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Shadowheart lifted the carafe to her nose, surprised by the scent coming off of it. She recognized it, but… didn’t believe it. She hadn’t smelled the fragrance since leaving Baldur’s Gate, and even then it was a bit of a rarity. The cloister had bottles upon bottles upon bottles of wine, but not nearly enough of this to sate Shadowheart’s thirst.
Or quench her lethargy.
Coffee. the Sharran’s brow furrowed as she identified the smell beyond a shadow of a doubt. It was a carafe of warm coffee, still sitting where it had been left when its owner was forced to flee. Stealing a potentially dead person’s coffee might have felt a bit tactless, but Shadowheart had done the man the grace of killing the gnolls that had invaded his house, so it seemed only fair.
She glanced down at the bludgeoned monster’s corpse and rolled her eyes, before grabbing the carafe of coffee, sealing the lid, and slipping it into her pack.
“What was that?” Wyll asked, curiously.
“Just coffee, if you must know.” Shadowheart explained, a bit more cattily than was necessary. It wasn’t as if she was a caffeine addict, but she wasn’t too keen on sharing anyway. Not to mention, it wasn’t as if they needed to know everything she pocketed.
“Huh.” Wyll glanced around, “Didn’t realize you were a fan of the stuff. If they had a mug, they might have beans around. Could try to find a brewing set, too.”
“Isn’t it better to travel light?” Shadowheart mused, “Do we really want to add a small alchemy lab to our pack? Don’t tell me the Blade of Frontiers is addicted to coffee.”
“I wouldn’t say no to a cup, every now and then.” he smiled before ducking into the kitchen. It was a relatively small house and in an isolated part of the region. It made the couple living inside helpless to the gnolls that had torn through. Getting chased from their homes wasn’t the fate they deserved (probably), but the world was a cruel place.
It was ignorant to hope otherwise.
If they were lucky they had ended up somewhere safe, and not inside various gnoll stomachs.
“Did somebody say ‘coffee’?” Gale poked his head in the front door, drawing a weary sigh from Shadowheart.
“There was a bit more to it than that, but it sounds like you got the important bit.” Shadowheart said, sardonically, “A fan, are we?”
“More of a jilted lover, I would say. I keep crawling back to the stuff.” Gale admitted, guiltily, “I used to-” he was interrupted momentarily as Lae’zel shouldered past him through the doorway, her face a mask of silent focus, “-used to live off the stuff. Late nights pouring through manuscripts, early mornings cramming for evaluations; coffee got me through it all.”
“Mh.” Shadowheart smiled, “Perhaps there’s a god of coffee you should pray to. At least that way you might avoid the caffeine headaches.”
“Oi!” Wyll called from the kitchen, “I found it!”
Shadowheart rolled her eyes as Gale excitedly strode past her into the kitchen. The cleric joined them a second later, finding a full slow-pour brewer, a bag of coffee beans, a hand-cranked grinder, and a kettle all ready. Everything needed to make a cup of coffee.
“Want to take it with us?” Wyll asked, more to Gale than Shadowheart.
“I certainly won’t say no.”
“What? You want to lug around a five pound bag of beans all day?” Shadowheart glanced at the burlap sack, then to her companions, “If you’re both so desperate, why don’t we just brew a few cups here and now and then move on?”
“Hmm…” Gale stroked his chin, “I suppose that does make sense. Though I must admit, I’m rather hopeless at brewing the stuff myself.” he met their eyes one after the other, seeming to interpret a question that neither asked, “Enchanted coffee maker. Never leave home without it, unless you are kidnapped by a group of mindflayers!”
“I’m afraid I’ve never-”
“Oh, just let me handle it, then.” Shadowheart rolled her eyes, before carefully slipping past the two, “Ask the Gith if she wants a cup. Assuming she even knows what it is.”
“Most appreciated, Shadowheart!” Gale smiled, “I’ll just take mine black, by the way.”
“Bit of cream, if possible.” Wyll winced at the side-eye he received, “Know what? Let me make sure they’ve got cream, first.”
“Excellent idea.” Shadowheart smiled, sarcastically.
She set about loading the beans into the grinder and carefully powderizing them to a thin, fine, uniform sand. It released a rich and rather intoxicating smell that instantly brought her back to… well, not ‘simpler’ days at the cloister, but certainly differently difficult days. Dark halls, purple flames, cloaked figures… cups of coffee.
It almost felt comical now.
She rummaged around in the couple’s shelves before eventually finding a few measuring spoons, using them to scoop the coffee grounds into a paper filter in the drip brewer. She couldn’t remember exact quantities, but four level scoops seemed like a decent amount.
Shadowheart couldn’t help but wonder what the couple who owned the house would think if they came back to find a load of dead gnolls and their coffee supplies tucked into. Would they think the gnolls had brewed themselves a few cups, or just that a few wayward adventurers had broken in, killed the gnolls and then had a quick nip? Either way was strange, but-
“Sharite.”
Shadowheart’s shoulders slumped.
“Yes, Lae’zel?”
“Explain this drink to me. ‘Coffee’. I found Gale’s explanation to be far too romanticized to be trustworthy.” Shadowheart could definitely understand that. “The Githyanki have no concept of beverage that sharpens the mind. Is this some sort of narcotic?”
“It’s addictive, so in a sense…” Shadowheart shrugged as she carefully began pouring hot water over the grounds, watching as the drip of water shifted from clear and brownish to thick, dark, and rich, “It helps you wake up in the morning and helps you stay alert.”
“What is the drawback?” Lae’zel asked, suspiciously.
“Depends on who you ask.” Shadowheart threw her a weary smile, “Some people it has no effect on. Some people it has too much of an effect on. And some people are affected by it, just… not in the usual way.”
“Curious.” Lae’zel leaned against the doorframe, looking completely out of place in the kitchen in her heavy, plated armor, “What effect does it have on you?”
“The usual.” Shadowheart shrugged, “But if I drink too much I…” she trailed off, catching herself before she revealed needless amounts of information, “Well, let’s just say I shouldn’t drink too much.”
“Of course not!” Gale called from the living room, “You shouldn’t drink too much of anything! ‘Too much’ is exactly that quantity which is excessive.” he attempted to appear in the doorway, but was largely blocked by Lae’zel, “Too much water is bad for you. As is-”
“As is too long of an explanation.” Shadowheart gave him a soft, gentle look that told him to go away and patiently wait for his coffee, “Black, you said?”
“Sorry. Indeed. Afraid I enjoy the sound of my own voice too much. An excessive amount. I-”
“If you keep yammering on like this, I’m never going to give you a sip. Understand?” Shadowheart asked, a bit sharply. The wizard vanished an instant later, his voice appearing in distant, hushed conversation with Wyll’s.
“I will try some.” Lae’zel said, as if swearing an oath to some powerful ruler.
“I see.” Shadowheart glanced back at her, “How strong would you like it?”
“How ‘strong’?”
“The darker, the stronger. Not everyone can handle pure black coffee like Gale. I-”
“I am no weakling! Fix me the strongest coffee!” Lae’zel crossed her arms, face hardening as she heaped the challenge on herself. Shadowheart thought for a moment of explaining a bit more, then caught herself.
She turned away, wrestling a smile off her face as she hatched an idea.
“Of course, Lae’zel.” she murmured, “Whatever. you. desire.”
“Mmmh!” Gale smiled as the hot, fragrant steam of the coffee lifted off the cup and into the air before him, “Smells most excellent, Shadowheart! Just like my enchanted coffee set used to make! Granted, I can’t imagine the beans available to a couple living in the quiet countryside can match what was available in Waterdeep, but I doubt I’ll care!”
“Good.” she turned away, “Wyll. You found the cream.” Shadowheart noted as her companion produced a jug from next to his chair. They had all pulled up around a small, square table in the living room, taking a momentary break from their adventure to just… act like normal people.
Shadowheart felt a strange pang of loneliness as she realized this was probably what it was like to have normal friends. People to relax with. People to spend time with. The cloister encouraged relationships, but not in any sort of innocent way. They were always about power-plays, manipulation, debt, and favors.
It was never just about… enjoying people’s company.
At least, not in a platonic way.
“Nothing personal, Shadow, I just like to add it myself.” Wyll smiled, “So I kept it hidden.”
“Particular, are we?” Shadowheart cocked an eyebrow at him.
“Hm? No! I just like to watch it swirl in. Don’t you think it’s beautiful?” he carefully added a few drops of milk to the black liquid, watching as they each blossomed into a brown-white cloud. It only took a second for them to spread and fill the cup with uniform color, but Wyll watched the entire time with rapt attention.
“Mind if I have a splash?” Shadowheart took the jug as it was offered, “Thank you.” she glanced at Lae’zel, who was studying her own mug with narrow eyes, “Not what you expected?”
“It smells quite potent. Powerful.” she observed, “Is this as strong as you could make it?”
“Yes, it should be… quite something.” Shadowheart held back a smile as she studied the cup. The water had seeped through a veritable mountain of grounds to reach the cup, to the point each drop was like a thick, rich bead of pure oil. A lovely, brown foam sat at the top, promising pure and utter depth. Darkness. Intensity. Shadowheart had certainly never made such a strong cup before and she was almost scared to know what it would do to the Githyanki.
Still, she was quite curious.
“Cheers!” Gale lifted his mug in a toast that the others reciprocated. Even Lae’zel joined in, having been taught the custom over the course of many, many meals. Though she had simply taken to saying ‘indeed’ instead of ‘cheers’, no doubt finding the latter phrase far too familial.
Gale took a long, indulgent sip, before releasing it with a satisfied sigh.
“Aaah! It’s quite perfect, Shadowheart! If the Shar worship doesn’t work out, you’d make an excellent brewer!” he said, speaking far too genuinely for Shadowheart to be annoyed by his belittling flattery.
“And if the ‘wizard’ thing doesn’t work out, perhaps you could be my waiter.”
“He’d spend far too much time talking customer’s ears off.” Wyll teased from across the table.
“Now, now. A strong social ethic is important in that line of work.” Gale reasoned, “Which is why it’s ill-suited to me. I can speak to you all just fine, but perfect strangers? I’m afraid that could become rather taxing.”
“Coulda fooled me.” Wyll took a sip of his own coffee, “You talked to us just fine when we first met.”
“Intellectual curiosity and mortal necessity will do that to a person.” Gale explained, his face going deadly serious as he tried to impress upon them how awkward he was, “This may come as a surprise to you all, but with the exception of my close friend, Tara, I didn’t have many ‘associates’ in Waterdeep.”
“So, you don’t have any friends?” Shadowheart asked, bluntly, finding the revelation rather amusing, “Other than a cat?”
“Tara is far more than a ‘cat’, I assure you!” Gale insisted, “A ‘cat’ cannot help you research magical theorem! A ‘cat’ cannot hold a steady conversation with you for hours on end. To call her a cat is to call me a hairless monkey.” he took a breath, “But, to your earlier point: no. I don’t have many friends. My circle of friends is really more of a line.” he held up a finger, “Me.” he held up another, “Tara.”
Wyll held up his own finger, “Wyll. That’s a triangle of friends, now.”
“I would add myself in, but I don’t think we need to get that poignant this early in the morning.” Shadowheart said, from behind her own mug. She sipped it daintily, finding that it was surprisingly nice given the standards it was brewed by. A full, dark flavor, a decent texture, a pleasing fragrance; it was… satisfying. “So-”
“I do not see you as a friend, Gale, but as an ally in battle you have proven yourself worthy of my company. Githyanki do not waste their time cultivating such thin connections as those of ‘friendship’, at least not Githyanki who wish to one day be kith’rak. Additionally, it really does you no good to mope about your lack of interpersonal bonds, when they would likely only slow you down. As a wizard, it is in your best interest to spend your time studying and researching, that you may grow stronger. Wiser. More erudite. There are secrets to learn for one such as yourself; power to unlock. Even an army would be helpless against a powerful enough wizard. It is a smoldering frustration in my core; an irksome inevitability that I am unable to pull myself free from. That you have a mastery over the Weave - one that I will never know - grinds at my teeth like a whetstone dulling a blade. Were I in possession of half the magical power you possessed, I would serve my Queen even better than I can now. I am limited to slicing through my opponents one at a time, while you can dispatch entire battalions with a wave of your hand. Tsk’va! To think you possess such raw, unknowable power in such an unimpressive, untrained body is infuriating! To think you might one day be able to destroy me with a flick of your wrist is enough to drive me to madness! Such reasons are why I must become kith’rak! A dragon would be able to grant me the devastating power I need to trample my enemies in Vlaakith’s name! Once I have my crimson steed, there would be little you could do to stop me! I would become as death on scarlet wings! Tsk’va! We waste time! I must be cleansed, that I may earn Vlaakith’s favor and ascend! Why do we sit around drinking this thin, feeble liquid, reminiscing? Tas’ki! We should move! There is ground to cover! There are enemies to slay! We must find battle! I crave blood! Are there any gnolls left? They would know my wrath!”
Before anyone could get a word in edgewise, Lae’zel was up and out the door, leaving behind a totally empty cup. They were vaguely aware of the sound of her storming around the perimeter of the property, growling, grunting, and muttering to herself, but none of them were particularly interested in seeing if she was - broadly speaking - ‘okay’.
“So,” Wyll took another sip of his coffee, “think she liked it?”