strangetrip | [GP/EP] Pie for Pi Day

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[GP/EP] Pie for Pi Day

The only ones who might have known yesterday held any significance were Jag and Sunny, and if they did, they also knew her well enough to know she wasn't big on celebrations. Her one tradition, a new deck for her birthday, hadn't been possible this year, since she hadn't found anything like a tarot deck on Asphodel Station. But that was okay.

Pi Day, on the other hand, was worth celebrating. Everybody liked pie. Last week, she'd talked to Pike, who had been curious and excited about a holiday for pie, and seemed eager to help. Yesterday, she'd put a notice on the bulletin board, hand-lettered over a watercolor scene of pies and more pies. She'd also made ice cream in a variety of flavors, since she wasn't Bobby to freeze it on demand, in less time than it took to prepare the custard base. Today, she left the non-pie food preparation to Ignis, the chicken chef, and anyone who wanted to fend for themselves.

Today, along with Pike and anyone else who wanted to and knew what they were doing, Emma baked pies. Fruit pies and cream pies. Quiche and pot pies. Shepherd's pie and meat pies. Hand pies, savory or sweet, baked or fried. As close as she could get to real Brooklyn-style pizza this far from Brooklyn. Some were decorated with the symbol π or the first few digits of the number it represented, as a vent in a top crust, piped in whipped cream, or carefully laid out in caramelized onions depending on the pie. And because she couldn't resist the visual pun any more now than she could the first time she celebrated Pi Day at the castle, a square apple pie (one of Bobby's favorites) and cherry tart (a recipe she'd learned from Sabine, the fruits a deep ruby red against white cream and pale crust that would have appealed to her cousin's aesthetics).

It wasn't the same as Pi Day at the castle, but there was a bustle and energy as people moved between the kitchens, the bakery, and the cafe, sitting to talk over a slice, or helping each other choose what to taste next. As long as Emma stayed busy, she could enjoy the memories without dwelling on the people she missed.

And there was pie. Everybody likes pie.

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"Not 'cut off your leg' angry," she laughed.

Setting down the needle, she picked up a sharp little knife, "I don't remember what it's called, but it's better than Grog's Sandkeg liquor at numbing."

She gave his knee a hard poke, "Feel anything?"

"No." And that was a little worrying, but he did trust Pike. He was also pretty fascinated with the needle itself, but he was more focused on what she was going to do. "What are you going to do?"

"Good," she nodded. The time for teasing was done and she was ready to get to work. "I'm going to make a small cut right below the bullet then go in with those big tweezers, called forceps to grab ahold of it and pull it out. Then a quick healing spell and you'll be all fixed."

He exhaled and then nodded. "Alright." He watched her closely. "Sorry for taking you away from... 'pie day' was it?"

The whole process took less than thirty seconds. Even after months without practice, her hands knew what to do. Her training as a cleric had given her countless hours of experience healing without magic.

After removing the bullet, she cast Cure Wounds and the cut on his knee closed without leaving so much as a scar. It even got rid of whatever was numbing the area.

“I’m alright missing a few moments of pie,” she gave him a chilly look, “I don’t turn my back on my friends and abandon them when they need me.”

"I deserve that." Even though he didn't really think they 'needed' him, but he wouldn't say that out loud.

"...Thank you, Pike. It feels a lot better." He bent and extended it a few times.

"Yes, you do," Maybe it was because she was so close, or maybe he was actually trying not to hide as much, but Pike saw something flicker across his expression. "Hey, come on now, what was that thought? You told me you wouldn't hide things inside anymore."

She whetted a rag cleaned up the left over blood. "You've always been stubborn about letting me heal you, always insisting that you're fine and telling me to heal myself."

"That's because if you were to fall Pike..." He reached out and touched the hand that was near his knee. "It's not that I didn't want you to heal me, it's that if you fell in battle because you used up your energy for me... I'd never forgive myself."

“Was that really it?” She could ndcsd tell when ge was lying, so most of the time she just assumed he told her what she ‘wanted to hear.’ “I always thought it was because you didn’t want to look weak.”

She kept her hand under his for a few heartbeats before slowly pulling away. Yeah, she’d just pressed him against the wall, carried him, then cut him open...but somehow letting him touch her was different.

Maybe that was a part of it, but he had been telling the truth too. "There are other people who usually need it more than me. I don't really get up close and personal with things that want to kill me."

"Scanlan, Each battle is different and all of us are necessary to make it through them. So stop feeling sorry for yourself and really think, maybe you'd remember how many times you've saved all of our asses from nasty spells."

She gave him a pointed look, "Yeah, Grog can smash things and Vax can stab them in the back, but they were better with you around. And you didn't see what it was like when you weren't there to inspired them."

He didn't think it could have been that bad, but he nodded. "I'm sure that Darrington guy made up for it with his - whatever it is he does"

"Tary? Really?" Pike started laughing, not in a cruel way, but the thought was rather funny, "You two couldn't be more different. I didn't go into battle with him very much, but I know he didn't make up for the hole you left."

Good. He felt better about that. There was a part of him that was jealous about that guy and his closeness with Vox Machina. "Well, I am pretty amazing."

Pike hoped Scanlan believed her. One of the things she’d decided in her meditations after their first talk, was that Scanlan truly didn’t realize how much they all needed him. She’d always know that his confidence was lower than he led on, but she’d never fathomed it had fallen so low.

She still hadn’t forgiven him, but she thought she understood things a bit better.

“You’re certainly unique, I’ll give you that,” she smiled at him with more of their familiar playfulness than she’d been able to muster before. “Come on, off the table and move around. I want to make sure there’s nothing else in there.”

"Alright."

He hopped off the table and was not immediately met with searing pain - that was a good start.

Scanlan did a walk around the room, then a few squats. "Most importantly," He went down on one knee, facing her, like he might be proposing. "No pain. That's good."

She watched him move with a careful eye, knowing that his body would give him away before he even said anything. So wrapped up in her observation, it took her a second to realize that he’d made a joke. “Oh! Get up before I have Percy shoot you again.”

Her expression softened just slightly, “Are you sure you’re alright? I know I hit you, but it’s not quite the same as having a friend shoot you.”

He stood up with a smile and it only slightly faltered when she asked the question. He nodded. "I'm alright. Percy had his reasons. Plus he didn't try to kill me, so there's that."

“He certainly could have done worse, but still...” she paused, trying to decide whether she approved or disapproved of Percy’s actions. “Did he have more of a reason than ‘because you were a cruel git’?”

Scanlan contemplated how to answer that. He weighed how she would react. "He was upset for how I treated you the most, I think."

Pike's nose wrinkled. That didn't really sound right. Yeah, Percy came after her at Winter's Crest, but she certainly didn't think he would be upset on her behalf over anyone else in their group. Maybe that was just what Scanlan thought she would want to hear. "Then he shouldn't have wasted his time. I can stand up for myself." Her eyebrow arched, "I think everyone knows that if I wanted your kneecap shattered, my mace would have been as effective as a bullet."

Somehow the idea of a mace to the kneecap was far more painful. He even winced a little. "That's not still on the table as a possibility, is it?"

She thought for a long moment, but in her heart, she knew that she could never cause him that kind of pain, "No. Not unless you do anything like that again."

He put up his hand, palm facing her. "I swear not to run off from you again:" A slight pause, " unless you come with me this time."

“I’m not sure if that promise means as much now that you could only get four hours away,” she chuckled, “but I’ll accept it.”

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