the_lioness | (no subject)

(no subject)

It's early evening when Alanna returns home, not that one could tell by looking out the window. The sun has long since set, and the darkness is broken only by the moon's glow on the frost packed ground.

She could have cheated and returned yesterday with Adam, but Raoul had been riding this way on patrol, and they'd have much to discuss.

A fact she frequently had to remind herself of during the long, cold journey.

The door creaks shut behind her, blocking the worst of the wind, and she stamps her feet in the entranceway for a full minute before looking up. Water and frozen dirt sully the clean floor.

"Not a word of welcome for the weary warrior? I like that," she grouses, turning in circles as she struggles to restore blood flow to her feet.

There's a fire in the library, at least, and she hones in on its flicker with a shiver and a smile. Looking around the corner, she doesn't immediately spy anyone inside and takes that as a good enough reason to start shedding road-damp layers.

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She doesn't see anyone because people are not in places where they're likely to be seen. Places like on couches or in chairs.

See, if she'd merely change her view to that of where would I sit if I was a ninja, or perhaps incapable of walking on my own, or....perhaps both she might just spy the people hidden in this picture.

On the floor, back enough from the fire so as to avoid dangerous sparks, is what might possibly be the very first Tortallian Beanbag Chair. It's about six and a half feet in diameter and is now playing host to one Raphael as well as little Thom and Jamie Young. All three are snoring softly.

Facing the fire, and using a spare section of beanbag as a back rest is Michaelangelo. His gaze shifts from the fire crackling before him to the small sleeping Grace in his arms. Absently he leans forward and places a kiss on her forehead.

There's a light thud as the book Raphael was holding falls to the floor.
A handmade Tortoise and the Hare.

Storytime: Not just for knocking out kidlets anymore.

Hopping in place, Alanna pulls off both her boots and leaves them in a messy heap on the hall floor, along with cloak, tunic and over shirt. She's combing her fingers through tangled wet hair as she pads into the library, entertaining notions of hot tea and a warm meal.

Thud.

Someone snores. Her ears are still buzzing from the ride, but Alanna lifts her head at the first sound and an eyebrow at the next, stopping short of throwing herself on the couch. A half turn to her left, and she discovers the culprit. All five culprits. She smiles -- it would be impossible not to -- and slowly gathers a pillow and blanket without making a sound.

They look really comfortable. Even Raph.

There's plenty of room still beside Mike and it's there that she decides to settle herself, dropping a light hand on his shoulder as she steps over his feet.

"Mind if I join you?"

Mike doesn't jump. Ninjas don't startle. It's just that he was lulled by the fire and the warmth and the sense of family. It's all very hypnotic.

"Huh? oh! hey! of course! here lemme skootch over. how was your trip?"

Gently Mike slides over to allow Alanna more space to maneuver. Grace stirs slightly, but rolls right back into a deep sleep.

Hypnotic is a good word for the sense of contentment that steals over Alanna. She tucks the blanket around her chilled legs, shoulder to shoulder with Mike, and lightly brushes a finger over the red fuzz on top of Grace's head.

"Fantastic. I wouldn't be exaggerating if I said it was a dream come true."

One arm sneaks around the back of the bean bag until her fingertips find the fallen book. She pulls it close enough to see what it is, and smiles.

"How long have they been asleep?"

They certainly show no signs of waking, if the snoring is any indication.

At this point nothing short of a freight train would wake Raph.

Warm and fuzzy is no time to attempt math, which is why Mike has to think extra hard to answer Alanna's question.

"not too too long. i mean, they've slept through a couple of the big logs. so what's that, hour or so tops? if we have to wake them at least give me time to get out of arm reach."

Says Mike with a chuckle.

"No need." Her voice is still low, but she's dropped the whisper. "He forgets to scowl when he's sleeping. It's cute."

Instinctively -- and despite the fact Raph is asleep and thus unable to smack her -- she presses closer to Mike's side, laughing softly.

"don't worry, grace will protect us. as you can see raph is utterly defenseless against small children."

It's true, Raph is hopelessly barricaded in the beanbag by the bookends of Jamie and Thom.

"i know it's going to sound sick, but i'm just happy to see him move every once and a while. even it if it means having to listen to him snore."

"Yes, the boys seem to have cornered him quite efficiently." A thoughtful look. "We could always put his hand in warm water," she suggests.

Some things are universal.

"But not yet. First I wish to share my news."

Alanna is beaming.

Mike looks taken aback at the mere mention of encouraging someone to sully the beanbag.

"Quick, tell me your news before your previous suggestion keeps me from sleeping nights."

"Jon summoned me to Corus so I could be there when he and Thayet proclaimed it legal for girls to train for knighthood. You, my girl," and she kisses Grace's head, "can now be a knight if you wish."

It's possible Alanna is expecting that to be the case.

"Without the cross-dressing," she adds.

"Seriously? That...that's awesome! Amazing even! I think this might just be cause for some sort of celebration."

Mike ponders for all of two seconds.

"Hot cocoa?"

Even though there's already been a great deal of celebrating, Alanna eagerly agrees -- especially when Mike spurns the more traditional celebratory beverages in favor of cocoa.

"Hot liquid chocolate? I'm not sure I would trust a person who could say no to that," she remarks. "As Cook allowed you back in the kitchen?"

Her lips twitch.

"I'm not going to dignify that with an answer."

Which is a clear, present, and resounding NO!

"And even if I was planning to dignify that with an answer it doesn't matter either way, because the fire here is suits my needs just fine, thank you very much."

Alanna makes a valiant effort not to laugh, but a strangled wheeze escapes. Every time Cook and Mike cross paths, chaos results. Sometimes very tasty chaos, but chaos nonetheless.

"Bring him berries," she suggests. "The purple ones by the old stone wall. You'll be back in his good graces in no time."

Or at least shouted at less.

"The fire, hmmm? I'm glad to hear it. I wouldn't have liked to leave it behind."

Oh the eye'ing she's getting.
Is it for the not so stifled laughter?
Or is it for the suggestion of the berries.

THE WORLD MAY NEVER KNOW!
Until later, of course, when he goes to look for the stone berries by the purple wall.

"Oh yeah, All it takes is a grate, a little balance, and a pan of milk...and Violla! Instant hot cocoa."

The eyeing is met with a mutinous expression. "He likes to make tarts!" (And Alanna likes to eat them.) "I learned quickly how to win him over."

Skeptical, she arches an eyebrow and reaches to take Grace off his hands.

"Just a little balance?" she asks, a mischievous look in her eye.

This could be interesting.

"I'm sure being Lady of the house doesn't help either."

Mike carefully hands over Grace before rolling to his feet.
Off to one side of the fire sits a bucket of water in which a large carafe is situated. At one time it was full of milk, but stories by the fire is a thirsty business, so now it's maybe a quarter full. Though a small amount by comparison it is still quite enough for a good sized mug of cocoa.

He fetches the carafe, carrying it closer to the fire, and his make shift stove. It really is a metal grate that he has balanced on his 'log cabin' style fire. The cast iron pot is rinsed in the now carafe'less bucket before being filled with the remainder of the milk and placed on the grate. While the milk warms Mike sets himself to cleaning one of the previously used mugs, again using water from the cooling bucket.

"So this lady knight thing, does it mean that there's going to be more spaces or fewer?"

Grace kicks out a leg, as if indignant at being handed around like a sack of grain, and Alanna briefly has her hands full getting her back to sleep. She looks up as Mike begins to clean the mug, and smiles.

"Same amount of spaces, but now girls will have as much right as boys to earn them. Noble girls. But Thayet is starting a rider group that will be open to boys and girls from all walks of life." Her eyes are bright with excitement. "I plan on helping her. Careful, or you might wind up the resident ninja instructor."

Oh that gets a chuckle out of him.

"Yeah...you know I tried that for a while back at the Bar, never really took. I'm not much of a teacher. You want one of those, you'll have to get that knucklehead over there. Or you know..."

Mike mouthes the name LEO.

"Now if you want your little recruits to know how to make pancakes like we did in the pre-historic times, that I'm all game for."

The milk gets a stir.

"How does it feel to be riding point on a cultural revolution?"

"Brooding is the first thing that pops to mind when considering what subjects Raph might be qualified to teach," she snorts.

Cultural revolution. No one else has put it that way, and she's momentarily struck silent at the implications.

"Incredible," and it's hoarse and honest. "We won't change everyone's minds at once, and some might say these changes leave Jon vulnerable, but it will all be worth it in the end. We're strong enough to see it through," she vows.

"Can't please all of the people all the time, best you can hope for is ambivalent tolerance. Oooh, maybe cookies could help too, you know...in a pinch.

I know when ever I have news I don't think other people are going to like giving them cookies helps.

Hard to stay mad at someone who's given you cookies."

His is a wisdom for the ages.

The response is so completely Mike that Alanna shakes with silent laughter, holding a hand to Grace's head to keep from disturbing her overly much. It's either madness or genius, and as a firm believer in the fine line between them, Alanna finds she is seriously considering the idea.

"That would depend on who did the baking, I think."

Her cookies might start a civil war.

"I'll suggest cookies as a plan of action to Jon before his next council meeting. Even conservatives aren't immune to sweets." If anything, knowing the conservatives in question, having watched them stuff themselves while the people starved, she's inclined to say they might be particularly susceptible.

Mike considers this.

"You know I'm always here for you if you need me, but you might get better results from Annie Wells. She like...measures things when she cooks with them. With like...scales."

He sticks a pinky into the simmering milk to test for temperature.

"Oooh almost there."

"I know of her, but we haven't met," Alanna tells him, lowering her voice again and watching his finger for burns. "Mike, can I ask you a question?"

She licks her lips, suddenly thirsty.

He glances at her quickly before returning to the task at hand.

"Sure thing. What's up?"