[Gift] The 11th Hour | Tea

The café was bustling in the early afternoon, clientèle huddled around intimate tables piled high with delicate, often elaborately-decorated patisserie and porcelain tea sets. The soft murmur of many quiet conversations were underscored by a duo of string players on a raised dais, playing so softly that one could forget that they were there.

Hooves clopped on the café floor as Penne followed his rider towards a table set aside for one. A few people took note of him, and he shrank every time, trotting closer to the swish of Elicia’s skirts, hoping to be ignored and forgotten.

Once they arrived, Elicia sat with all the grace of a lady, and Penne leaped into the air, short wings flapping like a hummingbird as he rose from the floor to the seat across from her. The waiter who had seated them placed a delicate-looking cup in front of both himself and Elicia as if he were just as human as her, and began discussing menu options as if Penne weren’t there, much to Penne’s relief.

He wasn’t sure why he, of all of Elicia’s dragons, had been invited. It was a delight, of course, to spend time with her. It was equally daunting to be in this public place, with all these people and rules he didn’t know—rules that might be different for dragons than they were for people—hanging over his head, waiting to fall upon him.

He watched with somewhat muted horror as a stuffy-looking woman at another table picked up a piece of bread elegantly twisted into a braid, and laid it on the ground where a dog smaller than Penne began tearing into it. It was horrifying as much as it was a relief. At least he had manners.