brew-tea-ful

Bancha soaks up the information that Modesty relays to him. He watches as she speaks to the blind girl, his curiosity lingering on her disability. It wasn’t to be rude. No. The healer within him wants to poke, to prod, to figure out what had happened to curse the girl with such a thing.

Turmeric, mint, cinnamon, and lemongrass. Tucking away the notes for use later, Bancha grabs some of the stringy and tough plant with his teeth and drops it in his tortoiseshell. Almost instantly he is hit with an even stronger punch of citrus as he quickly leans back away from the steam that curls around his face. “Is it best to utilize these in teas or can they be used topically as well?” Bancha inquires, teal eyes looking up to Modesty.

BANCHA