their acorn helmets and pin sized poison spears to the great towering rockfaces with their low grumbling landslides. Still, the Tyrant Emperor sat protected in the Gilded Tower, surrounded by the hoards of Rudies he kept in his favor. The Rudies were known for their red-nosedness, large-footedness, unfortunate small-brainedness, and unfathomable ruthlessness. They only cared for their gemstones and color bricks, barely even their own flesh and blood mattered to th at the promise of riches of which the Tyrant Emperor had many. Albeit, whether it was many promises or many riches, one could not be sure. It was enough, though, for the Rudies to keep him well, warm, and fed as darkness fell throughout the lands. And, as if the earthen lands were as aware their creatures, they too cried out in hurried winds and plummeting temperatures. The lands had begun to freeze in a bitter, icy glaze.

It had been 1 small, and yet gruelingly long year under Tyrant Emperor's rule. He had forced the skies with his powers, and the rains had begun to pour down, washing out crops and roads. Food stuff no longer grew in the farmlands, and creatures had begun to flee their homelands. Too many times, one would end up at Junibub's doorstep frozen, hungered, and hopeless. Junibub would open her door to the desperate pleas of a broken-winged faerie, fleeing rainbow sparktot, or dew-faced dragonaut far flung from home and scrounging the lands for either a home or a family member, oftentimes both. Junibub would feed them from her dwindling garden, strengthen them with her herbs, and fill their hearts with her courage before sending them on their waywards. They carried with them first, news of hatred growing at the borders, anger seeking outlets and resentment flaring in the face of famine. Learning Trees were being cut down and abandoned. Mothers and fathers were afraid to let thier young ones wander or play. Despite all the shortages and cruelty to vulnerables, no one expected the alarming rate of disappearances and violence. And most terribly, sharing of information was being deemed dangerous, and punishable. For this reason, Junibub knew she must join The Forward Facers. She knew their effectiveness would rely on numbers, cunningness, and creativity. She knew her powers would be welcomed and strengthened amongst the other magick-makers.

Cal curious from within his hiding place, softly whimpered. The noise snapping Junibub from her thoughts and memories. "Onward," she remarked resolutely to none but herself. Finite. Necessary. And she walked forward.