Amity is humming to herself as she floats around the kitchen. She's light on her feet and there's a kitchen timer ticking away on the counter. The kitchen itself is toasty--the oven is going and the old furnace is rumbling away now that winter is well and truly started. Amity is actually wearing an apron she must have found in here, a pretty blue and white checkered thing that looks straight out of the 1950s or 1960s. The kitchen itself smells deliciously of cinnamon, sugar, and faintly, vanilla and coffee? A bluetooth speaker is on the counter next to the timer blasting a playlist that must be 'Best of '80s pop' or something similar, since Cyndi Laupier is belting out "Girls just wanna have fuunNNnnn~!"
Mavis slumps up the front steps of the Baines' manse onto its porch, unlocks the front door, and divests herself of her winter garments and work jumper in the mudroom. She emerges from the mudroom in her fuzzy, purple and green striped socks and her regular clothes and-- surprise, surprise-- Mavis is wearing a plain ole t-shirt and some worn out jeans..
She hears music from the kitchen, smells something absolutely intoxicating, and hangs her heart on the hope that Amity is possibly b-a-k-i-n-g.
Clad for stealth-- thanks, fuzzy socks-- Mavis peeks her head into the kitchen and doesn't say anything for a few moments. For those few moments, she just studies Amity while the Changeling assumes herself to be alone. She announces her presence with a feigned throat clearing then creeps into the kitchen. When she's close, she grins hugely. That smile doesn't just touch her eyes, but her ears too. The tips slide just a couple millimeters higher as she beams at Amity.
"You look," Mavis' gaze drops down to the apron and lifts back up again, "abso-fucking-lutely adorable." And happy, she wanted to add.. Amity looks happy, too, but she couldn't say that for fear that it would recall Amity's sadness. Instead, Mavis slips her arms around Amity's shoulders and purrs into her ear, "What are you cooking?"
"Hmm when the working day is done--" Amity is singing along and actually has a decent voice, though she's obviously got nothing on Cyndi. When Mavis clears her throat, Amity lets out a little shriek of surprise and whirls around, covering her mouth with her hands as the pop music blares on. The Wizened woman's cheeks are bright pink and when she lays eyes on Mavis she actually giggles. A little. It's mostly a nervous, embarrassed sound, but it's there!
"That's twice today someone has snuck up on me in the kitchen," Amity complains before she's wrapped up in a hug. She squeezes Mavis tight in return. SHe's relieved to have the other woman home, honestly. She nuzzles against Mavis' hair, dipping herself a little lower.
"Coffee cake. I got tired of sitting around and knitting so I decided to do something else productive..."
"Twice today?" Mavis echoes back while resting her cheek against Amity's shoulder. This is after she sniffs the Amity's hair, of course, but she was sly about that and breathed in the scent as she turned her head to pillow her cheek. She stares off and just so happens to be staring blankly at the oven. Oh man. Coffee cake sounds like bliss. It smelled like bliss. She wanted it. Mavis lifts her head and steals a glimpse into Amity's eyes.
Mavis is typically very good at concealing her anger or irritation, but her nostrils flare and she gives Amity a flintier look than the Lost woman deserves. Her arms straighten out as she leans back to better see Amity's face and her fingers knit behind the Changeling's neck. Her hands were cold, carrying the chill from outside in them.
"Who else came by?" she asks, concern in her voice and a tightening of her jaw.
Amity seems... a touch confused by the look. She takes a breath though and gives an answer: "Widget. I was making bacon." As if merely the act of cooking bacon would draw the other woman here. For all she knew, it did. "I made her clean herself up and washed her clothes for her. We watched a movie." She likes Widget, really. She's just not sure how to exactly handle the gremlin.
"How was work...?" She hesitates for a moment. "You saw November."
"Oh!" In an instant, Mavis' entire demeanor shifts and she resumes her easy, broad grin from just a moment before. It was like watching the sun blaze bright in a break between dark storm clouds. "Widget!" She sweeps in to peck Amity on the cheek then wanders over to peek inside of the fridge. "How is she?" It's like nothing had happened and Mavis hadn't just turned frosty on Amity a second ago.
She shrugs when asked about work and answers, honestly, "Not bad. Busy." Mavis closes the fridge, bottle of water in her hand. Fingers with multiple mismatched rings band her fingers and bracelets layer her wrists. Her eyes go flat when Amity mentions November and she opens the bottle, takes a sip, then lowers the bottle back down with about a quarter of the water gone. The whole time, she never broke eye contact with Amity.
"Yeah," she says. Mavis is careful, very careful, to not offer her own opinions of that rainbow visage. "Yeah, I did. That's... what you see with her all of the time?"
"Same as always, really." Don't think Amity didn't notice that, Mavis. She just doesn't really know how to respond to it yet. But it's tucked away for later when she can better determine what the hell that really means. She turns, leans slightly against the counter and watches Mavis as she opens her bottle of water and gulps it down. Then, Amity nods, her eyes not leaving Mavis'.
"Yes. Every time I see her, every time I'm near to her I feel that. I see that. It's overwhelming."
Mavis brings the bottle back up to her lips and nearly drains it this time. When she's done drinking, there's only a few swigs left. She walks over to the counter to put her water down and glances at Amity. "It's not her fault, you know," she points out in a gentle way, reaching out to seek one of Amity's hands to hold in her own.
Amity lets her hand be taken, but her brow furrows. She searches Mavis' face, confused. "...What isn't her fault?"
The mortal's icy fingers lace through Amity's. There's a faint whiff of cigarette smoke on her, but it's subtle. Very subtle. There and gone again.
Mavis blinks at Amity and when she speaks it's like she's timidly pointing out something that ought to have been obvious. "The way she.. uh.. looks? You know. All of the," Mavis uses her free hand to draw a whirlwind over her head in a wild swoop, "colors and.. glowing. I mean, maybe it's different for Lost." She winces. "Is it?"
"It's complicated," Amity says, voice quiet. She looks down at her hand joined to Mavis' and tries to form her next words carefully. "...She is like that because she is more connected to the fate. The Wyrd. We only do that if we spend more time dealing with the Hedge and fae business and less with the mortal realm. So. It may not be her fault, not entirely. But to get to where she is? To be as she is? There is a degree of choice that must be made to be like November."
Mavis listens, but then the first thing she says is a matter-of-fact, "November told me that." Then, timidly added, "Some of it. There... There really is a lot to this, isn't there? And vampires are ALSO a thing?" She stares shookethed at Amity. "This is what I meant when I asked you if there was anything else that I _should_ know." The mortal pauses, brows furrowing as she thinks about November's predicament with new knowledge. "The Hedge?" She'd heard that mentioned before and it rang a bell. A second later, a flash of insecurity races across her features. She looks warily into Amity eyes and asks her, "Do you think... November has done the things the Gentry do?" What Amity's old Keeper did. "She doesn't /feel/ evil to me, Sunbeam. I think she wants us to be happy."
Amity takes a deep breath. Hoo boy. She needs to figure out how to deal with these questions even more delicately. The first gets a nod. "Mm. Yes, so I hear. I have not encountered one myself, though. I have no real desire to." She glances to the side, then smiles and looks back to Mavis, more amused than horrified. "No. I don't think she has. Not in the same way? She... I don't like her. She makes me uncomfortable. But she hasn't kidnapped people to make them her /slaves/." Right. The Hedge--she kind of skipped past that. "The Hedge is the space between the moral realm and Arcadia. It's liminal. And it's dangerous."
Mavis bites her lip, watching Amity expectantly while she talks about November and she nods like what her girlfriend is saying is about what she'd expected to hear. As insane as it might seem, that was the answer Mavis figured she'd get. "I didn't think so either," she shares with a squeeze to Amity's fingers. As for the Hedge, Mavis merely grins impishly, pecks the Lost quickly on the lips and says, cheerfully, "I'll just stay out of it then." Simple as that!
Sobering a little, Mavis wonders in a shy, soft voice, "I dunno that it's fair to hate someone 'cos of how they look." She sighs and steps back, holding out her light-brown arms for Amity to see. "Look at my skin, Amity. Do you think I had a lot of mixed kids to make friends with growing up?"
Amity exhales softly as Mavis says she'll stay out of the Hedge. Good. A relief. Not that Mavis couldn't stumble into it unaware or unmeaning, but promising to avoid seeking it out helps bring down some of the anxiety that Amity feels. She leans over, returns the kiss, and leans back. Then, when Mavis speaks again there's... something. Her brow furrows, mouth opens. Closes. She looks down and away before she can look back at Mavis.
"Mavis, this isn't the /same/ as that. That isn't fair." She tries to keep the annoyance out of her voice and isn't sure if she succeeds. "When I'm around her every single part of my brain is screaming at me to--to act like I belong to her!"
"You're right," she concedes in clipped words, shrugging as if it made no difference in the world to her. "It's not fai-" She halts her words when Amity yells at her, eyes widening and brows climbing. Mavis blinks, letting those words sink in and shakes her head.
"Well," goes a composed Mavis, "you're not hers." Pause. "You are /mine/." Another pause. She adds abashedly, trying to give Amity a reassuring look which turns out to be something of an anxious smile. ""For as long as you would like to be, anyways. You can leave any time you want." It hurt her a bit to say that, but she meant it despite doubting that she could have kept Amity at bay even if she'd wished to trap her.
Amity closes her eyes again. Breathes in. Breathes out. Focus and get yourself settled, Amity. When she opens them again, she looks at Mavis and does her best to radiate her usual calm demeanor. "Thank you. I... I would like that. To be yours, I mean." She sighs. "I'm sorry--it's..." What does she say? How does she explain? "It's hard to talk about."
Mavis can't help but smile and she bites down on it in an effort to keep the joy off of her face. It didn't seem right to be so happy with Amity at such a stark contrast. The mortal manages to bottle that elation up to preen over later.
"Don't be sorry, Amity," she tells her then glances over her shoulder at the timer Amity had set for the coffee cake. "Your cake's about done," notes Mavis a bit absently then, as if she hadn't veered off course, she goes on with, "I don't want you to do anything you don't want to do, okay? This is your home. If you don't want November in the house then she's not welcome and she DID say that she would respect your wishes." Mavis gives her a weak smile. "I respect them too. I just.. wanted to understand better where all of this was coming from." And to hear it from Amity's own mouth.
Amity is distracted by the mention of her cake. "Oh! The cake!" She glances at the timer and then hurries to the oven so she can peer at the cake through the door. Hmm. She glances over at Mavis, sheepish. "Thank you for understanding. I... It's going to take me some time to get used to her, that's all." That was not, in fact, all but she's not going to admit that. "This cake is going to be delicious."
Amity is distracted by the mention of her cake. "Oh! The cake!" She glances at the timer and then hurries to the oven so she can peer at the cake through the door. Hmm. She glances over at Mavis, sheepish. "Thank you for understanding. I... It's going to take me some time to get used to her, that's all." That was not, in fact, all but she's not going to admit that. "This cake is going to be delicious."
"I dunno about understanding," Mavis remarks somewhat sheepishly, "but I would like to understand better, at least." If that made any sense at all.
She moves over to lean where Amity had been leaning against the counter, choosing this spot to watch the Lost fuss over the cake in the oven. Talking about it was making her hungry and Mavis remembers shoving a sandwich into her mouth on her lunch break several hours ago. "I'm smells fuckn' /amazing/," she tells Amity, drifting a little closer.
Amity consults the timer, then opens the oven and reaches out to gently press against the top of the cake with her fingers. Apparently satisfied, she takes hold of a pair of hotpads and tugs the cake free and sets it on the stovetop to cool. "There'll be cake in a little bit. It has to cool first."
"Yaaaass," Mavis glees and she puts both hands on the edge of the counter to lift herself up onto it and perch there. She beams like a five year old at Amity, the sliver-gap between her incisors peeking out when she smiles that big. After few seconds, she sobers a little and asks, "What'd Wij want, anyway? It's not Breakfast Day."
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