merrimanlyon | (no subject)

(no subject)

Dust motes swirl lazily in the long patches of the late afternoon sunlight that illuminate in the castle's library. All the chairs are empty, the tables and reading stands bare of books. Someone has gone through and given the place a thorough seeing-to, putting books and scrolls away and generally straightening up the usual detritus found in a reading room.

That someone is still in the library, sitting quietly and reading a book.

A little reward, relaxing after a task completed.

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Someone else wanders in, singing softly.

The place is entirely too neat. Gwion is fond of clutter. He frowns, a little.

And then he blinks.

"Merlion?"

Merlion glances up from his book -- and then glances further up to actually look at the harper.

The shift in perspective is a little odd. Normally, he would be almost a head and a half taller than Gwion, if they both were standing. But on this occasion, Gwion is standing...and Merlion is on the floor.

On a hearth-rug, actually. Kneeling. Or rather, sitting on his heels.

'Yes?'

Gwion tilts his head to the side.

"Practicing to become a nun?"

That gets a very black look.

'Having spent a combined total of three hundred and ninety-two years, eight months, and forty-four days as a member of the clergy -- in one denomination or another -- I have no desire to renew my acquaintance with those who contemplate a very different interpretation of the Life Everlasting.'

A pause. The corner of his mouth twitches faintly.

'I do hope you will pardon me not getting up immediately, harper. It will take a moment for the blood to return to my lower extremities.'

"Simply because of their interpretation? Or is it really the monochromatic color scheme?"

This is a bit rich from a man who wears nothing but black.

Also, Gwion doesn't mind, as the longer Merriman is kneeling, the more time Gwion has to point out that he is kneeling. Preferably in an amusing fashion.

A slight shift in position, and Merlion is no longer sitting on his heels. His robes settle around him like skirts, but he makes no move to get up off the floor.

'The head-dress is a trifle off-putting,' he says, dry as the dust that has not quite settled back to coat the shelves and tables once more. 'Even a tonsure is preferable to the rather outlandish styles that some of the orders favour.'

With that, he places his hands firmly on the ground, and with only a slight grimace he starts to get to his feet. Slowly and carefully, as if he does not entirely trust his legs yet.

He watches this for a moment in silence. Then:

"Is there any reason in particular you decided to do this?"

He brushes a bit of dust from the skirts of his robes.

'I spoke with the Honourable Lady Ako the other day, and during the course of our conversation she mentioned that she enjoys hosting a tea ceremony. It is something of an art-form in her culture.' Looking at the harper from his proper height, he feels slightly more in control of the situation. 'The ceremony involves sitting in seiza -- where one sits on one's heels for an extended period of time.'

A beat. 'It requires practice. And I am out of practice.'

Gwion's face betrays nothing.

"Ah."

Merlion bends to pick up the book he had been reading. And winces slightly at the movement.

'Very out of practice,' he mutters, dusting off the cover of the book with one hand.

Exhibit A: One harper, wondering very much if this tea ceremony is prelude to some kind of courtship ritual.

What? He's met Ako, and spoken to Ako about her intentions. It's not implausible.

"...what do these tea ceremonies usually involve?"

Merlion looks up from the book, and blinks. 'A good deal of time is often spent admiring the objects used in the ceremony: the teapot, the cups, the tea itself, the method of serving it. It is a way of appreciating the fact that each moment is different and therefore to be treasured -- even within the confines of a very strict ritual, no two ceremonies are exactly alike.'

He crosses to the bookshelf, and replaces the book he had been studying.

'But on the most basic level, it is a ceremony in which a specific kind of tea is prepared, served, and consumed. Not so different to the tea ceremony of which the English are most fond -- though they do not imbue it with such a metaphysical meaning.'

...courtship ritual.

"Sounds...intriguing."

Pause.

"You'd participate in such a thing considering the manner in which she usually greets you?" He is careful to say this with just the right amount of mild surprise.

He had been running his hand across the spines of the books on the shelf, searching for something, but at Gwion's question his hand stills.

'It is her typical way of greeting, I believe. I hardly think that I am the only person whom she greets in such a fashion.'

Ask Will and James, Bran, Jane Drew, Mordred and quite possibly any number of Milliways patrons. Not that Merlion is fully aware of this, but it deserves to be mentioned.

At that, he selects a book from the shelf and turns round, holding it out to Gwion. It is a bound volume with stiff, creamy pages, and marked on the spine in faint gold lettering are the words The Book of Tea.

'The author was a museum curator who specialised in Far Eastern art -- a good man who was fond of explaining his culture to Western audiences. If you were interested in learning more about the ceremony, this book is a suitable starting point.'

He isn't going to say anything about the part where he'll have to wear a kimono for it. Not at all.

Gwion will find out anyway. He takes the book and leafs through it quickly.

"It shall go to the top of my stack." He places it on the table. "And tell me this, lion -- how many has she invited to take part in this whom she greets in that manner?"

'None others of which I am aware,' he says calmly. 'But it has been some time since I took part in a tea ceremony, and I find it very relaxing. So when she mentioned that she was fond of it, I saw fit to declare that I would be honoured to participate in such a ceremony if she chose to host one in the near future.'

The part where she caught him on a good day might have had something to do with it as well.

Well. If Ako has designs on the lion...who is Gwion to interfere?

This won't stop him laughing about it, though.

He'll just wait until he leaves to do it.

"Mm."

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