10956/A Cider for Piotr

A Cider for Piotr
Date of Scene:	02 February 2020
Location:	Ororo's Attic - Xavier's School
Synopsis:	Piotr returns to Xavier's, and brings Ororo a gift of mulled cider!
Cast of Characters:	Colossus, Storm

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Colossus has posed:
    At the large double doors of the entrance to Xavier's mansion there is a little cascade of snow, freshly fallen and powdery. Just a faint brush of hands sending the flakes off the tall man's shoulders and to the ground where they melt into glistening beadlets of moisture around those heavy work boots even as the X-Man dusts himself clear of old man Winter's touch.
    It takes him a few moments to unwind that scarf from around his neck, his beanie cap already set to the side and hanging from the coat rack, only to be joined by his black pea coat he so often wears.
    Once that's done and he's divested of all the gear needed to venture out on a night like this, Piotr Rasputin turns and calls into the mansion proper from the foyer. "Hello!" His voice carries, deep and resonant. "Is the kitchen in use?" He asks as he starts to walk past those tall wending stairs so nearby with what is apparently a large paper bag of supplies tucked under his arm.

Storm has posed:
% "Hello! Who is yelling indoors?" someone calls back, in a lyrical and heavily accented voice. There's merriment in it, though, and Ororo emerges from a door on the other end of the hallway. A delighted grin splits her features, and when Piotr gets close she offers to help relieve him of one of the bags with one hand, and offers him a sisterly hug with one arm and a chaste kiss to the cheek. "It is so good to see you, Piotr," she informs him. "Come, I was just making some food for myself. Are you hungry?" she inquires.

Ororo's sole nod to the cold weather is a hand-knit shawl in a kaleidoscope of colors draped over her shoulders, pattered like a god's eye. The simple dress she wears hangs to her ankles, also hand-sewn, and sporting intricate patterns vaguely reminiscent of Delhi. With her hair worn loose and flowing today, the punk goddess is parked in her closet and the domestic goddess seems in full force. "How are the roads coming in to Westchester?" she inquires, convivially.

Colossus has posed:
    The young Russian's smile blossoms all the more as he steps toward the kitchen and now Ororo who helps him with his burden. "Ah, Ororo!" He leans his head down and to the side, accepting the kiss as if it were his Great Aunt granting it so kindly. She is given the second sack though it is decidedly light and within she likely sees it is mainly a mix of small packages with some spices, and several oranges.
    "I shall await til you are finished then, yes?" He strides down the hall and then turns, "I am not hungry, no. Though I had... a 'hankering' is it called?" That said he shoulders the door open and then holds it for her to enter with her usual grace.
    "Though if you can spare one burner that should suffice for me." That said he sweeps into the kitchen and begins to divest himself of the other bag, though this one seems to hold several quarts of apple cider, visible once he starts taking them out of the bag.
    "The roads seem fine. Slippery down the street where there is that small... reka? The creek? Perhaps it has overflowed a little and frozen."
    That said he starts to prepare as he can.

Storm has posed:
Ororo seems quite at home in the kitchen, and is busy with a crock pot and a large pot-- almost a cauldron-- simmering on the stove. It's easy enough to make room for the burly Russian, and she does so quite oblingingly. The pot simmers, redolent with the scent of spices, meats, and root vegetables.

"I'll ask Bobby if he can do something about it. I'd hate for someone to wreck their car," Ororo tells Piotr. She stirs the large pot, making a sturdy soup bone bob once against the surface of the soup. The preoccupation with food is something Piotr might well know; in America, a hot meal is never furthur away than the nearest gas station. In other countries, it's an ongoing labor, constantly preparing food and keeping it ready for hungry family members. Stone soup is often where scraps and leavings from other meals ends up and provides a ready source of sustenance.

"Do I smell cinnamon and... cloves?" she hazards. Her bright blue eyes sparkle in excitement. "I never get tired of that scent. What on Earth are you making?" she asks, and peers into the bags again with mounting curiousity.

Colossus has posed:
    "It is..." Piotr says as he helps clear an area but his lift of eyebrows signals a silent question as if making sure it's okay for him to take up this space. But if he truly seems to not be interfering with her efforts then he will stake his small claim. "Some allspice. And da, cloves and the cinnamon."
    As he speaks he produces each item, setting them on the prep island and then folding up the paper sacks to toss them in the recycling bin once they're empty. "Some oranges, and some cider. I had this... urge to sit next to the fire and have this to drink. You are, of course, welcome to join me."
    As he finishes speaking he's already digging into the cabinetry to find an appropriate sauce pan and cover. There is some discordant clanging as he pulls them free and he winces a little, shooting a silent 'sorry' in her direction before he turns back to the stove.
    "Though is nothing compared to your efforts, Ororo. It smells delicious. Had I known I would not have eaten earlier."

Storm has posed:
"I would enjoy that," Ororo tells Piotr, and smiles again. "And this is nothing special. There are always leftovers this time of year, and I find every enjoys a hot bowl of soup. I hate seeing food go to waste. It's not for everyone," she admits, stirring the pot slowly with the ladle. She sniffs, samples, and reaches for some of the spices over the oven. There's a bit of friednly jostling with Piotr but she expresses no territorialism, and smiles reassuringly when he makes a clattering of pots and pans. She even helps him by retrieving a decanter he'd likely need.

"So are you back for a while this time, I hope?" she inquires of the burly Russian. "It would be good to have you around. Nothing keeps the children in line like that scowl. 'Is problem here?'" she quips, in a pretty good imitation of his accent, and a comical pitch of her rich alto voice.

Colossus has posed:
    It is something rare to share a kitchen with another who finds the process of cooking an enjoyable one and the jostling is the barest of hurdles. He takes little time to get the ingredients prepped and the cider poured, setting the sauce pan upon the heat and then getting clear of Ororo's way. It's against the counter nearest the window that looks out upon the rear grounds that Piotr makes his home, arms folded over his broad chest as he smiles in her direction.
    "I am home until some emergency or another calls for our attention, yes?" But then she does her best effort of a Piotrpression and she'll hear him exhale a bit sharply, something that likely would be a laugh if he was more effusive. Or less Russian. But the smile is warm when she looks to him again.
    With perhaps a little more exaggerated accent he tells her, "Is not always so. Sometimes I have but to look at them. Like so." And his eyes narrow as he gives her his best Dolph Lundgren crossed with Clint Eastwood stare. Which considering the time they've spent growing up together in this school, might be all the more ludicrous seeming.
    "Though, in truth," His tone lightens, "Since I have been back most have been very polite. Save for Julian. He had the detention yesterday."

Storm has posed:
"Three times this month," Ororo sighs, and her shoulders heave under the shawl. "He's going to be working in the greenhouse until he finishes college, at this rate." Ororo is a strong fan of manual labor as a corrective punishment. "Perhaps you can pull him aside and talk to him. Do one of those men things you do-- take him ice fishing, share a little vodka, talk about feelings without making eye contact."

Ororo's itchy fingers have her poking at the simmering cider just to make sure it's not burning, but she manages to largely refrain from dipping her literal soup spoon in Piotr's proverbial (and literal) bowl.

Colossus has posed:
    Another snort of an exhale, though this one closer to a laugh as he leans forward and stirs at the cider for a moment. "Already I took him for the chopping of wood." Piotr says, eyebrows climbing as he continues to stir, the whisk making a faint metal on metal scraping sound against the inside of the sauce pan.
    "What is it I should do next, make him wrestle bear?" Those last two words are spoken with a little more of an accent as if to complete the mental image he just conjured. But then he casually nudges her with his hip to make her not even think of dipping her nasty soup spoon into his bowl.
    "There is perhaps something else preying upon his thoughts." He says thoughtfully and then his eyes distance before he looks back to Ororo. "Perhaps he is performing? To gain attention of girl?"

Storm has posed:
"That's as good an explanation as any. Either that, or cabin fever," Ororo agrees. She oofs theatrically and staggers sideways, going back to dicing potatoes with a deft flickering of a large cutting knife. "Either way, I'd take it as a favor if you'd pull him aside. He respects you," she assures Piotr.

"Anyway," she says, waving the issue off with a free hand. The roots are added to the soup bowl and more stock is poured in. "Have you seen your sister lately? She's been a bit absent lately. I do worry about her not socializing enough," Ororo frets. "She pretends that she's not lonely, but I can't help but feel like some more human contact would be good for her."

Colossus has posed:
    She can likely see the way he grimaces slightly at the prospect, though he lifts his eyebrows upwards and agrees with a small nod. "Very well, I shall find a reason to take time with him. Perhaps I shall ask his help tomorrow when I must go into the city." That said he pushes the sauce pan a little with one hand, getting some of the spices to settle more and to cause the orange slices to shift.
    "Illyana?" He then asks, as if she meant someone else. He nods again, though there's a furrow to his brow. "We have caught up, and had a fine talk some nights ago. She has told me some of what is going on in her life."
    He straightens and then moves toward another of the cupboards, pulling open the door and digging around for some suitable mugs. Two are claimed for now and he takes them back to the prep island where he'll set a cinnamon stick in each before he turns back toward her.
    "She has told me of a great dragon. Of some of the troubles that have crossed her path." A pause as he looks to the side, "And that she is dating Douglas." Their old comrade.

Storm has posed:
Ororo does fully move aside and finds a clear stretch on the island nearby; she folds her arms across her stomach and waits patiently for Piotr to finish preparing the beverages. Fingers push her cascading white hair from one side to another, revealing a flash of smooth-shorn skin at her temples.

"Douglas? I am glad they're enjoying each other's company. They always struck me as a cute couple," she tells Piotr. A smile flashes across her face. "You tell her though, if she needs help, she needs only ask. I do adore her so; there is family here if she needs it."

When the mug is offered she extends both hands to take it, and offers a salute with the rim towards the Russian. Ororo takes a slow sip, and her eyes lid in blissful content. "My goodness, that is precisely what the doctor ordered. Are you sure you're not a precog? I didn't even know I was craving this," she teases him.

Colossus has posed:
    "I think," Piotr begins as he starts to pour the now lovely mulled cider into the mugs, the pot tilting on its side as he very gingerly makes the transition from preparation to serving. "That he may be avoiding me." The second to last word coming in a little hard on the 'ing'. A small smile plays on his lips, "Which is foolish. Perhaps expecting me to glower most dour and threaten him with what I would do to him if he hurts my little Snowflake."
    Piotr then sets the sauce pan back down, making sure the burner is off and then he takes up a seat opposite her there at the middle table area. Settling in gingerly upon the chair, in case it might not be able to support his considerable weight, he meets her eyes with his own and smiles. "When in truth nothing I could do could compare with whatever form Illyana's wrath would take."
    Which, is rather very much true.
    As she praises his choice of hankerings, Piotr chuckles and lifts the mug to clink it gently against hers. "It was the weather that put in mind for it, da? Perhaps thus it is in truth your subconscious that let the wind be a little stronger. The snow a little heavier. And the chill a little greater. Just so, to convey your urges for such a thing, yes?"

Storm has posed:
"Possibly," Ororo says, with a grin. "But the cold doesn't bother me much. It's all Mother's weather, after all. The desert and the arctic alike are both part of her; why should I be more comfortable in one than the other?"

"But this reminds me of cold nights in the desert, and drinking hot meals out of an old soup cup. When I was a very little girl," she clarifies. "There is something wholesome and hearty about a warm beverage. It goes right to the soul."

She sips, smacks her lips, and uplifts her chin at Piotr. "Are you staying for the spring term, then? It'd be nice to have you in the teacher's lounge again. I'm still teaching botany and language classes; having you back in the art studio would be wonderful. We have some very talented young students in need of some mentorship in that regard."

Colossus has posed:
    As Ororo shares a small window into her life, Piotr meets her smile with his own. He sets his mug down upon the tabletop, both his hands curled around it as he holds her gaze. "Is good that you try to give others some connection to that touchstone of your past, Ororo." He lets his eyes drift to the stone soup that is smelling so good.
    Then back to her as she asks further about his plans. At first there's a nod. "Da, I have plans to resume teaching at least some art classes depending on the amount of interest. And to take up what physical education needs tending to." His eyes furrow as he looks off into the distance as if gathering up his plans before sharing them.
    "Also I was thinking of teaching a class in Mutant Town, though I know not how it shall be received." He smiles and looks back to her, "Ah, and I have accepted a part time position at Nevinsky's Gym in Little Odessa. If only to perhaps meet new people."

Storm has posed:
"I think you'd be very well suited for that," Ororo assures Piotr. She beams a smile. "But perhaps let someone else do the physical education?" she says, with a lilting tone of good humor. "I've seen how you eat. Let some of us who worry about our metabolism help with diet and exercise," she says, and pats her admittedly trim tummy. "You and Logan can toss boulders all day and barely break a sweat, but some of us *do* need to follow a more traditional workout plan."

She eases off the counter. "It's quite late for me, so I think I'll turn in. I'm glad you're here, Piotr," she says again, and gives his forearm a quick squeeze. "Thank you so much for the thoughtful drink. Do come up and say hello later, my door's always open," she reminds him-- the attic, a refuge for anyone who needs some space from the clamour of the sometimes over-crowded mansion below.

Colossus has posed:
    The mug is lifted to her in a small salute as he watches her depart, "Thank you Ororo, I missed you while I was gone." That said he watches her as she makes her departure and takes another sip before he looks around and hrms to himself. Already mentally making a list of what he must do to clean up. That decided he rises and starts to do so.