12417/Roll for Snickerdoodles

Roll for Snickerdoodles
Date of Scene:	13 August 2022
Location:	105 W 29th - Jon and Cael's Apartment
Synopsis:	Cael fails at Snickerdoodles - but after some time reassuring one another that they are loved and safe, Jon teaches Cael how to avoid poisoning people with inedible cookies.
Cast of Characters:	Cael Becker, Jonathan Sims

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Cael Becker has posed:
    There are so many things the go wrong. First off - she's never actually turned this oven on. And it seems like everytime she glances at the oven - the oven temperature just isn't reading as high enough (has Cael never heard of pre-heating?!) so she keeps hitting the 'up' arrow. Secondly - she didn't really understand the whole 'creaming' thing. Besides - the butter wasn't mixing well with the sugar - so she nuked it. And then she cracked the eggs into the hot butter, getting some shells in there - and partially scrambling some of the eggs. Oh - and you know how browned butter is a good thing? Burnt butter - not so much.
    Also: she mixed up 'teaspoons' and 'tablespoons.' So the cookies are salty - with far too much cinnamon.
    So the aroma Jon emerges to is far from appetizing, and Cael looks frustrated and perplexed as she as she glares at the oven. She hit the 'off' button a few moments earlier, because smoke seemed to be coming out of it - and she was pretty sure that's not how it's supposed to go.
    Just outside of the kitchen area, Bear sits with his head cocked to the side, watching the excitement from a safe distance.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon neither hears nor smells the commotion at first, because he's in the shower, curled up in a ball, surrounded by feathers that he's plucked off his form, feathers that seem to want to grow back in regardless of the sunlight he's poured through his arteries. He's been crying, and he may have punched a wall. Maybe more than once. The wall's fine, but Jon's knuckles wind up bloody despite healing over /very/ quickly. Even the healing, watching the scrapes close up and the bruising fade before it can really appear, makes Jon cry more.

    He's really just not human anymore, is he?

    All that time in Hell and the Astral and he never really dealt with the ramifications of his new body, aside from the fact that he can regenerate it. But today really just... hammered the point home. He's not human anymore. He's not /mortal/ any more. He could probably, if he really wanted, figure out how to shapeshift into an actual bird.

    He's blow-drying his hair when realizes this, and blinks into the mirror at the thought. Hunh. Well, that might not be... /that/ bad.

    He's still pulling a pick through his hair when he comes out of the bedroom to investigate the source of the horrible smell. He's wearing pajama pants and a t-shirt, feet bare, looking like he's just decided that he's done with everything for the night and ready for bed. He surveys the kitchen with wide-eyed horror. "Cael... what did you... /do/?!"

Cael Becker has posed:
    "Well, if I knew the answer to //that//-!" Cael replies in frustratation. She's staring at her phone, and at her batter, trying to figure it out. The batter isn't //that// liquidy from the melted butter. See, she'd known enough to know you should be able to make balls. Besides - the recipe said it. //Balls.//
    ...so she'd added more flour.
    She takes some of the batter out of the bowl, tastes it, and makes a face. "Okay. I, uh- shouldn't have bothered with the baking step. That's not how dough is supposed to taste. Fuck - I'm sorry, Jon," she says sincerely, giving the an apologetic look. She'd //wanted// to have a nice treat for them when they emerged from the shower.
    "It's like I need fucking supervision," she says wryly, as she moves towards them, to give Jon a hug. "...or maybe I just shouldn't try baking alone when there's so much on my mind."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon keeps pulling the pick through his hair as he walks in to the kitchen, looking everything over. "You need to have an understanding of the fundamentals, I think," he comments. "Cooking's easier to save if you mess it up, but baking's very particular." A pause. "Did you read the recipe first and make sure you knew how to do everything involved? Measure everything out first? Like that?" He raises a brow. By his tone... he somehow doesn't think so.

    He eyes the mess, and then waves the hand holding the pick. A whole chorus line of disembodied green arms suddenly appear and start cleaning up. "It's fine," he murmurs as he wraps his real arms around Cael. Hopefully she won't notice the blood on his knuckles. "I appreciate the effort, and the attempt. We can just order in." His tone sounds... tired. Wrung out.

Cael Becker has posed:
    "I read it as I was going along," Cael says a bit defensively. "I mean- it's not- it can't be //that// hard." Right? ... right.
    She lets out a sigh, and falls into Jon's arms - reaching up one hand to grip the back of their head. "It won't be the same if it wasn't made //for// you. I really did want to get it right..." She lets out a sigh, then pulls back a little to peer up at Jon's face. "The shower helped?" she asks hopefully. "How do I help you tonight, Jon? You know that's all I want. I just want to be whatever it is you need tonight."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon chuckles. "If you read it beforehand, then you'd have an idea of what you might need to do, and be prepared for curveballs." He ponders for a moment, fingers of his right hand running through Cael's hair. His /right/ hand. It shouldn't have feeling anymore. It shouldn't--

    He shudders and pulls away. "Sorry. Umm. Not your fault, it's just--" He sighs. "It's. You know. The hand. The arm. The whole... thing."

    They ponder for a moment. "Look, maybe let's try making them together? That way your intent goes into the batter, but they're /edible/." They grin. "Plus, I can summon some of my water, give it that extra oomph."

Cael Becker has posed:
    "There's no water in the recipe..." Is there? Is that what she- no. She's pretty sure that's //not// what she got wrong - but she nods at Jon's suggestion. "I want to make something for you."
    That said - she reaches for Jon's right hand - capturing it and kissing it deliberately, before taking their left hand in hers, like she usually does - giving it a squeeze. "I love //you// - no matter what physical form you take. I'm- I'm sorry that you suffered tonight, that- That your will, and your autonomy, and your body were-" Well, there's no pretty way to put it, is there? "-were violated. I'll be here for, whenever you need me. Alright? But I love you, no matter the form, because what I love is here," she gently presses her free hand into Jon's chest. "And here." She moves her hand to gently cup their face, leaving it there as she murmurs quietly, "You'll always be my Mariposa; that's all that matters to me."
    She holds their gaze for a moment, then glances down at Jon's left hand - a frown appearing on her features. "We should clean and bandage that up before we cook. Yeah?" There's no judgement or accusation - but there's no hiding the concern she feels at the sight of the blood.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "Doesn't need bandaging," Jon murmurs, glancing down at the hand. "All the damage I did punching the wall just... healed right up." He swallows. "She was right about one thing. I'm just... mimicking what I used to be. I could probably change my entire form, if I wanted to." They kind of stare /through/ Cael for a moment, brow twitching as it furrows and unfurrows.

    "Salt," they say, suddenly, after a moment. They flash a smile. "I can summon the salt. Just a teaspoon or so, right?. There's about two tablespoons of salt in a kilogram of sea water, so I need about 170 milliliters, a little less than a cup..." They lean down to kiss Cael's forehead, then wave a hand and start pouring salt water from nowhere into a pot that they set on the stove. The pot winds up lidded, and one of the disembodied arms goes to tend the pot.

    "Alright," he says. "Show me that recipe, and let's read through it and start collecting what we'll need, okay?"

Cael Becker has posed:
    "But the soul, the heart, the mind, is still Jonathan Sims," Cael counters. She sighs then adds, "I- I understand this is difficult, I'd probably be reacting like this too, so- I get it. But like I said, you're still you, despite everything, yeah?" She pulls Jon in close, giving them a tight hug as she insists, "You're still the person I fell in love with, and the Gods can't take that away from us."
    As Jon starts to move straight into cooking, Cael pulls away again, giving a nod. She does gently pull them towards the sink before adding firmly, "Wash your hands, love." They don't need blood in the cookies.
    "It started off with butter and sugar. But the butter was mixing right, so I microwaves it for a few minutes to melt it."
    Yup. A few //minutes.//

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon was already moving to wash his hands; he stops to let Cael give him a hug. "I know that," he says, not really looking at her, tone vaguely irritated. "That was never really in doubt." He shakes his head, takes a deep breath, and focuses on washing his hands.

    "Alright. So. Let's see that recipe, and read through it, which is /always/ the first step in any recipe, alright? Read through it first. If you don't have something, you can go buy it or figure out a substitution. If you don't know how to do something, like creaming butter and sugar, you can look it up--or find another recipe that doesn't call for the technique you don't know. But. Grab the ingredients, alright? Don't measure anything out yet, just put everything on the counter. Except salt. I'm providing the salt."

    A pause. "If you need to melt butter in the microwave, go in 30-second increments. Microwaves work /fast/. Always go with small increments unless you're sure of what you're doing."

Cael Becker has posed:
    "...I'm saying the wrong things again?" Cael asks. "Should I be listening better?" Her expression borders on apologetic. She //knows// many of her and Jon's disagreements have centered on just this sort of thing - and she wants to get it right, even if she never seems quite capable of doing so.
    Maybe that she's trying, and staying aware of the issue, will be enough?
    Most of the things are still out, so she arranges them on the counter, one after another - in order from the start of the recipe. Flour, cream of tartar, baking soda, butter, sugar, vanilla, eggs, and cinnamon - all in a row. "I nuked it for too long, huh? Did that cause all of it?"
    Conspiculously, there's no teaspoon measure on the counter. Just a tablespoon, and a half tablespoon.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon hesitates for a moment, squeezing his eyes shut, leaning on the sink, heels of his hands pressed to the rim. "It's not... I know you're trying to help. You're jumping to a reasonable assumption. But I'm not... I know who I am. I'm not feeling..." He stares down at the right hand. The hand that should not be there. How can he explain? Does he /want/ to explain?

    He opens his eyes and stares down into the sink. "It feels just like--like when I was lying in a vacant lot, and those bullies were walking off, laughing about the 'lesson' they taught me. It feels like when Alya told me I shouldn't feel guilty, that I hadn't raped her, that Elias had assaulted us /both/. And then I told her all the things he'd done to me, and she held me and told me she'd make him pay, somehow." He swallows. "My /friend/ made me feel like--like this. Or maybe she didn't. Maybe--maybe she's /gone/. I don't know which is worse."

    He sniffles, and shakes his head. "And I just--I don't want to think about it. I don't want to talk about it. I want to just... make cookies and talk about whatever you're planning for the full moon and... and not... not this. Because if I think about this too hard I'm going to collapse."

    Deep breath in. Deep breath out. "So. So pull out a teaspoon, and we'll start measuring things. Okay?"

Cael Becker has posed:
    "Okay," Cael agrees. She hesitatesss a moment, then moves in behind him at the sink - gently resting one hand on his back before the leans in to wrap her arms around them, and rest her head against their back. What had Jon told her? She need to listen, and validae. Right? "Of course, love. We don't have to talk about anything unless you want to," she promises. "I just- of //course// you feel that way. And I'm here for you - so let's see how many more cookies I can manage to ruin in a single night, huh?" she offers, giving him a tighter squeeze.
    "Alright. So, ummm - how are we going to make butter 'light and fluffy?' You teach me that first, yeah? Then maybe we'll talk about... the full moon."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon tightens his grip on the edge of the sink, and Cael moving in closer lets her know that he's /shaking/. Trembling like a leaf, agitated and upset. He squeezes his eyes shut again, trying to pull himself together. Cookies. He knows how to make cookies. He can do this.

    Instead, suddenly, he crumples to the floor, probably taking Cael down with him. Drops to his knees in front of the sink, rests his forehead against the cupboard door there, arms still raised and hands gripping the edge of the sink. He sort of keens, half a wail and half a sob, and trembles all the harder.

    "Th-there were feathers... all over... the bottom... of the shower..." they manage, their voice shaking, breathing rapid. "I tried to--I thought about--a razor, or--or a knife. I could cut off the arm. Just--but you need a bonesaw for that. Hard to do at that angle." There's an almost hysterical edge there now. "I'd have to ask you to do it, and that's not--I mean, probably not safe near the full moon, yeah? You'll just be angry. And you should be. You should go rip her fucking heart out and /eat/ it. But it certainly doesn't leave much room for getting rid of the constant fucking reminder, now does it?"

Cael Becker has posed:
    "Oh, love... My love..." Cael drops to the floor with him - willingly, and without hesitation. She gather's Jon into her arms, her torso rocking back and forth, subtly and gently. "Losing it was a reminder of something awful. Now having it back is a reminder of something awful. Oh, Jon..." What do you even say. What can you do in the face of such pain?
    "You're mine," she says quietly but firmly. "And the most important thing for me, right now, is being here with you - and helping you to be okay. To get... okay again. But I- I don't think I could do that. Cut part of you off - even if it's not supposed to be there anymore. I'm sorry, I just- we're going to find a way." To get rid of it? To make this right again? To make Jon okay with it? She wasn't even sure. "We're going to find a way, but I can't do that... please."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "I know. That's why I didn't ask. Because you can't. Of course you can't. I don't /blame/ you for that." Jon laughs, a little shrilly. "That's why I punched the wall. So I wouldn't try to do it myself, and you wouldn't have to deal with the blood and the mess."

    He shakes, and then turns toward Cael, burying his face in her shoulder. "I feel safe with you. Have I said that? I feel safe. You won't let her hurt me. You won't--I should have just let you come with me. You would've protected me. That's part of--I was afraid of what I'd do if she went after you. What you'd do if she went after me. But I kind of like it? I like how angry you get on my behalf. It helps. I know I don't show it, I'm sorry, but it's just--it's weird, because you say 'mine' and it's the full moon and you could turn into a big ravening beastly thing and I'd just feel... safe."

    He's babbling. More than a little.

    "Don't let anything else hurt me? Please. I'm just--I'm so tired of hurting." He sniffles.

Cael Becker has posed:
    "I would have gone for her fucking throat," Cael confirms in a quiet voice. Despite keeping her voice low - there's a dangerous, angry edge to her words as she holds Jon close to her, letting them hide against her chest.
    "I will always try to protect you, just as you always try to protect me," she promises, still swaying slowly, and gently. "You're //mine,// but I'm yours. We protect each other. I feel safe with you, too, you know." She taes a deep breath in, and lets it out slowly before she adds, "You wanted me to sing, yeah?"
    With only that as a preamble, she begins to sing for Jon, still holding them on the kitchen floor - as if this was all perfectly normal.
    "No more talk of darkness, forget these wide eyed fears... I'm here. Nothing can harm you, my words will warm and calm you..."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon closes his eyes and lets Cael sing, sobbing quietly. He needed to cry, more than he had, clearly. He cries through the song, clinging to Cael, and when it's done he lifts his face to kiss her gently.

    "Thank you," he murmurs, sniffling. "M'sorry. I was trying to--" A sniffle. "I'm about half-mad, you know. Didn't want to show it. Martin gets--it upsets him, when I get like this. Rambling. Shaking. Unwell. He tries to help, but I think he thinks it's his fault. It's not, of course, but he thinks everything's his fault, so--"

    Stop. Breathe. Focus.

    "Full moon first. Tell me about that, and I'll calm down, and I can show you how to cream butter and sugar. Have to have steady hands for that."

Cael Becker has posed:
    While Cael was singing, Bear had moved into the kitchen - sitting on the floor beside Cael and Jon, and leaning in with his 100 pounds of weight so it presses into Jon's back. Every so often, the pup nuzzles at Jon, and gives them a lick from his wet, slopping tongue.
    "You've been through a lot in your life, Jon," Cael replies quietly. "If you need to scream, or cry, or just be held sometimes... It's okay. Sometimes I need that, too," she answers him. "I will always hold you, and sing for you, and keep you safe. //Always.// I promise you that." Her arms tighten around Jon, before she leans down to kiss Jon atop their head. Her fingers move into their hair, gently massaging.
    "So. I went to talk to Marc about the pack of werejackals. Where they are, what they might know about my condition, if they're still a danger to people. ...he says they've moved upstate, on the bank of the Hudson. They're recruiting to regrow their numbers, and we need to try to stop them before their numbers get bigger and more people get hurt. So.... We sorta have three options."
    She takes a deep breath, and lets it out slowly. "We could go in and try to kill them all. If we leave none of them standing, they can't spread - and no one else can get hurt." She keeps her tone carefully neutral, despite her own opinion of that plan. "Or we go in and deliver them an ultimatum. We'll be watching them. They straighten up, or we kill them all. Or..." Her arms tighten around Jon again. "...or we go in, and I- try to take over, and impose my will on the group. Become their leader, and ensure no one else gets hurt. Whoever it is leading them right now - I could probably take them in a fair fight."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    The dog is definitely helping; Jon relaxes by slow degrees, though he still shakes a little. "I'm always afraid the wrong person will see. That they'll lock me up somewhere. That--that maybe they'd be right to. Which is ridiculous, I am a functioning adult with an apartment and a job, but there it is."

    He listens to Cael lay out the options, then says, "You don't want to go for the first. I know you--and I agree with you. That should absolutely be the last resort. So... which of the latter two are you considering?"

Cael Becker has posed:
    "Just because you struggle, doesn't mean you need to be locked up, Mariposa," Cael answers him quietly. "Just- please don't hurt yourself? We'll figure all this out." She doesn't know what she would do if she went into the bathroom to find Jon hacking off their own arm, though...
    A faint smile crosses her lips as Jon immediately dismisses the first option. "Some of them could be innocent," she agrees. "I'm a cop, not a murderer." She takes a deep breath in, and lets it out slowly before she adds, "I'm honestly not sure. I wanted to get your thoughts. I- if I 'take over' the... pack, then- I give up on hoping for a cure. Marc thinks the only way out of this is the get Anubis to take back the 'gift' and- he already doesn't like me. I doubt he'd ever take it back. But- I mean, am I ready to just- //embrace// what I am now, like that? And- I mean, I'm so new to this. I barely know what I'm doing. What credibility to have trying to lead them? Even if I beat whoever's in charge - will they really listen to me, and respect me? I- it's a lot, you know? And I just- I don't know. I don't know what I want. I wanted this gone, but- last month wasn't that bad. If it's always like //that//..." Then when it really be awful?
    "...How is it really three months since all of this started, Jon?" she asks softly.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon swallows, hard, frowning. "I want you to keep it," he says. "I want you to keep it because--it makes me feel safe. Because I know, right now, if Lydia came looking for me to--I don't know why she would, but if she did? You wouldn't let her hurt me. Because you killed Jonah." He laughs, shakily. "It's not even because you're safer, now, not entirely, and it's not even just because you might live longer. It just... selfishly... you can protect me, now. But that feels selfish, to get used to, so I keep trying... not to ask. Not to let you."

    A sniffle. "B-but... let's be honest. Even if I'll regenerate almost anything--it still bloody /hurts/. It'd be /very/ nice to have someone else take the hits."

    They sigh. "That said... it's not my choice. It's /your/ choice. If you want to find a way to talk to Anubis and convince him to take back the power, help figuring out how to convince him? I'll do that, in a heartbeat. I'm sorry that I wasn't... more supportive. But that's why. Because--because I selfishly want you to keep it. Because I want you to want to be strong, and tough, and fast. And I'm sorry for that. That you've felt like this has to go on the back burner, when it's so important to you."

    He peers up at Cael. "But for what it's worth... I think you'd be a good leader. You have a good heart, and a good head on your shoulders. You can figure out the rest. I mean--look at me. I was a /recruit/ to SHIELD when I led the defense against the angels."

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael listens to Jon's words, feeling a quiet ache in her chest. Was //she// being selfish to be so afraid of this? To want this gone so badly? She rests her forehead against Jon's for a while, a few tears streaking quietly down her cheek, as Bear continues to sit near the pair, leaning in towards them with his silent, stalwart emotional support. He's a good dog.
    She finally pulls back enough to study Jon's face as she asks softly, "Do you really think I'm stronger this way? That it's a boon, and not- a liability? Do you think I'm foolish to be so afraid of this?" she asks in a quiet voice.
    With a wry smile she adds, "And don't hold back to spare my feelings."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon considers that for a long moment, peering at Cael, brow furrowed. Considering what she's saying--/really/ considering it. What does he really think of all of this, beyond his own desires?

    "I don't think you're foolish," he says finally. "I think--from what I know, this is meant to be a boon, yes. It's meant as power to serve Anubis, in some way or other. That doesn't seem to have come with strings tying you to him--but, then, you haven't had the guidance and help you would have had as a member of the priesthood. I think that it's entirely reasonable that you're afraid of power you didn't ask for, and didn't choose, that you lost control of the first time."

    He sighs. "I also think... that you're stronger than you think you are. That you /could/ choose to use this power for something good, use this pack for something good. I think it /fits/. When I remember Ma'at watching you kill Jonah--your aura looks the same way it did when I first said I loved you, when you were standing over me during that first battle with Michael. You are fire, in the /best/ sense. You take the power of the gods and you use it to help humanity. You burn away the old growth and make way for new things. You comfort, and protect. I think you are so much more than you think you are, with any kind of power or none at all."

    A long pause. Then, "But I also think that we both know the danger of thinking power alone is all one needs to attain your goals. You were right, you know, about the Watcher. I always had enough power to stop the Mother of Puppets, all on my own. Lydia had the power to face her fear, if only she could see that. If you're going to embrace this--do it because it feels right to /you/, not just because it helps me feel safe."

    He pulls away a little, sits up, smiles at Cael. "Think about what it felt like to be a wolf, I guess? Did that feel right? Good? Are you looking forward to it again? Or is it only terrifying?"

Cael Becker has posed:
    As Jon pulls away, Cael retains possession of their left hand, holding up against her chest with her own left hand as she watches Jon, studying their features, and considering their words. "It... it doesn't terrify me anymore, no," Cael admits. "Being with Mercy, out in nature - especially after I'd figured out how to turn into a true wolf? Oh, uh- apparently I'm a wolf, by the way. But- that was..." She lets out a sigh then admits, "It was fun. It was freeing. I'd been so scared of it, so afraid I wouldn't be able to control it, that I'd be a risk to others, a danger to the people I love..." Tears are streaking quietly down her cheeks as she talks. "I was so afraid, and it wasn't that."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon smiles brightly. "Like flying," he says. "It--it occurred to me, I could probably become a bird now. My body /is/ malleable. I could become a bird... maybe other things. A cat? A wolf? I'd read about the wolf thing, I meant to tell you. I mean... maybe I could join you, some time, hmm? As a bird, or even as a wolf."

    He leans in to kiss Cael, through the tears, lingering for a moment and wrapping his arms around her. And just kisses her for a moment, enjoying that, letting her know he loves her. When he finally pulls back, he says, "I love you. I trust you. Even--even when you first changed, I thought--if I could just get /through/ to you, I could stop you. I knew /you/ would never hurt me, not on purpose."

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael returnss the kiss - she needs it, that reassurance, and acceptance. She still don't quite understand how Jon and Agnes can both be so trusting of what she's become, after she tried to harm Agnes like that - but they both accepted it far more easily than she did herself.
    "Never," she whispers after Jon's words. "I would never hurt you, not consciously. Not by choice." She takes a deep breath in, letting it out slowly, her gaze going from Jon, then down to her own hand, as she considers everything they've said, and everything she's experienced over the last few months.
    "I can really do this?" For all the confidence she projects - in private, she often struggles with her doubts, and her fears. "It's- none of the changes have really been that bad. Not since-" ...Lydia and Jon gave her the tattoo.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon reaches down to thread his fingers through Cael's. "You might struggle again, sometimes. You might make mistakes. Whether or not you take on the pack, keeping an eye on them will be a responsibility. But I trust that you can do this, and fix any mistakes. I trust that you're strong enough to handle this."

    He reaches up to tuck a lock of blonde hair behind her ear, to run his hand along the undercut, smiling. "I wish you could see yourself the way I do. How strong you are, how brave. I mean--you've had all this going on, and you've been mostly dealing with it yourself, while I've been falling apart. Whenever I have trouble you just drop everything to help. You've gone through unimaginable pain and come out stronger. I /believe/ in you, love. I really do."

    A pause. Then, softly, "...Cael, when I say I feel safe with you--I haven't ever felt truly /safe/ since my mother died. For almost thirty years now. I trust you, and your strength of will, that much. Alright?"

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael leans her head towards the touch of Jon's fingers, a small smile on her lips, even while tears still streak slowly down her cheeks. "Safety's not a feeling I know very well, myself," she admits. Safety, and companionship, and love... "I feel safe with you, too. Safe, and loved, and... wanted. Needed. I didn't really understand how empty my life was before, until- I had something to compare it against."
    She leans in towards Jon, resting against //their// chest this time as she adds, "Thank you for believing in me."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon scoots around to let Cael rest against his chest, wrapping his arms around her and sighing. Reaching up to run his hand through her hair. "I always believe in you. And I'm here for you. And if I'm not--I will come back. Always. Okay?" He tries rubbing at her scalp the way she does with him, to see if that helps her, too.

    "Whatever you do, whatever you choose--you won't be alone, love. Not ever again." He closes his eyes. "You're safe. We're safe. We make each other safe."

    He shudders a little, then says softly, "...I want to hurt myself. I want the arm gone, and the feathers gone. I--I haven't wanted to self-harm in /years/, but--gods." He swallows. "Just... just fair warning. Okay? I'll work through it, I just... gods. It hurts."

Cael Becker has posed:
    From the sigh she gives as Jon's fingers go into her hair? Yes. It helps her. Whether it's her hair, or her back - Jon's touch soothes her in ways she never realized she'd needed, and for someone usually so adverse to touch, it's a small miracle.
    "We do," she agrees with Jon quietly. For all that shit they've been throught - here, together... they're safe.
    At the talk of self-harm, she tilts her head back to look up at Jon, concern evident on her features. "If it help - if it makes it a little easier - I'll be with you whenever you think of hurting yourself. If we're not together - you can teleport to meet me, or we can meet in the Velvet Room... But as long as I'm not in the middle of a mission, I'll drop everything to be with you and help keep you safe. Alright? I'm here for you, whenever you need."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon laughs softly. "Oh, my love." He keeps rubbing her scalp, smiling, even as she tilts her head back. "Why did I ever, ever doubt you'd be there if I needed you? Gods, I used to be such an insecure /ass/. I don't know how you put up with me." Of course, for her that was two weeks ago--or, well, longer, he'd been getting better of late, but still.

    "I'll call if I need you, okay? I just--I'm not okay. Not right now. I just need you to know that. But that doesn't mean your stuff needs to get put aside, okay? We can do both. We're superheroes, right?"

    He swallows. Then, softly, "Cael... Cael do you think... I'm not a bad friend, am I? Being angry? Not wanting to just... save her, no matter what? I know I should want to. I won't protest, if we can. But I just--I'm so bloody /furious/ right now."

Cael Becker has posed:
    "You don't have to be okay, Jon - you've been through- ...well. Hell," she remarks wryly. "But... can you believe we'll get to okay? Together?" she asks hopefully. "It'll just take us some time to find our way."
    She lets out a sigh and then offers quietly, "Love... you went there to help her. You went there out of concern, and love, and friendship, and she- violated you. Yes, it's okay that you're angry. It's- it's okay that I- forgot, for a little while, that she's my friend, too. That she helped me not that long ago. I- I don't know if I can forgive her, I'm furious myself. We're allowed to be angry."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "I keep trying to figure out--why. Why? Why was she so--she seemed so /jealous/ of me. Why did she do what she did? Why a harpy? Why... was that always somewhere in Lydia? Or is the Lydia we knew just--gone? Why was she so /bloody/ afraid, that she carved out her own heart to escape the idea that Raven might leave her?"

    Jon shakes his head, opening his eyes to stare up at the ceiling. "Why do so many of my friends not believe in their own power? Why do they let others take it away so easily?"

    He blinks, slowly, the words echoing something that, to him, happened long ago. "The Crawling Chaos--the thing behind the Fears--he's /afraid/ of us." A beat. "He's. Afraid. Of. /Us/. Of the Justice League Dark. That's why he has his servants messing with us, because he's afraid of what we can do to him." He closes his eyes, and laughs, and then leans down to kiss the top of Cael's head. "Which means we're going to beat him. We're going to beat him, and he's desperately writhing around trying to stop us, now, before we can." He grins, and then abruptly starts getting to his feet.

    "C'mon," he says. "Let's show you how to cream butter and sugar. The butter's probably plenty softened by now. You want it softened, not melted." His mood is suddenly much better--at least for the moment.

Cael Becker has posed:
    "Of course we're going to beat him," Cael agrees.
    But what if they need to be united for that? What if they //need// Lydia to succeed?
    Fuck. Why can't she just stay furious at her and fucking stake her through the heart? She grits her teeth - as part of her clings to that anger. It's familiar, and it's safe.
    "Alright," she agrees. "Show me how. Bear... You're a good boy, but out of the kitching. Git." She pats the pup, before nudging him out of the kitchen. Then she watches her hands once more and rejoins Jon. "Okay. We want it soft - then what?"