10556/Morning at the apartment

Morning at the apartment
Date of Scene:	28 December 2019
Location:	Sam and Doug's Apartment
Synopsis:	cooking maybe learned, and Doug has how towel moment.
Cast of Characters:	Cannonball, Magik, Prismatic, Cypher

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Cannonball has posed:
Samuel Guthrie will come out of the bedroom one morning wearing just a pair of shorts. He has gotten up not to long ago and heads towards the kitchen area. He does put on an apron and starts cooking some bacon and eggs.

Magik has posed:
One morning, and there is a scent of something... off. An earthy one, a bit like porridge or grits, except not quite. The kitchen carries the source of that oddly grain-based fragrance. The oven is already turned on and a few Mason jars set out like science experiments on the counter indicate some work in progress, hot water steaming away with their jeweled prizes visible within. Rehydrating apricots, cranberries, blueberries, and a few less than identifiable red- or coral-hued berries float in their suspension. The trash is full of ... well, it -sort- of looks like the bastard child of quinoa and an oats dish, accounting for a scorched whiff. There's probably enough in there to feed every last student in the west and south wings combined, and the morass varies between glutinous cement to loosely congealed slop, though anything liquid has been thoroughly and totally banished down the sink or to another realm. A post-it note in sharp scrawl reads: Please recycle me! :(

The waster of food? She's currently in the pantry, fighting with a jar. In the sense it is slightly too high for her to just reach up and get. No help, the honey is just up there ignoring her. <<Curse every shelf taller than six feet. Curse being short. And bloody blast it all in the name of Xy'fharzyx.>>

Cannonball has posed:
Samuel Guthrie 's brow will raise, and he will look into the Pantry "Ummm you need some help in there? He does step in and will reach up to get the honey. Sam reaches it rather easily. "So, what are you making out there, looks like Doug had been trying to cook something but the stove was atleast in one piece and not burnt.

Magik has posed:
If the world was ending, emergency notifications might be released for the sake of warning the general population not to eat Illyana's cooking. She might be more prone to -create- new life that way than actually destroying all of mankind in an attempt to decipher the way to make macaroni and cheese. Her displeased Russian curses trail off when Sam appears, and at least she doesn't jump out of her skin. Instead, she backs up against a metric ton of canned goods, not managing to disperse a single one. Metal clinks off the back of her buckled boots. "How late is it?" The question is a furtive, certain thing. Drawing in a breath, she squeezes the lid and wrenches the jar open with a bare sliver of effort. Must run in the family. "I am practicing my sochivo. It is not turning out the way I want."

Cannonball has posed:
Samuel Guthrie offers her a smile, he has known the girl for years, even if with limbo it may or may not be exactly the same girl to Sam it is. "Six in the morning, you been working on this all night? I might be able to help, but your gonna have to tell me what Sochivo is."

Magik has posed:
Limbo-time changes everything and nothing, reworking the petite blonde from child to monster and all thigns in between. She sets her fingers beneath the jar, holding it in one hand. "We ate it for Christmas Eve. A traditional dish, it is like a pudding or a breakfast here. Chopped dried fruit, honey, poppy seeds, and honey. Sometimes it uses... you would call them wheatberries, maybe? I use kasha, too, so it comes out easier. Shanno might help me try making kozulya cookies, but this should be easy. It is -boiling- wheat. How is it so hard?" Her mouth crushes into a rosebud of pure dismay, even as she looks up through her bangs to Sam. "Back home, I would be dead."

Cannonball has posed:
Samuel Guthrie will reach over and squeezes her shoulder a bit and says "Well, I will help, let me grab my tablet to look up recipes. alexis will probably be sleep for a while longer. Might be sorta like making oatmeal or grits"

Magik has posed:
The blonde Russian anoints her bangs with the flat of her palm, shoving them out of the way. Not a second later, the fringe will crash back in place, but it's better than nothing. "Do you read Cyrillic? I have been spoiled, forgetting..." Cat, fleeing bag, leaves a cat-shaped dust cloud behind in that conversation. "It should be simple. Everyone makes this. Not like bread, it is so /plain/." She pauses and bolts out of the pantry, squeezing past Sam. Too late -- the baking variety is already blackened around the edges as she hauls down the oven door.

Cannonball has posed:
Samuel Guthrie will almost get bowled over, buy gets out of the way as she bolts for the kitchen "Na, but there has to be some english translations on the net don't they?" He looks at the thing she is bringing out of the over, and trys to decide if it is edible at all. "My russian never got very well at all."

Magik has posed:
Dropping down to one knee, Illyana seizes an oven mitt and pulls out the ceramic bowl. She scowls at the resulting mess and sets it aside on a cork trivet to cool. A spoon could bounce off the carbonized surface of the welded wheat. There is no saving that. Her jar of honey set aside on the counter is a glorious testament to simple foods, and proof that bees can do what a demonic sorceress cannot. "Maybe English ones. I am sad there is no standard recipe, but even that..." Her eyes narrow, the faintest glow to them as she turns back to Sam. "We start all over again, da? At least I have a bag of this large enough for even my brother."

Cannonball has posed:
Samuel Guthrie smiles and says "Ok, Ah have done a bit of starting over when ma was working with Paige and the others learning to cook. Lets get everything cleaned up and start over. You get the pots, and pans clean while Ah look up a recipe. Now what was the name of it again?' He asks after being quiet while getting the tablet to not wake Alexis.

Magik has posed:
Pots and pans being cleaned? The demon queen arches an eyebrow and then turns back to the assortment of dishes, of which there are surprisingly few. Other than her Mason jars with their fruits and the disaster from the oven, there might be four or five. Hands go to her hips. "The Fourth Canticle of Aradia should have something. Let's see." Not a natural singer by choice, she hums a chord to find her bar, and it lilts back and forth. "Butto via questo pento' e butto via it pensiero!" A snap of her fingers and half a dozen ephemeral vines snap around, devouring the pots, spoons, and two bowls. Iridescent leaves open and then wither away, the process taking about thirty seocnds total, but when they do, everything is frighteningly sparkling.

Cannonball has posed:
Samuel Guthrie comes back just in time to see the end of this "Ok, well that is a new one." He walks over to her, and says "Ok according to this we need to star with making sure the wheat is clean, then we boil it then put in the oven.

Magik has posed:
"I scoured enough for a lifetime." Her shrug speaks heavily to that, though Illyana holds out her hands to collect the remaining leaves that start to crumble to dust. The smell isn't too bad, at least. The debris she adds to the ruins of her previous meals in the trash with the recycling post-it, which means she is on the hook to carrying it out later. Working around Sam, she procures a mixing bowl and hunts for the large sieve usually preferred for pasta or vegetables. A bag of wheat -- she's not kidding, it's at least 6 kilograms -- sits on the counter where a rack of bananas normally would be.

Cannonball has posed:
Samuel Guthrie says, "You know this takes a while to cook, and We might want to try a couple different ways. We will try to boil it for 5 hours, boil some and then roast, and then something Ah want to try that I aint seeing but Ah think maybe the best bet for you.""

Magik has posed:
"Five hours?" A look of horror shows on Illyana's face. "What is that recipe asking you do to?" The raised arch of her golden brows is telling. "It will be nearly dinner by then. You know better than I do, at least." She nods to Sam, stacking up several of the dishes to be put away or used in another form. Scooping out the wheat into the bowl is the easy part, as is running water over the contents until thoroughly doused.

Cannonball has posed:
Samuel Guthrie says, "The one in the oven should go a bit quicker. If you boil it takes that long till get soft, in the oven , one recipe says we can boil it, drain it and then boil again only be about an hour, we will try both. What I was thinking though is we put some cooking in a crockpot, that should cook it till it is soft, without burning it."

Magik has posed:
Sam might as well be speaking Greek. Or one of the lost languages of Papua New Guinea. Illyana follows this with her usual flat expression, giving away nothing. Appropriate then to offer that transitory nod, the facts and the methods are left to him. "Where is this... pot?" Right. Call it a pot, it's rather safe.

Cannonball has posed:
Samuel Guthrie will walk over and show her the crock pot. You can put things in here and let it cook over night while you sleep. It is a safe way to cook things but takes a while. Ma used it to do beans, and you can actually make a decent pulled pork in them too." He will pull a plastic bag from the cabinet "These are liners you put in it, to make it alot easier to clean, for us who don't have crud eatting vines.

Magik has posed:
"These appliances are much better than a pot and a wooden spoon or babysitting the oven. How does everyone know what to do with them?" asks the sorceress, as if half the things she studies are any less familiar to the greater world. Pressing buttons or turning dials shouldn't be that difficult. "What do you make for breakfast, usually?" Fingers grip the countertop as she leans over, watching what Sam does. "The vines are better than calling up an entropy spirit or one of the demons. I do not want to give them a taste for too much human food."

Cannonball has posed:
Samuel Guthrie smiles and says "Well Ma taught me, more often use by people who are either real busy or more rural Ah think." He grins and says "Me, Ah normally do some scrambled eggs, and either sausage or bacon, and maybe some grits. You hungry?"

Magik has posed:
"She's a good woman, your mother. Taking care of you all and teaching you to do the same," Illyana murmurs, looking away as she moves to the sink and sorts out the draining of the rehydrated fruit. That part is easy, spilling the sticky water over her fingers as she cups the raisins and the chopped apricots. A whole preserved rainbow there in the darkest of hues, cranberries included for a spark of colour. Some of those berries are most definitely not North American -- lingonberries, for example. The act of rinsing and setting them aside takes very little time. "Part of me is always hungry, never satisfied. A famished hole wanting something." A faint smirk touches her lips, lasting only a little. "You were stopped from cooking for me. I can make toast for you at least? And--" A pause. "Alexis?"

Cannonball has posed:
Samuel Guthrie nods, and says "Yea, she is asleep, was going to fix her breakfast in bed." He offers her a smile and says "You going to be crashing here occasionally as well?" He does not ask for more details, just that.

Magik has posed:
Certain things are blindingly obvious. Some, less so. "Do you know the story of Hades and Persephone?" Illyana pulls her hair back off her face, twisting and flipping it over so that it forms a single bun. Two pens are all she needs to jam through the golden knot, keeping it in place. Frying things at least is eays; she's /good/ with fire. Surprise. Sam gets a sidelong look as though she might anticipate what to pull out of the fridge. Bread for toast, easy. Eggs in their cardboard carton, easy.

Cannonball has posed:
Samuel Guthrie hmms and says "Kidnapped to hell, but ended up getting feelings, story of the pomagranet right?" He will ask does get eggs and bacon from the fridge. "Little hint, when your cooking something in a frying band, you don't want a bare or mostly bare chest, bacon pops and splatters.

Magik has posed:
"Pomegranate," agrees Illyana. She crosses over to fetch the bread as Sam has the refrigerated goods, so procuring up bread and sticking it in the twelve-million slot toaster is very easy to do. She lines up eight pieces in the pair of quad-sets, pushing down on all the flat panels. "Do you or she prefer lightly browned, crispy, halfway?" An honest question, while Sam and Illyana dance through the kitchen.

While waiting to make adjustments, she continues softly, "Persephone was the goddess of springtime, rebirth, and growth, yes. The firstborn daughter of the elder Olympians after the Titanomachy, her story is a long, complicated one. But during her abduction, she ate the red arils of the pomegranate. Food in the Underworld is -- was -- binding. To eat the food is to bind you there by its power. The nekyia rites would make our food palatable to those of the dark realms. Chinese lore has similar stories, that it is safe to bring the food from here to there but never around." Her head tipped, she crosses her arms. "If he wants breakfast, it has to be here."

Cannonball has posed:
Samuel Guthrie nods, a bit and says "Medium, and if you want to earn to cook breakfast, Ah can help, you can not be any worse than Doug is trust me, Ah swear cooking has got to be a family curse on his mom's side." He offers a smile and says "Ah hope you get to know Alexis better, Ah want her to get along with all my family, and your part of that hon." He tells her as he starts scrambles up the eggs.

Magik has posed:
"How can he be so poor at it?" A wondering sound there, for Illyana shakes her head. "Did he not grow up with all that? I thought it would be easier." Thumb resting on the dial, she adjusts the toaster up a few notches to settle a darker finish on the bread. She smirks at Sam, one way or the other. "Maybe he suffers for an ancestor's terrible wrong to a stove? I have the easy excuse, I never learned." With a quick little shake of her head, she gives him a measured look. "I will try to give her the welcome I would want. I do not know very much about her. Anything I should be aware of?"

Cannonball has posed:
Samuel Guthrie looks over and says "Well she was a musical prodigy. Amara had her record, is how Ah recognized her. Her dad is anti-mutant, she ran off before her dad found out she was one. She lived on the streets for a while, made a living teaching music, and playing music in public and some other places. She aint got contact with her family cause of her dad. Real name is Alegra, but keeps going by Alexis as is worried about her Dad finding her.

Magik has posed:
Illyana Rasputina dips her chin lightly. "Type of musical name, I recognize the word. Appropriate for her," she murmurs, "if that is her power." With the dance of food moving around, she goes to fetch the butter to at least prepare the toast while Sam does the actual work that doesn't involve setting thigns on fire. "Good for her to be here, then. Does she have any interests beside music?"

Cannonball has posed:
Samuel Guthrie nods, and says "Armor layer under her skin is her powers. She likes fencing, soccer, really likes teaching and helps the kids. She is really great." He grins over to Illyana. "She wants to help people is interested in possibly doing the hero thing as well."

Magik has posed:
Fencing? That causes a quick perk of attention. "Something with a sword. That's easy." A tap of her fingertip to her side would indicate where the hilt of a rapier usually lies, though Illyana's soulsword is rarely so slender or short for that matter. It likes to rest against her back as a matter of preference, when not drawn directly out of her body. "I will see what I can do. Best not to let her try any of the cooking until then." Thoughtful in her darkest of aspects and vibrant in the worst of moods, this is a relatively contemplative state for the blonde Russian. She stacks the plates with toast and then hops up onto the counter, having less else to do. "I trust you to check me if I am in danger of troubling her or not dealing with His Serenity well. This," a shrug, "is all new."

Prismatic has posed:
    The door to the bedroom opens, and out steps a thoroughly exhausted looking, dark-haired young woman, her hair pulled up in a hasty bun, wearing a pair of flannel PJ bottoms decorated with dancing donuts and a truly ugly Christmas sweater with a T-Rex sporting Santa's hat and a pair of sunglasses. Little LED lights blink as she blearily peers into the kitchen. She looks to Sam. She looks to Illyana. She points at Illyana.

    "... thank you for the magical cloak?" she questions, trying to recall if this was, in fact, the correct Illyana Rasputina, Limbo Queen and Magical Girl.

    Do they make business cards for that?

Cannonball has posed:
Samuel Guthrie smiles and says "Yea, Ah saw her whoop some ass with a blind rod, she kicks ass." He grins and is cooking in the kitchen, and chatting with Illyana. "We are all pretty new with this and we can help one another." He is wearing a pair of shorts and an apron pretty early in the morning. He snuck out into the kitchen while Alexis was asleep. There is also several pots cooking wheat in them.

Magik has posed:
The Queen of Limbo is, at the moment, in fairly fine fettle. A long sweater wraps around her in a gradient, the sleeves brushing her knuckles most of the time. With her blonde hair in a bun secured using two ballpoint pens, she makes for an impressively unintimidating presence. What with her feet hanging just short of the bottom drawer on the cabinet, the perch on the counter is one well-suited for staying away from splattered bacon grease.

Blinking LED lights supporting a T. rex are beyond her ability to overlook. No matter how good sausage may smell, she finds her attention locked on like a magpie to something shiny, though Alexis gets a slow nod of greeting. At least of a sort. "You are welcome. Happy Christmas, and I hope it kept you adequately warm." Something must tickle her nose, because she abruptly looks up at the ceiling. Eyes narrow a fraction, but try not to look too hard considering her pupils are vanished in a blink, and she raises her fingertip. "Ah. Pardon me." Sunlight bends in accordance to her will, or it might seem that way as a circle appears close to the fridge.

"'This.'" Sam's statement she levels a dry undertone to. "The cost of my failures leaves worse than craters," she says. "I really would rather not screw up. More importantly, screw him up."

Cypher has posed:
That golden stepping disk moves up and down and vanishes -- and then Doug is standing in the kitchen.

In the middle of a puddle of water, dripping wet, with his hands held protectively in front of him.

His cheeks flame scarlet, as he reaches out to grab the nearest available thing, which is the apron Sam is wearing, and he holds it protectively in front of him to try and conceal his -- well -- everything.

He opens his mouth and says something, but it isn't in English. Actually it's not even a language spoken on Earth.

Prismatic has posed:
    "It did, thank you, truly a remarkable gift however temporary. I've spent enough nights cold to appreciate such wa--" she pauses a moment, as Doug suddenly... appears. Wet. Naked. And Alexis is somewhat behind him and she just gives a blink of surprise, drops her jaw a moment, scratches her chin and then -- with her ears turning a bright red, simply sidesteps the naked Doug and courteously keeps her eyes Anywhere Other Than Doug.

    "Good morning to you as well, Doug." she greets him, with her back to him, rubbing the back of her neck, trying to not make a big deal of soaking wet naked men appearing in the apartment kitchen.

Cannonball has posed:
Samuel Guthrie undoes the neck part of the apron so he does not have to stay close to the other man. "Ok, Ah think this maybe worse than the towel." he teases a bit. He does start dishing up the food, and says "In english, or at least something from earth Dougy." He grins a bit and brings his plate and Alexis over to Alexis, leaning over to kiss her cheek, but he did set up a plate for Doug and one for Illyana.

Magik has posed:
In one of those moments, it /helps/ to be the resident sorceress. Even if her portals evidently eat clothing in the process. The bending light snaps shut underneath Doug as the portal evaporates, the last glimmering of Limbo on the other side fading away. Whatever he calls out, Illyana has no idea. She knows exactly one thing.

Towels! Opening a drawer, hand towels are found and flung with startling accuracy one after the other. She really should just weave them into some kind of ragamuffin outfit or bend an illusion, but given how dark her magic wants to be much of the time, bad idea. Neither can she transfer the armour that likes to appear at random intervals to further take care of things, so the option of a wall o' towels is the best option. "I think that means 'sorry about the hot water bill,' forgetting that the Phlegethon gives an endless supply." Not entirely true, but that's her idea of a joke. "What were you doing in the Delirium Cauldron?!"

Cypher has posed:
Doug extends one hand, and catches towels -- he winds one around his waist with adroitness and a tight, secure knot, and the other across his shoulders, and a third on his head. He thrusts the apron back at Sam with one hand.

"I was taking a shower, I had to do an investiture ceremony today with the Countess of the Putrescent Pit and she barfed slime all over me. Fortunately she abided by your request and didn't mix her venom in with it, since that would, uh, dissolve me into a puddle." He hands Sam back his apron, and begins to dry his hair, vigorously.

"Well now I have no secrets from your girlfriend," Doug says, from under the towel.

Prismatic has posed:
    "Still have plenty of secrets, Doug, hardly saw anything for the light reflecting off." Alexis replies chipperly, scrunching her nose slightly at the kiss as she stiffles a yawn, and accepts a plate from Sam. She looks over the assembled folks in the kitchen.

    "... besides, it's not as if I've not seen someone's bum before."

Cannonball has posed:
Samuel Guthrie looks to the others and says "Hey at least we aren't all having to change clothes in limbo today." He grins over to the others and finds a place to sit. "So, you trying to get the demons to play nice with one another?' He will ask, before looking over to Alexis, "Told ya we have a bit of odd things happen with us.

Cypher has posed:
"And she has great aim." Doug says. "It's... there's a lot of rituals put into place to control the behavior of most of the demonic host. And I have to go through all of them. Apparently if we ever break up it's just a Klingon divorce, she strikes me with the back of her hand and either feeds me to her demons or has them bodily eject me from Limbo."

Doug stands there, looking awkward. "Yeah, but you hadn't seen mine, and that makes all the difference. I like him way more than Sy'm."

"Also apparently there's some thing about dying and having come back giving you greater clout amongst supernatural beings. I don't quite understand it, I need to brush up on my mythology." He looks up, and his stomach growls. "Oh, you're cooking?"

Magik has posed:
Illyana asides to Sam, "Hades," quite simply. Because it's apparently a point made at some... point.

Prismatic has posed:
    "Yes, if the whole 'I know all these amazing people, have been to Asgard and had a magic sword that cuts through anything except flesh, then most assuredly Doug striking business deals with demons is the most assuredly odd thing with the exception of his naked arrival." Alexis points out, and leans over to smooch Sam's cheek. "I have to make a call to see if the shelter needs me by this week. I'll be back in a moment." she states, grabs up her plate and hops to the bedroom.