InsaneJournal

Tweak says, ""You have your mother's eyes.""

ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇss ᴏғ ᴘʀᴇsᴛɪᴅɪɢɪᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ (cigam) wrote in valarlogs,
@ 2016-10-11 11:48:00

Entry tags:

!complete, megara, zatanna zatara

Who: Zatanna & Megara
What: Life-affirming desserts, hard cider, and talks of the future after Meg briefly died
When: Night after that brush with the Grim Reaper
Where: Meg's loft apartment
Rating/Warnings: Nothing too awful!
Status: Complete

Tulumba it was again, soaked in homemade syrup and still warm from the oil it’d been fried in - seemed just the thing to make when her cousin paid a visit, wasn’t it? Her mother’s recipe again, because nothing was as comforting after literally dipping your very essence into the Well of Souls than something familiar. Something from home, something from a past that felt so much more simple than what life had become lately. There wasn’t a manual on how to really handle things once you came back to the living; it wasn’t like she’d been dead long enough to really experience something like an afterlife so what the hell does a person even do?

Something mindless, Megara guessed. Being lost in thought in her kitchen seemed like her thing to do - she’d sent Hades home to check in on his offspring and, still lingering in the air, was the scent of smoke from his method of transport. No new events were dreamt yet, but she assumed there was a happy ending in the horizon for the guilt-filled Nutmeg in Greece, head-over-heels with a man that was all muscle and heart and only a little bit of actual brain, but she could admit that was part of the Hercules charm.

Though what had her charmed here was the smart, obnoxious mouth of a man who was afraid to embrace his immortality, and her lack of that gave her a deeper understanding as to why. And a thought as to what it could mean for them.

Zatanna was meant to come by with some kind of pumpkin offering, and she thought the hard cider in her fridge would pair well with the carbs they were to consume - she’d burn it all off later with some intensive hoop-workout, the contraption dangling from a sturdy beam in her living room (right in front of the television for guilty pleasures of celebrity Netflix documentaries). That wasn’t so high off the ground that she’d be sent into an episode of hyperventilation and panic, but there was something meditative hanging from it by legs alone.

If her dearest witchy cousin appeared into her home via teleportation means, that was fine - she was used to it with Hades dropping in and out, and she had the plate of Turkish delights on the coffee table.

Comfort food seemed to be the theme of the evening, and Zatanna had to admit that there really was something that soothed when it came to the blessed autumnal pumpkin. Not so much the spice part, the nonsense put into everything from coffee to car air freshener, some kind of chemical concoction to actually mask the taste and smell of that gourd - but real luscious, naturally sweet pumpkin. It was why she’d whipped up a batch of kabak tatlisi, another Turkish dessert that was indeed candied pumpkin, baked in its own juices and sugar, topped with walnuts, and served with clotted cream. Both she and Meg could use a few decadent treats tonight.

Rather than teleport in, she drove like a normal person and brought the aluminum foil-covered plate to the door. Which she knocked on, gently, not simply wanting to burst in or even walk in on anything inappropriate. Meg was expecting her, but still. You never knew.

“It’s just me,” she sang from outside. “I told you I wasn’t going to make you fat before, but I probably am now.”

There was a voice that as music to her ears. Meg had to chuckle as she opened the door, looking very much alive - no pasty-white skin, just that natural honey-beige. Breathing with a pulsing heart and hazel eyes blinking, amused. “Hard to believe I forgot that request,” she said as an initial greet, before placing a kiss on Zatanna’s cheek and wrapping her arms around her tight. Even if her relative’s arms were full and couldn’t return the favor; the news of what happened had been relayed over a fucking text and the more she thought about it, the more of a cunt it made her feel.

Then she gestured her to come inside, an eager welcome. “Come in, come in. Hades left a little while ago for fatherly duties.” He’d been in bed with her for awhile, where they sometimes would just lay there doing absolutely nothing and then other times she’d mount him like a stallion and ride him until his eyebrows went in flames. No other way to feel quite alive than those carnal activities.

Another way to burn all those carbs she was about to put in her mouth.

“Oof, it smells so good in here,” and Zee was a little breathless from the intensity of that hug - but she returned it, of course, even one-armed. And probably felt extra snuggly thanks to the soft red sweater she was wearing, thrown on over a pair of faux-leather pants. It wasn’t exactly autumn, but with pumpkins and cardigans maybe you could pretend it felt like that even for just a moment.

And truly, she wasn’t upset about Meg using texts as a venue to tell her cousin about expiring for those brief moments - the point was, everyone was alive and well as they should be. Besides, Meg was probably still processing all that had happened.

She set the plate down on the coffee table, next to the tulumba. “And you?” A brow was raised pointedly. “You are...something? Not fine, I’m assuming.”

Megara herself was dressed comfortably, with soft stretchy pants meant for flexibility and a loose tank top with a bit of bra showing on the sides, but nothing scandalous. Once they were in the living room she practically had thrown herself into the couch, sinking into the back cushions like they were one. “I’m not traumatized,” she said. In truth, she really wasn’t. Maybe a bit jumbled on the inside - still processing the events that happened in both lives - but she wasn’t rocking in a corner sobbing her eyes out.

How to really explain, though? There was hard cider that needed to be poured. That would help, and the drink was festive for the ‘season’ (as if California had actual seasons) so she pulled herself up a bit with a groan to serve them. “I don’t know what the proper etiquette is on how to deal with life after a resurrection, so I’m in mortal limbo at the moment.”

Hell, she wasn’t sure if she was even gone enough for brain damage, in theory - like when the body is deprived for oxygen and there’s only a certain window to get the insides back at it with their regular functions again? Something like that. Hades worked quick, thankfully.

“Go sit. Get a head start on dessert,” Zee chastised her cousin, stepping in front of her to nudge Meg back to the sofa. Handling the hard cider was perfectly within the expertise of the Mistress of Magic - and she wasn’t the one who had died recently. “And I don’t think there’s proper etiquette at all - you just feel what you feel, and it’s not wrong in any way.”

Glasses were fetched from the cupboard and she poured them each a generous measure of the crisp beverage; some tasted like apple cider vinegar, some even like cigar smoke, but she trusted her kinfolk to get the good stuff. “Though I imagine an experience like that does make one feel very...human, very fragile,” she mused, as she returned to the living room with the libations in hand.

Aw, how sweet. Meg didn’t put up a fuss about the demand - she gratefully dug into the plate of delicacies before her, unafraid of getting her fingers outright sticky. Her version of a ‘sweatpants with wine and ice cream’ night, where she’d probably present herself in an oh-so unattractive way but who else could she do this in front of if it wasn’t family? The same people you sought advice about during those awkward teenage years of deciding between tampons and pads during the blood flows, that sort of thing.

“I guess that’s it,” she mumbled around a piece of sweet pumpkin, then washing it down with the cinnamon cider once she’d gotten hers from Zatanna. “It’s not that I’ve never had the disillusion of living forever - and it’s not that this has given me an epiphany of ‘living life to the fullest.’” Well, she certainly wouldn’t take it for granted but that wasn’t the issue at hand. “It’s more of...what’s mortality even mean when you’re boinking someone who’s immortal?”

Everyone had different things dawn on them when they tangoed the fine line of life and death; some made a bucket list, some went vegan, some contemplated on how to live a mortal life if their heart was so entangled with someone who had the lifespan of eternity.

Death would come for her again, someday.

Boinking was certainly an interesting turn of phrase, but yes, that was indeed a point to ponder. Zatanna had faced a similar problem brought to her by Magnus regarding he and his fiance - she was unaware if anything had been done, or if they’d even talked about it, but she promised to be there to help however she could.

Settling on the couch, Zee balanced a napkin with both candied pumpkin and tulumba on it, debating where to dig in first. Sticky fingers were also the least of her concerns, and she swallowed a mouthful of cider - ooh, tingly. “It’s something to discuss,” she noted. “With him. Depending on how far you see this relationship going - but the solution might require one hell of a compromise. I presume you have no interest in gaining immortality?”

There were ways to go about doing that. Zatanna had studied them - the ancient Egyptians, they had their rituals and spells; it’d be a matter of getting her hands on one of those old books, researching more, and seeing if the practice was really just fiction or some semblance of fact if executed by one who had magic flowing through her veins. But again, compromise - deciding to be immortal was no simple thing, and deciding to take it away? Also complex.

Thin, mahogany eyebrows rose a bit at that question. Gaining immortality hadn’t been complicated, mostly because she didn’t see if there was an option - Hercules had the blood of the gods coursing through him, and while Hades had managed to remove almost all of it during his infant years, he still had the chance to regain that godly status. Power, immortality, the whole deity package. Meg was born mortal, and unless there was a surprise around the corner, she’d stay mortal.

Maybe?

“I haven’t thought about immortality as a viable option,” she confessed, a slow chew of food as she contemplated. “He’s got this potion of sorts, you know, that’ll remove a god’s immortality - he had his idiot demon minions give it to Hercules. It appeared from the dreams. I don’t doubt he’s thought about it, but the God of Death is part of who he is. I can’t ask him to gulp it down or expect him to because him and I are metaphorically frolicking in a field of daisies.”

It probably was too soon to seriously discuss that particular bump in the road. But it was coming, one way or another. Megara exhaled a sigh from her nose. “On the other hand, I can’t really say how I’d feel about living forever if I had the chance. If I don’t die, then everyone around me will.”

If she did, then Hades would have to watch her die a second time - and that one, she imagined, would be permanent.

“Living forever is - “ Zee paused, just trying to contemplate it. She sipped her cider, brow crinkling in thought. “It’s a curse unto its own.” Magnus didn’t seem willing to give up his immortality when she spoke with him - but convincing his fiance to take that on was the difficult part. “A burden. The positive being, you’d have each other - as companions, forever. But the drawbacks? I’m sure we all know what they are.”

The natural lifespan of those around you, watching friends and family wither and perish. Maybe over time you sort of became immune to it, accustomed even, however Zatanna couldn’t really imagine ever becoming that way.

But the news of Hades having a potion as a dream gift was interesting - it was one form of a solution, at least. “He might choose to give it up on his own - unfortunately, once you go through with it either way there’s no taking it back. I will turn the cards,” she hummed, reaching for another candied pumpkin piece. “Perhaps the end result is closer than we think.”

At some point Megara thought she’d have to dick around on her laptop and come up with a mock excel spreadsheet - both options had their pros and cons, and whatever decision was made in the future would weigh on them heavily, regardless. Best to take it all one step at a time, she guessed. Clarity had the chance of coming when she wasn’t overthinking it to the brink of death.

“Please, feel free,” she drawled, enthusiasm lacking, but Zatanna surely knew by now that was just her way of sounding on a regular basis. Somewhat dead inside and only two sincere facial expression - resting bitchface and mildly smug. “Don’t tell me if I actually do become fat, but I don’t know if I can handle another surprise. I don’t know if he can, either. He’s the one that’s handled the brunt of the changes.”

From living a human life with very human family complications to becoming a god with very godlike family complications, stuck with the shit end of the stick in the arrangement of domains - Zeus cozy in the clouds, Poseidon swimming with dolphins, but Hades was with the shadows and death and misery. Almost like he was being punished for just existing.

Naturally, Zee was one to appreciate Megara’s rather dry humor - she was one of a kind, her cousin, and Zatanna loved her as she was. It had been a depressing day when Meg left the circus family - but all baby birds must move on sometime. Even if it had been on the back of a motorcycle with the idiot boyfriend who turned out to be a dud.

“I doubt you ever become fat,” she chuckled wryly. But here they were, eating sweets and drinking caloric booze - eh, they’d work it off. Nothing wrong with a little ‘stuffing the face’ in a comforting sort of way. “Hopefully the surprises are far along down the road too - however, we both know that there are no guarantees. When one chooses to live here.”

Something could happen. And that something? Almost always did.

Aw, the sweetest thing ever to be said from her dearest cousin - Meg went on to pat her own belly, which was getting full from gorging herself because Zatanna’s offerings were drastically diminished, mmkay.

“Well, question,” she began, reversing the tables a bit to get some kind of outsider insight on the situation. Mostly to see what someone else would do, and why. It was one way that’d help her make heads or trails of the entire situation and at least nudge her into the right direction, for whenever it was brought up between her and the deathly god. “What would you do? Say if you and John crossed the line into more serious territory and he got himself an immortal lifeline.” Hypothetically speaking, of course - the man made pacts with demons so who knows that the consequences of all that could bring. “Would you be up for the eternity thing?”

Almost sounded like the whole marriage package, didn’t it, although she didn’t know if the ‘death due us part’ applied too much. Zatanna had made a point before; a positive was the fact that it wasn’t meant to be a completely lonely journey.

That was a good question. Zatanna didn’t respond blithely, or quickly - she actually took the time to think about it, biting off more sugar sweets as she did. Chewing helped her focus on these types of life-altering questions. “If we’re talking about John specifically on a day when I don’t want to punch him in the testicular region,” she smirked. “But alright, what would I do...”

Immortality was a daunting concept - knowing that the path of you never ended. In theory, anyway. There were ways to cheat most everything in life, and in death too. No doubt even a god could find a way to cease to exist, if he truly wanted to.

“If it were me who was immortal, I would drink the potion,” she said. “A lasting partnership is meant to be equal, and love is meant to be unselfish. Besides, a life without him would in theory not even be much of one at all anyway. But if I were you, the mortal - “ Also a difficult idea to imagine, a difficult pair of shoes to try to walk in. “I would be up for it. But I know what he’d say - he wouldn’t want me to. I assume Hades wouldn’t wish that for you either.”

Meg tilted her head at the words, and gave a small nod - mostly, it was just her processing the answers, letting each side of the coin sink into her tired brain cells. Zee’s words came with an objective wisdom, and she laid out the possible terms as well as she laid out her cards for fortune. “I think wanting to punch these two in the testicular region is our infinite curse,” she mused, a corner of her mouth arching upward. A lifetime was intimidating enough, but the concept of forever - in a non-Twilight way, ugh - was immeasurable.

Another sigh, and she let the couch absorb her more as she let her head fall onto her cousin’s shoulder. “I never thought I’d see some times where circus life was actually a lot more simpler than all this,” she said, motioning her hands as a way of emphasizing what the fuck their lives were. “We went from my parents showing us all the types of sexual positions in what they’d call ‘art form’ to discussion of immortality. Now we know what it feels like if we’d done DMT or LSD for the rest of our lives.”

No need for hallucinogens here, ever. Though she guessed that’s why the blanket announcement of ‘drugs in the water’ when something freaky showed was often used as an excuse.

It was sweet, Meg getting all cuddly. These moments were as rare as blue diamonds, so Zatanna would treasure them. She put her arm around her darling cousin, giving her a squeeze before switching to the ever-soothing task of playing with the girl’s hair. Raven never let her do this - physical touching tended to get her to seize up, though sometimes she was fine with hugs - and it was comforting for both the giver and the receiver.

Nimbly, her fingers braided a bit of those silky dark brown tresses. “Your parents must miss you?” she mused, since speaking of them and all. “I know we just saw the whole crew for my birthday, but perhaps something for Thanksgiving - and I, personally, miss the acrobatics that were so casual.”

Much like how Meg would hang from her knees on her hoop, her parents were similar - like monkey, really. So easily draping limbs over places to stretch and hang from, while carrying on a conversation. And honestly, what better people to learn flexibility tips from?

Meg wasn’t the most sociable person, and she scarcely put herself out there to make long-lasting friendships; she’d always been a little too guarded, a little too jaded, but the friends and bits of family that were near and dear, she clutched onto tightly. Zatanna was no exception, though instead of cousins sometimes she felt like there was more of a sisterhood - not that she knew much of what that was like, but she imagined this would be it.

Her suggestion caused a flare in her eyebrows, and those eyes lifted to glance at her through the soothing strokes of hair. “Thanksgiving,” she dryly repeated. It wasn’t an awful idea, and she’d probably see if Hades was interested in participating (he would, just to meet the ‘rents formally and to find an opportunity to get on her nerves). “It’ll be the definition of a flexible shitshow but, eh, why not. I’ll just have to make sure I’m constantly in the process of drinking - it’s the only way I’ll be able to blackout any potential embarrassment.”

“I think it is a parents duty to be embarrassing on Thanksgiving, but luckily alcohol will numb the pain,” Zatanna teased as she continued her diligent work. From discussions of mortality to hair braiding, but it was also affirmation that both were still breathing - as comforting as monkeys picking lice from each other and such. “I would also like to see them again. We don’t even need traditional Thanksgiving foods - “

Because blah, turkey? Or even worse, for vegetarians like Zee, tofurkey? She’d just as well break tradition and have a meatless lasagna or something. And pie, many different types of pie. “But just something nice. I’ll even see if I can wrangle the scouser.” It was a ways off, granted, though planning was always fun. “I suppose we must first tackle Halloween, however.”

Oh, and in the OC, what an interesting treat it always was.

“If you need help wrangling him, or pulling him by the ear...” Meg trailed off, because even though she hadn’t met John he seemed to fit the ‘stubborn as a mule’ saying, and she’d be that extra lean muscle to support her hoodoo-casting relative. But it seemed like a nice thing to look forward to, regardless - hopefully by then things would settle down, and there’d be a nice routine of quasi-normalcy to fall back to. “We’ll arrange something, then. Take the reigns of this family get-together and hope the men in our lives still want to bang us after the exposure to circus folk.”

And, skillfully, like a monkey, she was able to finagle the tiny Apple TV remote from the strength of her toes on the coffee table (it wasn’t like she was sticking her feet into the dessert, geez), and brought it over to activate the flat screen. Until then? They could lounge around, maybe watch a scandalous documentary on Netflix about that Amanda Knox oddball and her possible drug-frenzied murder. Normalcy for at least tonight.