Fantasy Whispers of Etruria

[Mooniee]

“You called for me?” Lyra stood in the doorway of her mentor’s cabin. Vines wove intricately through the branches that formed the arch. The cabin itself was quaint but packed with the wisdom and history that the elder had collected through the centuries. Books lined every wall, only making a gap for a fireplace. A large oak desk sat in the middle scattered with scrolls and papyrus where the elf himself sat.

Galan looked up from the book he had been reading, setting it down before standing. His azure eyes brightened as he spoke, “Lyra! Hello, my child. Please, take a seat.” Lyra made her way to one of the plush seats in front of the lit fireplace. She had spent many hours in this exact seat, sipping tea and pouring over ancient texts. However, Galan rarely called for her outside of their usual meeting times - what did he have to discuss? She hoped her face did not betray her nerves.

Lyra folded her hands in her lap to keep from fidgeting as she waited for him to speak. As Galan made his way over to take his seat, he plucked a scroll from the many on his desk to bring with him. “Lyra, you have been a wonderful student. However, I feel that I have taught you all I can.”

Lyra shot up out of her seat. “Master Galan, that’s ridiculous! I haven’t learned even half of what you know!”

Galan raised a hand to silence her argument. “I wasn’t finished. Much of what I have learned can only be taught through experiences. While you may have spent days’ worth of time studying the texts, you are woefully inexperienced when it comes to the world outside our village. You’re so young, you need time to explore. Make mistakes. This village keeps you much too sheltered. If I did not send you out, I would only be stunting your growth.”

At his words, Lyra needed to take her seat. Was he forcing her to leave the village? Where would she go? While she had taken trips to run errands for Galan, she certainly never expected to make a life out there! “But where will I go?” She asked softly.

Galan smiled as he extended the scroll he was holding to her. “A messenger delivered this yesterday. It is a request from the palace. Supposedly, there is a prince in need of a servant. You would act as not only an advisor but a bodyguard. They entrusted me with choosing who would fulfill the role and I could not think of anyone more suited for it than you.”

—

Now, Lyra stood on the steps to the palace. Even her arrival had been a surreal experience. Knights fiercely guarded the entrance to the grounds until she could convince them that she belonged there. Finally, they had relinquished when one of the guards recognized her name.

Placing the trunks holding her belongings on the ground, she raised the heavy knocker to one of the many doors. Letting it fall, it made a solid ‘thud’, marking the beginning of her new life.

 

[Alichroma]

Skye let out a loooong yawn as he rose from his bed, stretching deeply as he pulled himself into a sitting position. A soft mumble escaped his lips as he tried to blink away the drowsiness that lingered in his eyes, to little success. He stayed sat up on his bed, silently debating if he should dive under the inviting silks once more... The curtains of his windows were drawn, letting only the stray beam of light enter the oversized bedroom... If his attendants didn't wake him then... there probably wasn't anything that desperately needed done. Something gnawed at him though... he was sure he was forgetting something.

He flopped back onto the veritable sea of deep blue fabric, bushy lavender tail gently sweeping across the bed to and fro. Despite how desperately he wanted to drift back into the warmth of his covers, that feeling wouldn't leave him be. The young prince grumbled more under their breath, scooching off the mattress and opening the translucent curtains that enveloped it. His feet landed on the rug that bordered the bed, where he quickly slid on a pair of slippers. Skye's room, much like most of the castle, was floored with stone tile.

Skye trudged over to his dresser, doffing his night clothes and sliding into more proper attire. A pale blue tunic, embroidered with fine white stitching, and a matching jacket that extended half-way down his thighs, with plenty of frills surrounding the shoulders, chest, and edges. It was when he had just finished putting on his pants, a much more muted shade of blue, he heard a heavy knocking on his door.

He breathed a gentle sigh of relief. Having a conversation with one of the castle's servants would surely clear away this feeling that held firm in his chest. He didn't bother putting on his fancy shoes or fixing his hair. After all, the attendants of the castle had seen him in all manor of grogginess before. The few cowlicks that dotted his fuzzy hair wouldn't bother them.

"Coming!" Skye called out. Even with his voice raised to pierce through the thick wooden door leading to the hall, his voice was naturally gentle. The servants occasionally jested that since he had no siblings to fight with, he never got practice harshening his tone. He slowly walked over to the door, unlatching the top and twisting the firm metal doorknob. With a tug, he pulled the door inwards, welcoming whoever greeted him with a warm smile.

...Skye froze in place. The woman who greeted them at the door was unfamiliar... Slightly taller than him, with long ears and a much less disheveled appearance. There was a bitter irony as, the woman at the door had in fact reminded the prince of the matter he was to attend to today. Welcoming his new mentor and guardian. The initial shock that covered his face was quickly replaced by embarrassment, as a healthy hue of pink spread across his fair cheeks.

"A-Ah... You're not- You're... J-Just a second please!" Not wanting to be rude, he didn't entirely shut the door on her face, just gently nudged it a bit further to obscure himself quickly dashing back to the dresser, and hastily brushing down his hair. The door sloowly creeped back open in time to show him awkwardly walking back, his hair mostly tamed.

"A-Ahem. You... wouldn't happen to be the guardian my father sent for...would you?" He opened the door a bit further beckoning her inside.

"I'm Skye, Skye Hresvelg. It's nice to meet you." The prince bowed his head slightly, really hoping the woman in front of him would conveniently forget her first impression if he acted nice enough. "Would... you like to come in?"

 

[Mooniee]

The voice that floated through from the other side of the thick door surprised her. Lyra didn’t know what she expected the voice of a prince to sound like - perhaps gruffer? She had been made aware of the prince’s age but she couldn’t stop her imagination from creating an image straight out of a folktale. Tall, strong, stoic, skilled with a sword. If those assumptions were true, why would the king need to ensure his son’s protection? Maybe his Majesty was overly cautious, there was only a single heir after all.

Her attention was forced back to reality with the distinct ka-chunk of the wooden door being unlatched. With the opening of the door, many of Lyra’s questions were answered. Expecting to look up, she was met with empty air rather than the prince’s gaze. Slowly, she lowered her gaze to find the prince she would be attending to. Rather than the tall, handsome, elegant prince, stood a man slightly shorter than herself. Cowlicks speckled his hair - the color of blooming lavender, sticking up in every angle. Two soft ears delicately poked out from the mess of curls. A dusting of pink quickly overtook his face before he quickly pushed the door somewhat closed.

Lyra’s lips twitched into a smile and a few giggles slipped out. Luckily, she seemed to be alone in the hallway as she knew her mentor would frown upon laughing at a member of the royal family. As she heard the squeak of the door slowly opening itself, she composed her demeanor once more, lest she offend the prince in the first few minutes of meeting him.

The prince that met her at the door this time seemed to be much more put together. It led her to wonder if his bedhead was what would be greeting her every morning for the foreseeable future. She pinched each side of her skirt - a sage green silk embroidered with silver lilies - and lowered into a curtsey Bowing her head, she said, “Yes, Your Highness. I am Lyra Trawarin, it is an honor to serve you.”

His Highness’ offer for her to enter caught her somewhat off guard. She had expected to meet in a throne room or a study after retrieving the prince. Entering the prince’s chambers, Lyra had to resist the urge to look around. She wanted to take in the opulence of a royal bedroom. Instead, she kept her eyes on Skye. “Thank you, sir. I was informed that I was to serve not only as a guard but a trusted advisor. I hope to serve Your Highness well.”

 

[Alichroma]

Skye bowed his head in turn as she introduced herself. She certainly knew how to make a good impression, if she had seemed dismayed by his initial appearance, she didn't show it in the slightest. Lyra's formality eased his nerves at the very least, and his tail that had initially remained frozen began to gently sway once more. The way she had introduced herself, and her overall composure reminded him of some of the other servants in the castle, and it made him feel at home. Well, more at home. Her outfit was very different from the fashion at the castle though. The muted green was a clear contrast from the hues of deep blues and purples the Hresvelg family proudly displayed throughout the castle.

"It's nice to meet you too, Miss Lyra!" He happily chirped out. With most of his anxieties calmed, his face beamed with a soft radiance. "I have to admit, I... was not expecting you this early. Usually one of the housemaids - Her name is Kamila and she's super kind - wakes me up if there's something requiring my attention..." He walked backwards into his room, making room for Lyra to enter his room as he continued. "I ah... thought you were her to be honest. You knock similarly." He smiled weakly, still bashful about his initial appearance. "B-But, its nice to meet you all the same."

Once Lyra had fully entered the room, he softly closed the door behind her, before taking his original position in front of his guest. The bedroom was incredibly spacious, the biggest thing of note was the grandiose bed opposite the entrance. A thin, semi-translucent white curtain enveloped the bed. It was still partially open, allowing a clearer view at the dark wood that encompassed the bedframe, and the deep blue blankets that coated the egregiously large bed. It didn't take an astute eye to notice how disheveled the covers appeared to be.

To the side lay a large dresser, hairbrush threatening to spill over onto the tile of the room, and in the corner to the right of the entrance was a small sitting area. There lay a comparatively humble wooden table, with a few cushioned stools around it. It was there that Skye guided his new advisor. He once again walked backwards to it, seemingly not wanting to take his eyes off the stranger. "My father told me that you would be teaching me more practical skills." Skye quickly peeked back to make sure he wasn't about to trip over his own seat. "Now that I'm of age, he wants to make sure my education is more than just whatever dusty tomes Chronicler Adol can find."

"Father said... you'd be able to teach me swordplay and... magic." He spoke the last word with an intensity, as though it were some forbidden technique. The mischievous grin on his face implied that he was more than ok with that. His eyebrows raised suddenly. It completely slipped his mind to be courteous to his new guest. Kamila would be wincing if she could see him. "Ah! Would you like anything to drink, Miss Lyra? We've got all sorts of teas and juices. Alcohol too if you like that sort of thing."

 

[Mooniee]

The swishing of Skye’s lavender tail caught Lyra’s attention. It was a small movement, but it led her to wonder if the prince was starting to feel more at ease. She was surprised that she had caught him so off guard earlier. Had she really arrived so early? Now that she had thought about it, she had arrived as the sky only had a pale dusting of pink. The palace was so grand she thought she may need plenty of time to find her bearings. By the time her items were whisked away to her new dwelling and she had been escorted to the prince’s chambers, the sun had surely risen. Still, she made a mental note that early-morning lessons would most likely not be on the table.

“I apologize for arriving so early,” Lyra said, “I suppose I overestimated my travel time.” At the mention of his servant Kamila, she tried to backtrack through the countless names and faces she had encountered in her short time in the palace. The name Kamila didn’t seem familiar but she was sure that she would speak with her sooner rather than later if only for scheduling purposes.

As she entered the room, she resisted the urge to swivel her head to look at everything. She had never been somewhere so… regal. Of course, the bed caught her eye. How could it not? It easily could fit 4 people. The curtains that shrouded the bed made it seem to be enveloped in a cloud. She wanted to reach out and touch them, feel what fabric they were made of but instead kept her hands firmly clasped in front of her. The blue covers were strewn every which way. Lyra only then realized, princes probably didn’t make their own beds, did they? It was a morning ritual for most, but if you had a team of maids, why would you bother?

As she was led to the wooden table, she couldn’t help but feel somewhat nervous under the gaze of those piercing blue eyes. It wasn’t easy to forget that she was in the presence of a future king and the last thing she wanted was to disappoint Galan. What if it was determined she wasn’t experienced enough to serve the prince? She couldn’t return to her village as a failure. She clasped her trembling hands tighter to still them.

Lyra eased herself onto the stool. The cushion was soft but not so soft that one would sink into it. The table in front of her surprised her. Who knew that a castle this ornate could hold a piece of furniture so plain? Of course, the wood was still of high quality but compared to the rest of the room, it seemed like something she would have in her own home.

One of her eyebrows quirked up at Skye’s grin. Hopefully, he wasn’t under the impression that magic was something that you could play around with as if it were some party trick. Galan had made sure from an early age that Lyra took the gifts she had seriously, lest she misuse them. She opened her mouth to give Skye the same lecture she had heard from Galan at least a hundred times when the prince spoke up, offering her a drink. “Tea would be lovely,” she responded, “Do you have any chamomile or rose?” Something to settle her nerves. She realized it was probably a silly question, surely the palace of all places would have such common teas.

Lyra let out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. She hated to admit it, but Galan was right. There was certainly a lot she hadn’t experienced in life outside the village and this was certainly one of them. Of course, she would never tell her mentor that in the letters that she sent, but Lyra was sure he knew anyway.

 

[Alichroma]

Skye kept a watchful eye on her as she followed behind him. She was so formal... and she seemed so much more traveled than the maids, and certainly himself. Her ears were especially of note. There were a small handful of different races throughout the castle, but none with features like hers. Part of him wondered to himself which of the two of them had better hearing... but then something caught his attention, ripping him away from his idle thoughts. Though he was happy to meet her, he could feel that something was off about her.

The smile on his face dimmed slightly. The mischievous grin he had fading to a more reserved, polite, and manufactured smile. It was his default when he was speaking to someone with formality. It was a wonderful technique to hide the pout he might otherwise be sporting. Something that had been taught to him incredibly early. His only job for the last 18 years was to study and talk to people, whether that be his servants, or politics. It was no small wonder then, that he could tell Lyra was acting odd. His eyes slowly scanned her as she spoke.

"It is quite alright," he started. The Prince's voice was formal, but softer than before. "Punctuality is something to be praised, and I'm happy that you arrived safely." He kept his eyes mostly on hers, trying to be polite. But then, with a quick flick of his eyes, he saw them- her hands. They were tense. Held incredibly taut. Was she... holding in anger? No, he doubted that. He was fairly certain she bore him no ill will. King Eldigan was very particular in finding a tutor, he wouldn't have let someone with disdain towards the crowd slip through. So what was it? Then he remembered. Remembered that, despite his attempts to be friendly, he was still a prince. The crown prince. He had seen those miniscule gestures before during the times he attended court with his father, or the very rare time he got to see a traveler from afar.

She was nervous.

The Prince's ears dropped slightly. He was happy to meet his new tutor, to learn the things he'd always wanted to learn... but knowing even his instructor had a baseline fear of him disheartened him. Still... it was all the more reason to get her the tea she wanted. Normally he would have sent for a maid, but he knew he could do it himself if he tried.

"Y-You said chamomile right? I should I have some in my room here." For a mercy, chamomile was one of the teas he frequently had. He wouldn't need to send for a servant, and he was quite glad about that. More people might make Lyra even more nervous. Skye raised himself from his stool somewhat abruptly, walking over to a small nightstand near his bed. He gently tugged at a handle on the side, swinging a mini-door open to a small cupboard. He retrieved a small metal pitcher, as well as the aforementioned chamomile.

"Well..." He spoke out as he started to walk back. "I suppose if you're going to be teaching me magic, you should know something about me." Skye sat back down on his stool and laid down the pitcher and a delicate jar of chamomile. Judging from the gentle sloshing coming from the pitcher, it still seemed to have some water in it. "I actually know a tiny bit of magic already...Let me show you..."

Skye grabbed the metal pitcher with his left hand, raising it higher, and holding it away from the table. He moved his right hand under it, facing his palm towards the container. Closing his eyes, he tried to think of heat. Imagining a warmth spreading from his heart, to his arms, and then to his palm. Then, he forced it out. A small flame erupted from his hands, though it was uneven. It occasionally shifted intensity, growing smaller and larger as the Prince's grasp of the magic waned and waxed. Despite all the effort and focus he put into summoning the fire, it wasn't particularly impressive It was an aggressive, and novice way to manipulate magic. It wasn't a controlled release, and certainly not efficient. Skye had essentially done the magical equivalent of getting a glass of water by battering down a dam and holding the glass out to catch whatever water came rushing forth.

But to his credit, the pitcher did start to heat up. and he hadn't set anything else on fire. "S-See? I can make fire..." Skye's voice was strained, the focus on the "spell" he was maintaining was clearly taking up most of his attention.

 

[Mooniee]

Lyra was surprised to see the prince himself stand from his stool to retrieve the tea. It just didn’t fit the image she had had. She had expected Skye to ring an ornate golden bell, the chime delicate but just loud enough to alert the nearest castle staff who would immediately rush in to fulfill his request. Instead, the prince seemed to be making her tea! Should she interrupt, say that it was alright and she could make it herself? At the same time, she had heard that royal tutors were held in higher regard than other staff. What to do? Castle etiquette was completely foreign to her.
She was still arguing with herself by the time the prince returned with the pitcher. There didn’t seem to be a fire lit anywhere to warm the water - would she be having cold chamomile? Maybe she should have declined his offer after all…

His mention of magic drew her attention away from her inner monologue. The prince claimed to already know some magic. How much? Perhaps it was more than she had initially expected and there wouldn’t be much for the prince to learn from her. Galan hadn’t mentioned the prince knowing any magic - wouldn’t that be public knowledge by now?

Lyra watched intently as the prince raised the pitcher and closed his eyes. He looked so concentrated. Surely, there would be a large reaction as a result. In preparation for what she thought would be an inferno, Lyra pushed her stool backward and held her breath in anticipation. “Your Highness, I’m not sure that is the best area to do such a thing,” She began to argue. Most of the furniture, including the large table she was near, was made almost entirely of wood.

Soon after she spoke, a small flame erupted from his hand. Skye’s face didn’t seem to relax but rather became more twisted in focus. Using a candle to heat the pitcher would have been less effort at that rate. At least she knew that she would still have a job to do. Although, fire magic was not even close to her specialty. Shed would have to find the castle library when night fell to research. Perhaps, she could send Galan a letter for him to send any materials he may have on the subject.

Skye’s strained voice combined with his expression caused laughter to bubble up. The elf attempted to hold it back but soon lost. A series of giggles overtook her and she struggled to form words between them. “I’m so sorry Your Highness,” she apologized as tears from laughter stung her eyes. “You… You just looked so focused! I thought for sure this place would be burning down.” She wiped away what tears spilled over. “Really, you did wonderfully,” Lyra tried to encourage. “It is more helpful than you realize that you have a baseline knowledge already.”

Approaching Skye, she gently took the metal pitcher from the prince’s hand and set it on the table. Carefully, she measured out the chamomille to steep in the water. As she measured, she realized, her hands were no longer trembling. Something about seeing the prince try so hard had settled her nerves. Or was it the laughter? Either way, her hand was now still as she placed a singular dried bud into it. Closing it, she imagined what the flower had looked like before it had been plucked and dried out. Delicate white petals. A bright yellow center. She brought the closed fist to her mouth and pressed her lips to it.

When she opened her fist once more, the bud had seemingly returned to its previous state. The once dry and brittle thing became velvety smooth again. Lyra presented the returned flower to the prince with a soft smile. “While our talents are seemingly different, the same theory binds them. I promise to do everything in my power to facilitate your growth.”

 

[Alichroma]

Skye had intended to heat the water a bit further, but the laughter that erupted from Lyra broke the focus he had managed to maintain up to that point. The flame in his palm flickered out instantly as the fuel that maintained it was cut off. Initially the prince recoiled at the laughter. He'd tried so hard to summon that flame... was it not good enough? His eyebrows raised, preemptively leading to a pout... but before his own anxieties had time to take root his instructor spoke up.

He let out a sigh of relief... she wasn't laughing maliciously it seemed. "I... have had a few close calls while I practiced this in private... but I dare not show it to anyone besides the servants I have known since birth." As Lyra took the metal pitcher from him, he hadn't even realized his own hand was trembling. Partially from holding the pitcher aloft while focusing, partially from the nerves of showing something that personal to a relative stranger. "T-Thank you though."

Skye was silently grateful that she took over the process of making the tea. The specifics of how long to let it steep... how much to add... that he left for his servants. Still, as she held a singular dried bud, he tilted his head slightly. Surely they would need more than that for the two of them...? He stared in mild confusion as he watched her bring the closed fist to her lips. Perhaps it was a tradition for her? He scooched himself back into the table.

As she retracted her hand and opened it, revealing the restored blossom, the awe in his eyes was evident. "I... I did not know you could even do that... you... rejuvenated it." As she offered him the flower, he gratefully took it, holding it as though it would crumble if he looked at it too hard. Perhaps it was just the simple pleasure of receiving a flower from someone kind, but once more a soft smile spread across his lips. "Would you be able to teach me this power too?"

 

[Mooniee]

Lyra observed Skye for a moment, holding the flower so delicately in his hand. He seemed so intrigued by such a small trick. The flower would wilt much quicker than its freshly cut counterparts. For now, however, it made her happy to see how impressed the prince seemed to be.

Turning towards the open jar of chamomile, she went back to work on making tea for the two of them. Carefully, she placed the correct amount of the plant into the metal pitcher before placing the lid back onto the delicate jar. As she waited for the tea to steep, she contemplated the question asked. Would she be able to teach him how to revive a plant? If the prince were an elf, it wouldn't be too complicated. It was certainly much easier for her to explain than anything relating to fire. Something he had mentioned had bothered her, however. He wouldn't dare to show his power to anyone who he couldn't completely trust? Why was that? It was a sad idea of a young man, trying to practice his natural gifts alone in his chambers. Was it that he was afraid to show anyone else?

In her village, the discovery of one's gifts was to be celebrated, not stowed away. Parties, called echui ceremonui were held to mark the momentous milestone. Although, magic was much more common in elven villages than other areas. People surely expect for the crown prince to wield some sort of magic, wouldn't they? Perhaps the two would need to hold their own small echui ceremonui in the future to mark the beginning of his training.

For now, she chose to focus on Skye's want to learn the same power. Lyra pushed the container of chamomille towards him. "Let's try, shall we? Here, take one. Place it in your palm and carefully close your hand around. Imagine what it used to look like, what it used to feel like. Keep that image in your mind as you bring it to your lips. Then, breathe life into it." She tried to explain the process step-by-step, but it was impossible to explain the innate power that came with "breathing life" into something. It was more of a transfer of energy, one that could tire the user quite quickly depending on their skill level and the size of the plant. Even at her level, it would be impossible to grow a tree from a cut log.

Lyra stood once more, realizing the tea was ready. She filled each of their cups, decorated in gold and the deep blue that seemed to fill the palace. Careful not to spill the amber liquid, she placed the cup in front of Skye before returning to her own seat. Taking a sip from her own cup, she relished the soothing, slightly sweet tea. It wasn't nearly as good as her own blends (it definitely needed lemongrass and lavender), but it served its purpose of settling her nerves.

 

[Alichroma]

Something Skye took note of, was how careful and precise his instructor seemed to be. Each of her movements, even for simple tasks like removing the lid and pouring the tea seemed to be measured. It was hard for him to tell if it was her nerves keeping her that focused... or if she innately moved with that much care. It was a far cry from the messy, and spontaneous nature of both his prior appearance, and his magic.

He smiled softly as she prepared the tea though, and though faint, Lyra could overhear a faint humming coming from the Prince. It didn't seem to follow any melody, at least not a recognizable one. Just soft notes made to pass the time. Skye was content just to have company, it seemed. It had been a long while since he'd sat with someone new to drink tea with. Normally only certain servants would remain to pass the time with him, or his family on the rare occasions they were not busy. It had gotten worse of late though... the whole palace seemed to be busier, furrowed brows were growing increasingly common in the people whom Skye passed by in the halls. There seemed to be a general unease in the palace... Lyra was a refreshing personality in comparison.

Skye looked down at the chamomile tin pushed in front of him. "Ah... we're starting already?" He was a bit surprised, they hadn't even finished tea yet, but he didn't object, reaching to retrieve one of the dried bulbs. He placed it in his palm, trying to follow Lyra's example as best he could. He cast a quick glance down at the flower she'd restored earlier. It was nice to have an image supplied for him to focus on. The prince curled his fingers over the bud, then his eyes followed suit, and he raised his hand to his lips.

He paused. How did he breathe life into something? Was it like how he channeled his flames? He didn't want to set the thing on fire... Skye furrowed his otherwise delicate features into a mild pout as he considered it. He hadn't ever managed to get fire to emerge from anything other than his hands either...

Skye pushed his lips directly against the bulb. Maybe being as close as possible would help... even if it did look like he was trying to kiss the dead plant. He focused on the image of the flower Lyra had just restored... and breathed a gentle breath out.

"Fooooo~"

Skye exhaled carefully for a few seconds, before retracting his lips and opening his palm to see if anything had changed...

Nothing. He sighed softly. "I must admit, its harder to imagine moving energy through my lips than through my palms... Pray, what do you try to imagine when you move magic through your body?" He looked up to her for guidance already, though in the time he'd spent pondering his methodology, the tea had seemingly been prepared.

The pout on his face faded back into a smile as he laid the bulb down, and replaced it with the cup, smelling the aroma. "Gosh, Chamomile is quite relaxing to me. Usually I prefer to have it before bed... I hope it doesn't make me too sleepy." Despite his apparent concern, he didn't hesitate to bring the warm drink to his lips and sip at it. The gentle humming he'd made before returning after he'd taken his first sip.