Phoenix gladly ate the delicacy offered to her, like a little baby opening its mouth for its mother. She closed her eyes, and slumped her shoulders down. "Oh, it's perfect!" she said.
She watched Eliza's back as she returned to the pasta pot, and said, before the ferret woman could turn around, "You know, learning to fight isn't that hard. And it does feel pretty good to squish a few Kraang."
She recalled rescuing the scientist from the building, with the dozens of bots coming at them. She didn't have her knife yet, it was that incident that caused her to make the decision on how to use one. The anger that she'd experienced as she hit alien after alien scared her if she thought about it too much, but then, so did her scars if she thought about them too much. Not knowing where something came from was more frightening than the knowing, she sometimes felt.
"I could teach you to throw," she said gently, "or to use the slingshot. That way you never have to come close to the person who may be trying to hurt you." Eliza turned and looked at her, and Phoenix could not immediately read the look on her face. "But you would be a formidable opponent in a hand to hand situation."
"Dinner's ready," Eliza told her with the same look on her face.
Phoenix nodded and stood up, turning toward the stairs. "DINNER"S READY!" she thundered, her voice echoing through the empty spaces of the warehouse. It was only a moment later before the clomping sounds of feet could be heard clambering up the stairs toward the top floor of the warehouse.
Eliza turned at the mention of being taught to fight. The idea was practical and had merit giving the circumstances, but there was a fear curled deep in her chest that made the prospect appalling to her. She remembered that first night of her mutation, so consumed by instinct, when she had attacked Raphael. She tried to justify herself , saying that she had been driven to it by her concern for Gwyn and in response to his assaults on her in the attempt to quell her rage.
Maybe those moments had their justification but she could not come to terms with what transpired in the face of Splinter. She had still been angry, trying to reach her daughter but in that instant when she lunged, there was more than motherly desire in her. She had gone for his throat, for a killing blow and a part of her was excited by it. Anticipating sinking her teeth into her prey and waiting as its' blood filled her mouth, clamping down till her kill's dying twitches faded to stillness. No, she could not fight with that haunting her, not in close quarters. It was Splinter's skill that stopped her that day and the thought of what she could have done was still with her.
Pulling herself back to the present she commented that the food was ready, looking for anything to pull her away from her morbid thoughts. Phoenix called down stairs and the sound of the others joining them was clear.
Happy to be released from Phoenix's focus the ferret placed the colander in the sink and grabbed a set of pot-holders and then drained the large pot of noodles. At home she would have combine the sauce and pasta but, since she was unsure of the tastes of her hosts, left it all separate and started to transfer the elements of the meal into serving bowls. She arrayed them on the counter, feeling the table would be too small once everyone was seated. She also added the leftover greens from lunch to the spread.
Looking to the stairway she saw the children entering and immediately questions and a fuss about the broken door being raised. She ducked her head guiltily and looked for something else to occupy herself. Apparently dinner would be delayed for a few moments. Making use of the extra time she set to cutting the bread and taking the steps to turn it into garlic bread. She took the tray over to the oven and popped it in to brown.
All the while cringing as the occasional raised voice echoed through the room.
Then she recognized her name being called and looked towards the sound, not having actually paid attention to what was being said.
"Yes!" Eliza said as an automatic response but then felt embarrassed at the silence that followed. "Sorry. What?" she amended with a nervous laugh.
"Woohoo!" Aries whooped as he, his brother, and sister emerged from the stairs. "It smells like spaghetti."
"It is spaghetti," his mother said, "made fresh."
"Fresh?" Arcos put his mouth in a pucker in a silent "Ooooooo"
"Why is the door on the floor?" Medusa asked.
"Hey!" Aries had stopped near the entrance to the floor, and looked at his mother accusingly. "You break the door?"
"I didn't break the door," the Phoenix said simply, setting the table for five.
"What's that, then?" the ram demanded, pointing to the door that now lay on the floor.
"I took the door off of the hinges," she said.
"What did you take the door off of the hinges for?" he sounded highly indignant.
Medusa and Arcos headed toward the table, the argument happening before them seeming of no consequence now that the cause of it was revealed.
"Because I needed to get in the bathroom, and the door was locked," Phoenix explained to her son.
"Why didn't you put it back up?" he asked, his brows drew together.
"Because I was being a good hostess to my guest," she seemed unperturbed by Aries' attitude.
"By taking the door off of the hinges so that no one can use the toilet?" he asked.
"Yes," she said in a voice that signaled the end of the discussion. "Our guest has made us dinner, and you are being rude by being arguing about nothing more than door that needs a few screws put in it."
The barb hit home, and the ram took a breath in, and looked away from his mother toward the bathroom door.
"Come and eat," Phoenix urged, the stern tone in her voice was now gone. "Eliza in an excellent cook."
He came forward, coming to the counter, and taking a plate. He smiled guiltily at Eliza when she looked up quickly, and loaded his plate with everything that available. Each of the others followed suit, coming to the table to sit down, save for Medusa, who did not use a chair, but coiled in on herself so she was right height at the table itself. None of them touched their food, but waited for Eliza, as if expecting her to do something.
When she didn't, Phoenix gently called her name. When the ferret woman did not answer, she called it again, a little louder, but with the same gentle tone.
"Yes?" she turned to them, her eyes wide in questioning.
None of them said anything, but looked at her as if the answer to the question should be obvious.
"Sorry," she said, embarrassment in her voice, "What?"
"Serve yourself some dinner, and come sit down," Medusa said, motioning with her skinny arm in a graceful motion, her voice a breathy imitation of her mother's. "There is a space for you," she patted the place setting next to her.
"Oh! ok. Just one minute." Eliza responded and took peek inside the oven, the bread had tanned with just slightest hint of char marring a few curled corners. Throwing the door wide she extracted the baking sheet and with deft fingers, used to working with hot items, flipped the warmed garlic toast into a serving basket. Setting aside the pan she turned the heat from 'broil' to '350°' before sliding her cobbler into place. She set the timer for 25 minutes and then went to the counter to fix herself a plate.
She took a generous helping of pasta and more sauce than was strictly necessary but ignored the greens, having already had her fill of them earlier in the day. With plate in one hand and basket in the other she came to the table. She bent low to deposit the bread in the center for all to reach, not realizing that her kitchen activities had caused the dip of her shirt to travel south, giving the boys a bit of a show with their dinner.
Unaware she set her plate down in the empty place setting and moved towards the seat that Medusa had indicated, trying in vain to avoid the girls' coils. The young woman was wound tightly in on herself, but there was a lot of her and not so little of Eliza either, so that the ferret ended up brushing against her. Both fur and scale twitched at the contact but when Eliza had settled and looked over with silent apology there was a twinkle in the snake-girl's eyes that reminded Eliza that Medusa was her mother's daughter. A smile and look of secret amusement passed between them.
Eliza extended the smile to the rest of the company before closing her eyes and bowing her head. She silently blessed the food and thanked the Lord for the companionship before verbalizing a soft 'Amen.' There was so much more that she had in her heart to talk to her Maker about that it was hard to keep the prayer simple. Yet she knew that this was not the place and she would prefer some privacy when she eventually knelt to seek for solace. Taking a soft breath she lifted her head and prepared herself to be in proper spirits for a pleasant meal. She smiled broadly at the tables occupants.
"Sorry for the wait," she said as she reached for the bread basket. "but I think you'll find it was worth it." Eliza dipped her garlic bread into the pile of sauce not yet blended into the noodles on her plate. She had the piece halfway to her mouth before noticing that some were looking at her and had not yet begun their meal.
"No need to be shy," she said playfully. "Like it or not I'm not making anything else so best tuck in while you can." She winked and crunched into her gravy soaked bread, savoring the taste with a loud and exaggerated "Mmmmmm."
While the Phoenix would not eat until everyone else had, being the 'matriarch' at the table, the children were not eating for an entirely different reason. Their curious looks at Eliza, while not at all malicious or disgusted, were unabashedly evident and not attempted to be hidden.
"Why did you wait to eat your food?" Medusa asked, reaching over to take a piece of bread, the cook having told her to do so.
"What was that you did?" Aries asked at the same time, spearing his salmon salad.
"It's called a grace, kids," Phoenix said, she felt the heat rising in her face and knew her cheeks must be turning an ugly shade of pink.
"What's a grace," Arcos asked, putting a huge forkful of salmon salad in his own mouth right after the question.
"It is a way that people thank…" she paused slightly, trying to think of a way to say the words. She has purposefully been vague in her children's spiritual upbringing. With her own being tugged in so many directions, and she still coming to her own conclusions after all, she felt that she would leave the way unhindered for their spiritual life. She had given them a general idea of what she thought, that there was an ephemeral Creator, that what they could see was not all that was. That was not difficult for the kids to understand from a young age, having to remain hidden themselves, and being created by brain-like aliens that never showed up anywhere else in the general consciousness around them. Their mother's uncanny knack to find mutants on the street lead credence to the belief. But, with a purposeful grace, such as Eliza had now exhibited twice, she felt she had to choose her words carefully. She chose to go with the most direct route. "…God," she said.
"Which god?" Medusa asked, looking from Eliza to her mother.
Phoenix knew her cheeks must now be downright mauve. By the Amen, she knew it was a Christian one, but which particular Christian one, she couldn't know. She never, in her wildest dreams, thought she would ever have to explain this to any of the kids. She had read many a religious text to them, they knew more about more holy books than most scholars, most likely. To them, they were stories, nothing more.
"You will have to ask Eliza that," Phoenix finally said, not knowing how to answer.
The woman listened to the exchange as she chewed on her mouthful of sauce and bread. She was not put-off by the questions because she could feel the genuineness with which they were asked. Phoenix had not said anything about her praying at lunch, and so had hoped that while it may not have been a practice in the home at least she wasn't asked to desist. She had not even imagined it was an issue of non-exposure.
She spared a glance over her friend and instantly her heart went out to her. The flush on her face showed that she was extremely uncomfortable, either with the topic itself or the questioning of the children. She swallowed her mouthful and turned so that she was addressing Medusa, for once not feeling any hesitation in the face of the snake mutant.
"I believe in God the Father, in His Son, Jesus Christ and in the Holy Spirit." She paraphrased the first tenant of her faith, instilled in her since she was a child and taught by her to many others over the years via either classroom or casual instruction. It was a topic she was extremely comfortable with when with like-minded individuals, yet still required a dollop of faith when in regular society. She was always reluctant to offend others. However she would not be closed-lipped when so forthrightly asked and Phoenix had given her permission to take up the topic, even seemed relieved that Eliza had taken the burden of explanation from her.
Gauging the faces of the children as they ate she could see that she would need to expound. "I was praying to the Father. It is something that I do on a daily basis and at most meals. I was thanking Him for the food and the company, both blessings that I believe He brought to me." She smiled, the surge of gratitude swelling in her chest and was hard pressed to keep her voice even as she continued her instruction. "Then I was asking Him to bless both in kind. The food that it might nourish the bodies of those who ate it and you, that He bring to you happiness and the things that you might need. Then I sealed my prayer in the name of the Son, for it is thru Him that I can reach the Father. The Holy Spirit is the conduit by which my soul may receive instruction from them in return."
Picking up her fork she played with her plate briefly before looking to Phoenix again. "I should have asked your permission. I'm just used to saying my own blessing at this point. Were I in my own home I would have said it out loud and asked others to join in should they feel so inclined." She blinked and ducked her head a bit. "If it makes you uncomfortable I will pray before I sit at the table. Yoshi is not Christian and out of respect, Gwyn and I pray together separately before we call the others to diner." She felt at peace with her explanation for the moment and so took the opportunity to procure a forkful of pasta. She chewed slowly and allowed her gaze to drift around the table, prepared for any clarification requested or to let the topic lay.