strangetrip | [OTA] S'more S'mores, Please (joint EP: Emma and Jag)

Usually when Emma couldn't sleep, she cooked. Last night had been the opposite. She'd started trying out new marshmallow variations, completely lost track of time, and spent most of the night in the kitchen instead of doing reasonable things, like sleep. She'd grabbed a nap in the wee hours, though and another after lunch, and now was wide awake.

She also had batches and batches of homemade marshmallows.

Around sunset, Jag helped her set up a table near the pool and outdoor bar, that she loaded up with the marshmallows, graham crackers and other cookies, chocolate and berries and spreads and bacon. Anything somebody might think of that would make a good s'more, from the traditional basic graham, milk chocolate bar, plain marshmallow, to bourbon marshmallow s'mores with smoky bacon. If the inn was anything like the castle, word of mouth would spread quick enough, and the food wouldn't go to waste.

Jag had started a fire right beside the table, but after having had his own fill of s'mores, he had left Emma to meeting the demand of other hotel residents. He was sticking around to make sure the fire was behaving just right, though. So he was lying on his back a little way from Emma's table, and the fire he was still controling, weaving and sculpting additional fire between his hands, keeping a distracted ear on what was going on nearby.

[tag Emma or tag Jag. food and fire, what could be better?]

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Liz pressed her chin onto her knees and looked rather sheepish. When Emma phrased it like that, the question sounded stupid. "Sorry. You're right." She focused on the fire since looking at Emma would prove to feel even more embarrassment than she already did. She didn't know much about the whole mutant thing - she hadn't even know Kitty or Piotr had powers until recently - and she thought there might be tips to having abilities. But Liz had also suspected there was no fixing what she had. Max had done something that changed her, for better or for worse.

"I think it's really cool." This came after a long pause "That you're so confident about cooking and your powers and everything."

Emma recognized that posture in her bones, could feel the make yourself small, curl around the awkward and embarrassment and self-consciousness she folded herself into so easily and often. And then Liz called her confident, when Emma knew she was anything but.

"I've been learning to cook and to read the tarot since I was five. If I wasn't comfortable with both of those things by now, something would be seriously wrong. But I'm still just a fortune teller, and I don't See what's coming more often than I get a heads up when it's needed.

"I'm really lucky. I have a lot of control over my abilities. They aren't on all the time, they don't – usually – hit me out of nowhere. And for the most part, it's not obvious I'm a mutant just by looking at me." Or Roma, but that was already a sore spot when it came to Liz today, and Emma wasn't going to bring it up now. "I know I'm coming from a place of privilege. But to me, being a mutant isn't something that needs to be cured or fixed or turned off. Learning how to use it better, sure, and I'm still doing that. I will probably always be doing that, same as with any other skill.

"You never know when kissing your boyfriend is going to trigger this ability you didn't ask for and would rather not have. Yes, it kind of sucks that it can happen at random, but you have to decide which is more important to you – not triggering your power or not doing the one very specific thing that triggers it. And maybe think not only about what questions you ask," since from what Emma had seen, but not Seen since she hadn't looked that way, not thinking about the questions she asked was a theme with Liz, "but how you ask them and of whom. You'll probably get better answers that way."

She was quiet as she processed that all. Emma was right, of course. Lately Liz had been rather desperate for information and the need to feel in control that she wasn't thinking things through as much as she normally did. It ironically led to her feeling less in control.

"Thanks, Emma." She meant it. It wasn't dismissive like it might be for someone her age. Liz also felt the need to apologize, but she wasn't sure how to phrase it, so she awkwardly left it at that.

Liz meant it, Emma could tell, wondering again when she'd become jaded enough to lose some of the painfully earnest edge Liz showed all the time.

"Sorry I couldn't give you the kind of answer you wanted to hear. I do have one last piece of advice, though. Have a s'more. But be mindful about it. From picking out the components to put together, roasting the marshmallow, squishing the layers together, eating, the whole thing. Focus on how it effects all your senses. It will make you feel better."

She smiled and unfolded herself, the nodded. "Okay, I will. And, it's okay." Sometimes, she supposed, there was never going to be an answer that you liked.

Liz stood from where she was sitting. "Thanks again." Both for talking, but also for the S'mores themselves.

Then, with another small smile, she went off to decide what to put in hers.

[OTA] S'more S'mores, Please (joint EP: Emma and Jag)

Re: Liz & Emma

Re: Liz & Emma

Re: Liz & Emma

Re: Liz & Emma

Re: Liz & Emma