Airs of Tea

 is considered a Hidden Quality Albion: Worlebury-juxta-Mare in Sunless Skies.

Hidden description
""

Obtaining
Hidden Qualities are used to track various things and are invisble to the player.

Quality status
 has different statuses according to your actions, defined by the comment in front of the quality.

Variable Interaction description
These desciptions appear when a specific group is called for text.

Tea

 * [ 0 ] Earl Green is the speciality here. Except for a vegetal aftertaste, a radish-y quality, it is mostly inoffensive. The tea room is industrial chic: white marble, black steel. Everyone is silent. Everyone but you is dressed precisely the same way.
 * [ 1 ] The cafe throngs with well-coiffed geriatrics, their raiments quaintly anachronistic. You acquire a lemon meringue tart and some hibiscus tea, both fabulous, and retreat to a plush chair, where you spend the afternoon eavesdropping on a couple discussing their dead friends.
 * [ 10 ] Earl Green is the speciality here. Except for a vegetal aftertaste, a radish-y quality, it is mostly inoffensive. The tea room has an industrial air: white marble, black steel. Everyone is silent. Everyone but you is dressed precisely the same way.
 * [ 20 ] The assistant pressures you into ordering today's special: a slice of sesame cake layered with chocolate, and a masala chai. The former's superb, the latter's adequate. Either way, you regret nothing.
 * [ 30 ] Nothing but tea is served in this low-ceiling, candle-lit room, which is succulent with the smell of sandalwood and white lotus. You pick something black and bitter, and take a seat at the table opposite a train's triumphant crew.
 * [ 40 ] The 'tea' placed in front of you might instead be cooked oatmeal, if not for the stray insect wings and limbs poking out here and there. When you point this out to the waitress, she merely shrugs, and explains that it's a tisane.
 * [ 50 ] God, this tea is atrocious. It tastes of kelp and salted beef. But the room is warm and there is space to lounge on the sofa which snakes across half the room.
 * [ 60 ] Your tea is tepid, sickly sweet. The room – bare concrete and naked flames – is barren save for muscular men clustered in tense discussion. Broken glass carpets the floor. Perhaps, this wasn't the best choice in eateries.
 * [ 70 ] The tea is dark and unctuous, and is furnished with roots and quite possibly a garnish of dirt. A single sip, however, spreads warmth all the way to your fingertips and toes. Too bad the withdrawal hits harder than the heat.
 * [ 80 ] More a seraglio than a tea house, this place is sumptuous, lavish with tissue-thin veils and burgundy carpeting. Your tea is delicate, its flavour impossible to place. The baklava is divine.
 * [ 90 ] The tea is fragrant and refreshing, with just a kiss of sugar. You see someone attempting to add milk to their tea, and they are summarily lynched by two men who were reading newspapers upside-down.
 * [ 101 ] The cafe throngs with well-coiffed geriatrics, their raiments quaintly anachronistic. You acquire a lemon meringue tart and some hibiscus tea, both fabulous, and retreat to a plush chair, where you spend the afternoon eavesdropping on a couple arguing furiously with shimmering ghosts.
 * [ 110 ] Earl Green is the speciality here. Except for a vegetal aftertaste, a radish-y quality, it is mostly inoffensive. The tea room has an industrial air: white marble, black steel. Everyone is silent. Everyone but you is dressed precisely the same way: black suits, white masks.
 * [ 120 ] The assistant pressures you into ordering today's special: a slice of sesame cake layered with chocolate, and a masala chai. The former's superb, the latter's adequate: it stinks of kava and honeyed wasps. Either way, you regret nothing.
 * [ 130 ] Nothing but tea is served in this low-ceiling, candle-lit room, which is succulent with the smell of sandalwood and white lotus. You pick something black and bitter, and take a seat at the table opposite a crew of skeletons, their bones imbued with light.
 * [ 140 ] The 'tea' placed in front of you might instead be cooked oatmeal, if not for the stray insect wings and limbs poking out here and there. When you point this out to the waitress, she merely shrugs, and explains that it's a tisane.
 * [ 150 ] God, this tea is atrocious. It tastes of kelp and salted beef. But the room is warm and there is space to lounge on the sofa which snakes across half the room, part of which is occupied by shrunken heads in glass bottles.
 * [ 160 ] Your tea is tepid, sickly sweet. The room – bare concrete and naked flames – is barren save for muscular men clustered in tense discussion. Broken glass carpets the floor. Perhaps, this wasn't the best choice in eateries.
 * [ 170 ] The tea is dark and unctuous, and is furnished with roots and quite possibly a garnish of dirt. A single sip, however, spreads warmth all the way to your fingertips and toes. The air shimmers and suddenly, everyone’s either lion-headed or crowned with antlers. Too bad the withdrawal hits harder than the heat.
 * [ 180 ] More a seraglio than a tea house, this place is sumptuous, lavish with tissue-thin veils and burgundy carpeting. Your tea is delicate, its flavour impossible to place. The baklava is divine, almost as beautiful as the women with their tentacled arms.
 * [ 190 ] The tea is fragrant and refreshing, with just a kiss of sugar. You see someone attempting to add milk to their tea, and they are summarily lynched by two men who were reading newspapers upside-down.

Interactions in Brief
Click Expand on the right for more.

Interactions in Detail
Click Expand on the right for more.