strangetrip | [EP] open your hands if you want to be held

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[EP] open your hands if you want to be held

Out beyond the greenhouse and the gardens, in the orchards she'd nurtured with love, and magic, and friends, Regina had stripped her usual business casual battle armor in favor of a softer mien. She rested beneath the shade of a tree, inhabited by an elemental named Manzanita, who understood nothing of fashion, everything of fornication and fertility, and laughed like a babbling brook or syrup sap at the words she didn't understand from the fashion magazines Regina read to her beneath her boughs.

At her feet or more occasionally her head, a puppy-now-nearly-a-dog sprawled, his tail thumping when his mistress laughed unusually loudly. From time to time, inexplicably, a black kitten-cat herded by a spirit Russian Blue appeared to torment the dog. Behind them in a magically constructed paddock, a mare grazed, keeping quiet watch over the antics, and less quiet watch over the picnic basket of fresh fruit (apples, and plums, and pears, and berries and cherries, oh my) on a picnic blanket at Regina's side.

The conversation that was more of a communion took a turn for the sly when Manzanita detected thoughts of a certain wolf in her not-a-druid's mind. It wasn't words, but a suggestion, perhaps Regina might leave this issue of outer-bark wholly behind. Head back, laughing, Regina (briefly, magically) shed her clothes for a light dusting of leaves. (~~Please, let me down, Mama. I'll be good.~~)

On second thought, with a flip of her wrists to replace her clothes, she murmured, "Smelling like forest is freedom enough."

[ooc: Slow because shit is real, but hit me til I scream. Find Regina in the orchards she planted at any time during this post. Avoid seeing her naked if your fireball tolerance is low. Otherwise, fireball forecast: low. Title quote: Rumi.]

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"Don't apologize," Regina began and even in a good mood she heard the shrill echoes of her mother and winced internally. She compensated with a warm smile and a clear gesture of invitation to join her. "That's what it's here for. Looking for anything in particular?" It would be a moment's thought in connection with Manzanita and the earth like this to ask something to grow.

"Not exactly. I was thinking maybe a flaugnarde, but was going to see what looked ripe and smelled good to decide what kind." That was one of the good things about a flaugnarde; it would work with almost any fruit, and still be delicious. "And add-ins for salads. With the warmer weather, more people are wanting lighter stuff." Or maybe they were trying to maintain bathing suit figures, not that from what Emma had seen anyone here had problems with that. "Going to the pantry and walk-in isn't the same as meandering through the village market looking for what's fresh and available when deciding what to cook."

"Flaugnarde," Regina repeated, trying to place the word. "I'm afraid I'm not familiar with it."

"But I'd suggest peaches, plums, and watermelon as substitutes for tomatoes and mushrooms in salads." From the basket, she produced one each a peach and a plum, at peak ripeness from her touch earlier and offered them to Emma to sample. "Strawberries with or instead of something like hearts of palm for mouthfeel." That sounded like she knew what she was talking about, at least a little, and in this, she did. Fruit was her one real area of expertise in the kitchen.

"I'd offer citrus, but I haven't perfected that yet." Like Moana's coconuts and Sunny's seeds, she had less experience and less elemental assistance. The balance was more delicate than berries and stone fruits. And, of course, she left Vax's tomatoes and lavender and other vegetable crops alone unless he asked for her help.

Emma felt the weight of the fruits, lifting each so she could smell the ripeness as she considered how to describe flaugnarde. The word flan was confusing when it came to food, because it was another word for what Emma often called crème caramel, but it was also a category that included quiches and similar foods. Flaugnarde was a flan of the latter sort. "When it's made with black cherries, it's also called a clafoutis." It was possible Regina would have heard of that instead. "It's fruit baked in an eggy custard."

Pulling a small pocket knife from her bag, she cut a wedge from the plum to taste, twisting her wrist to keep too much of the juice from running down her arm. "I probably should have thought about them before. Flaugnarde is definitely something you can make, and when you have the basic recipe, it's easy to experiment with different fillings."

"When you say 'you' can make, you are aware that Ignis had only barely taught me to make meat pies before he left, aren't you?" Regina gave Emma a skeptical look, at once for the bold suggestion of teaching her and for the prospect of her being able to cook anything that had a French name even when you spoke English.

"But if the fruit is too ripe to cook with," because it did seem that putting that much juice into a custard would have to spoil it. If she knew anything at all about cooking, it was that she was able to make things with apple precisely because they had relatively low water to fiber ratio. "If you tell me what you'd like, I can ripen it to suit your needs."

Ordinarily, she wouldn't make that offer, but she did want to keep learning to cook, and since Emma and Sunny seemed to have taken over the kitchen, it suited her to be helpful.

"Meat pies are far more complicated than flaugnarde."

One of the good things about flaugnardes was how forgiving they could be. Emma cut another slice from the plum, both because it was delicious and to judge its ripeness. If a fruit was truly too juicy, there were ways to deal with that when prepping the fruit or making the batter, but the plum seemed just right. Much easier than wrapping her head around the idea Regina could ripen them to suit, or that she would offer to do so.

"These should be good as they are." She hadn't cut into the peach, but from the weight of it and the feel of it when she squeezed not hard enough to bruise the tender fruit, it seemed ripe enough but not too ripe. "And I wouldn't want to bother you with something as inconsequential as ripening fruit, unless it was for something special anyway. But thank you for offering.

"I'll probably make one plum and one peach, for dessert tonight or brunch tomorrow. If you try it, and decide you want to learn to make one sometime, just let me know." She smiled, almost shyly, but not as much as she might have done. "They're good with apple too, if that helps." Of course she'd noticed what kinds of things Regina was most comfortable baking, and apples were definitely a running theme.

"It's not difficult to touch-ripen fruit and it's the least I can do to contribute to the food stores," Regina replied mildly but with a note of strong self-awareness. She wouldn't be cooking for anyone other than pies and turnovers any time soon. Not to mention that maintaining sufficient jarred and canned and shelf-stable inventory in case of a disaster was one of her primary functions at the Inn.

"Leave a message for me if you ever do want something. It won't take me long to get to it."

As for the flaugnarde, well, she'd have to see. "I'll look forward to tasting the flaugnarde. I'm usually better at cooking things that I like." She didn't tend to explain why it was always apples, but she did feel it was sufficiently strange that it deserved at least a mention. "That's why I cook with apples as much as I do. They were the only fruit I had with me--" In the castle, at least until she'd killed Leopold. "When I married."

That Emma didn't know Regina well wasn't only because Emma could be a hermit. From what she'd seen, Regina wasn't the type to open up about most things. Even now, when she offered an explanation for the apples, it didn't feel like an invitation for questions or commentary, or worse sympathy. So Emma acknowledged what Regina was saying with a dip of her head and small nod. "That makes sense. It's easier and better cooking things you like to eat – you get to look forward to eating them, and you have a good idea of what they're supposed to be like. And apples aren't just good, they're really versatile too."

Regina nodded, pursed lips emitting a soft sound of agreement. It hadn't only been that, though, and part of her wanted it understood. She cleared her throat and brushed her hands over her thighs.

"All of that, yes. But also, the tree was a friend when I had none. Using her fruit was..." A small shrug and then, "Honoring her. I do the same here, but I have since learned to speak with the elementals that inhabit the trees. So the friendship is more mutual."

There were elementals in the trees? That was cool. And weird. But mostly cool, Emma thought, as long as they didn't mind them using the fruit. It probably would have taken longer to wrap her head around, if she wasn't somewhat used to Dani making friends with the local wildlife. "That is a very good reason for using the fruit. Tell them thank you from me?"

"You've told them yourself," came Regina's reply on a ripple of amusement that wasn't quite laughter. Against her side, Manzanita also 'laughed', leaves shivering on her tree's branches with responsive delight.

"They only speak and communicate in the loosest sense, unless you have a bond with them. But they have--" How had Atticus explained it? "--an empathic awareness of living things around them. So if you're grateful when you pick fruit, they know. If you want to make a special point of it, lay your hand against the tree's bark for a minute before you take the fruit. If you do that often enough, you'll find they subtly rearrange their leaves and boughs to offer you the fruit they're most proud of."

It was sort of sweet, really. She'd noticed it first with the berry bushes in Atticus's greenhouse.

That sounded even more like Dani's communicating with animals, or even more like her encouraging and interacting with T-O. If it wasn't exactly the same, the familiar framing meant it didn't sound all that strange to Emma. "I'll do that. It kind of reminds me of my teacher back home, although her connections weren't to plants or elementals living in them."

"Your teacher, might I know her?" She'd met more than a few who spoke to animals in various worlds. It probably wasn't Atticus, because she'd know about elementals, but Regina couldn't help asking.

There was no one else at the inn from Emma's world. Her readings had confirmed that. Not now anyway. Laynia had been, but she was gone now, and had been from before Emma knew her anyway.

"Probably not the one who taught me, since you're not from my reality. But there are a couple of people here who know alternate versions of Dani. Moonstar. Unless there's a version who's really different from the one I know, if you've met her, you'll remember."

Not Atticus, then, but Regina chuckled anyhow. "She was friendly with the druid who taught me," and who'd held her while she cried over her losses. She did miss him, sometimes. "My son played with her children."

Emma blinked. Regina had said words, and they were words she knew, but those words, in that order, it was hard to make them make sense.

My son played with her children.

"Dani. Has kids." Plural even. Regina said children, not child.

"With who?" came out before she knew she'd thought the question.

Regina tilted her head, surprised by the reaction. The Dani Moonstar she'd known had been...the consummate mother. So much so that Regina had been bitterly jealous of her at first. It had helped, of course, that Snow had never taken to her, but even so.

Strange to see someone surprised at the fact.

"As I recall, her husbands' names were Bobby Drake and Scott Summers."

Emma been so busy trying to wrap her head around the idea of Dani being a mother, she didn't think about it when she cut off another bit of plum and ate it as Regina answered. If she'd been thinking, she wouldn't have needed her precog to know that was probably a bad idea when she was likely to get another surprise, two even, and she coughed as juice tried to go down the wrong way. She covered her mouth with the back of the hand holding her knife, and shook her head to wave off any concern from Regina.

It only took a moment to physically recover, but she sounded a little breathless still. "She and Bobby got married?" That Dani and Bobby would end up together wasn't a surprise, but that they'd married... Emma remembered Bobby looking down at the T-O ring he never took off, and wistfully saying, This is as married as we'll get.

She didn't know what to do about the idea of Scott being with either of them. Other than assuming Jean must still be dead in that world.

Blame maternal instinct, Regina shifted forward even before the cough. She reached out just as Emma waved her off--something else maternal instinct probably should've foreseen, but Emma was the seer (so she'd heard), not her.

She waited for Emma to recover before answering, "I assume so. They called each other husband and wife, in any event, and I know one of the boys was Bobby's."

"Sorry. I should be used to the idea of alts being really different from each other. Kitty's enough an example of that. Or Nate and Nathan." Although that was more complicated because of time travel and other weirdness, and Emma didn't even know if Regina would know either of them.

"But still, the idea of Dani having kids, or being married. Or Scott being with somebody other than Jean..." Of course her thoughts went to Sabine, who'd loved him knowing it would go nowhere as long as Jean existed. And from things TJ and Mariko had said, Jean and Scott were meant to be together in lots of realities. "It's hard to even imagine."

An elegant eyebrow lifted at one of the names. "Nathan was my son Roland's friend. I understood him to be Scott's son."

She had some sympathy for Emma's confusion. After all, Snow was very little like her namesake. "Even if the story begins the same, events shape them differently. The version of Snow from my world is a mother and a schoolteacher, a princess who wears pastel cardigans. She's been in love with the same man since the day she met him, more or less. Snow, as I'm sure you've noticed, has a pathological aversion to most of those things. On the surface, at least."

Emma nodded. That much she understood. "Nate and Nathan were different versions of the same person. One from the future, one from a different world. And they were very different people.

"Probably not the same as the one who was friends with your son, though. Nathan is Dani's Teacher. And one of her... lovers." That was such a weird word, but calling Nathan a boyfriend felt more wrong.

"Most likely not." Although Regina had seen the way the universes tended to cluster people together even if their relationships changed. "In any event, that Nathan was no teacher, though he was the most solemn child I ever met. And one of the more powerful."

"Was she happy?" It wasn't her Dani (or the Bobby or Scott she knew), but Emma still hoped the other Dani had a life she wanted. That was more important than whether Nathan was alt-Nathan, or a namesake, or someone else entirely.

"Were they?"

[EP] open your hands if you want to be held

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