Aleysia sat in front of the fireplace, feeling warm and comfortable. The clothes the servants had provided her after the bath were of exceptional quality—the material soft, warm, and soothing against her skin.
One of the servants helped guide her to where Medusa was waiting. "Ariadne?" Aleysia said as she stepped into the warm room, filled with the fresh scent of herbs.
"Yes, I'm here," Medusa replied, her voice making Aleysia feel giddy. "Help her sit," she instructed the servant.
The servant led Aleysia to a sofa, and as she sank into the plush, enveloping embrace of the cosy armchair positioned in front of the crackling fireplace, Aleysia couldn't help but exclaim, "Wow."
She had never experienced such a comfortable seat before. Aleysia could feel the warmth radiating from the fireplace, chasing away the lingering chill and making her reluctant to leave the house and venture back out into the increasingly cold air.
As Aleysia sipped her tea, the warmth of the liquid slowly permeated her body. But then, her keen senses, heightened by years of blindness, detected a different scent wafting from Medusa's direction. "What are you drinking?" she asked.
"Tea, same as you," Medusa replied.
"The scent is different than mine," Aleysia observed, prompting a smile from Medusa.
"It's ironwort, a herbal tea," she explained.
"Can I also drink that? Or I can't?" Aleysia asked again; her curiosity piqued.
"You can," Medusa reassured her. "I was not sure the taste would suit you."
"I can try; I won't spit, I promise," Aleysia said sweetly, causing Medusa to smile and beckon the servant to pour Aleysia the same tea as her own.
Bernard, the loyal servant of Medusa, took great care in preparing the ironwort tea that his mistress so dearly enjoyed. He knew every step of the process intimately, having perfected the ritual over the many years he had served Medusa.
With a practiced hand, Bernard carefully measures the dried leaves; their deep green hues and velvety textures are a proof of their great quality. He would then transfer the leaves to a traditional teapot, one that had been passed down through generations, its ceramic surface worn smooth by decades of use.
Medusa loves that teapot she found when she travelled to East Asia in the 1800s. She tried to have the tea in another teapot; however, the taste is totally different than the one she bought in East Asia. Since then, she has had all the servants that served her use the teapot when serving her tea.
Next, Bernard heated the water, ensuring it reached the perfect temperature—not too hot, lest it scald the delicate leaves, but hot enough to coax forth the full spectrum of flavours. As the water began to steam and bubble, he would pour it over the ironwort, the earthy, herbal aroma immediately filling the air.
Allowing the tea to steep for the precise amount of time, Bernard keeps a watchful eye, making sure to extract every nuance of flavour from the leaves. Once the steeping process was complete, Bernard carefully poured the rich, amber-hued liquid into another cup for Aleysia. Then he adds a slice of lemon and a touch of local honey; the sweet and tart flavours perfectly complement the complex, herbaceous character of the tea.
"Here's your tea, young lady." Bernard said while guiding Aleysia's hands to the cup, "It's hot; be careful."
The aroma of the ironwort tea wafting through the air immediately captivated Aleysia's senses as Bernard poured it into her cup. She leaned in slightly, her delicate nose twitching as she inhaled deeply, savouring the complex bouquet.
"You're talking like I'm from the royal family." Aleysia smile.
"It's a gesture of respect; it means he respects you, Aleysia." Medusa said.
"Thank you, Bernard." Aleysia smiles, her beautiful face filled with smiles, even though her eyes are lifeless.
"Are you blind since birth or?" Medusa ask.
"I was blind when I was seventeen; I got a fever, and it was too late to save my eyes." Aleysia answered, Medusa can still see the pain behind Aleysia's smile. There's something behind her words, something she hides, and for once, Medusa wants to meddle with these mortal problems.
Aleysia silently took every note of the tea in her hands; the scent was earthy and herbaceous, with a subtle floral undertone that reminded Aleysia of the wildflowers that bloomed in the meadows near her childhood home. There was a peppery, almost balsamic quality to the fragrance that tickled her nostrils, hinting at the powerful medicinal properties of the ironwort leaves.
She could discern the vibrant, verdant notes of the freshly plucked leaves, as well as the deeper, more resinous aroma of the dried herbs. Underneath it all, she detected the faint citrus and floral notes that she presumed came from the lemon and honey added to the brew.
Medusa stared at her closely; something about this young woman disturbed her inner peace. Cradling the warm cup in her hands, Aleysia could feel the heat radiating through the porcelain cup. She paused for a moment, allowing the steam to caress her face, the vapours carrying the scent of the tea directly to her eager senses.
Finally, Aleysia raised the cup to her lips, the rim touching her skin with a gentle warmth. She took a tentative sip, allowing the liquid to linger on her tongue. The first impression was of a robust, earthy bitterness that danced across her palate, the sharp, herbal notes of the ironwort leaves asserting their presence. But as she continued to savour the tea, the flavours evolved, revealing a surprising depth and nuance.
The citrus notes from the lemon provided a welcome tartness that cut through the intensity of the ironwort, while the honey lent a subtle sweetness that perfectly balanced the brew. Aleysia could detect hints of camphor, mint, and even a faint, resinous undertone that she could only assume was the signature of the Mediterranean-grown ironwort.
"Oh, this is a very beautiful tea," Aleysia said softly, a delicate blush colouring her cheeks after taking a sip.
"How so?" Medusa enquired, her gaze upon the young woman.
"The fragrance is so complex and fresh—I've never encountered anything like it before. And the taste—I can discern so many nuances—the sweetness, the hints of mint, and a subtle bitterness that's so perfectly integrated into all those flavours," Aleysia responded animatedly.
"I take it that you like it, then?" Medusa asked, a warm smile gracing her features.
"Yes! But I don't want to take it home," Aleysia quickly added, before Medusa could say anything further.
"Why not?" Medusa pressed, her curiosity piqued.
"This tea—not everyone can brew it as well as this and coax out all its flavour, not unless it's Bernard," Aleysia explained, her face brightening with a smile. "I think he's the one who makes this ironwort taste so amazing."
Aleysia's words filled Bernard with a profound sense of happiness and pride, and Medusa was delighted to hear such wisdom from the young woman. It was a rare thing to find such discernment in one so young, as Medusa had sometimes observed in the foolishness of her own servant, Timothy.
But the young woman before her spoke with the care and insight of someone far beyond her years, and Medusa couldn't help but feel a growing fondness blossoming within her.
"Thank you for the kind words, young lady. You have made this old man very happy," Bernard said, his voice warm with gratitude.
"You're welcome, Bernard," Aleysia replied with a smile, then turned her attention to Medusa. "And so, Ariadne, may I visit you again? When I want to hear the whale sounds?"
Medusa's life had been lonely and dull for centuries, yet it had also been filled with a profound sense of peace. She no longer had to contend with the jealous girlfriends or the psychotic men who had once chased her relentlessly, their obsession threatening to consume her.
Bernard could sense the hesitation in the air; he knows his mistress all too well. Medusa has been living in seclusion for all centuries, after she brought her life back on her feet and then she found Anthony Johnson, centuries after she finally found her peace. It had taken her many, many years to finally find the peace she so desperately craved.
In all the long history of the Johnson family, there had never been a man or woman who had been able to capture Medusa's interest. She was always quick to cut them off the moment they became too close, unwilling to risk the pain and betrayal that had once almost shattered her to dust.
"I'm sorry, I was out of line," Aleysia said with a gentle smile, sensing the same longing in Medusa's voice that she had felt within herself. "We've only just met, and I don't think you'll be comfortable with me coming here so often."
The same hurt, the feeling of wanting to be with someone who will never betray her or take her for granted, is what she senses from Aleysia's word. And Medusa, to both her own and Bernard's surprise, found herself replying, "Of course, my dear. You are always welcome here."
The words had tumbled from Medusa's lips before she could even think to stop them, and as she saw the joy blossoming on Aleysia's face, she knew she could not take them back. There was something about this young woman, with her wisdom and sensitivity, that somehow managed to break through the carefully constructed walls that Medusa had built around her heart.
Whatever the reason, Medusa found herself drawn to Aleysia in a way she had not experienced in centuries. The weight of her lonely existence seemed to lift, if only for a moment, as she watched the young woman in front of her. Aleysia's presence, however fleeting, had the power to fill the void that had long haunted Medusa's soul, offering her a glimpse of the connection and companionship she had so desperately craved.