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Who: Sonya Blade (gentle nudge Cassie Cage) and you
Where: Kitchen carriage, garden, training gym
When: Grasshopper days 25-30
What: Her daughter's birthday/ dealing with insomnia/ PT
Warnings: mentions of character death and ptsd

Kitchen Carriage:
The name of the months in this place made no sense; fiddlesticks..Grasshopper. Of course, Sonya knew not all worlds kept the same record of time as Earthrealm, but being stuck on a train like this, it wasn't like she had anything as a reference. All she had to go by was the month of when she arrived in this place.

That was why she was in kitchen carriage, keeping an eye on the oven timer, while mixing a batch of cream cheese icing. Cassie's birthday was July 30th, and while she knew she might be off by a week or so, there was almost-no..she couldn't call it an obligation. Baking was a skill she kept hidden from most, but if she was ever lucky enough to spend a birthday with her, she would bake Cass a birthday cake. Of course, it wasn't exactly like it would've been if they were home; a deep tray instead of a cake pan, and lacking any food coloring, she couldn't make the red velvet cake that was her favorite.

The icing was cooling in the walk-in, while she kept an eye on the timer. Still sore from therapy and being on her feet, she was forced to wait it out in her wheelchair, going through a book on piano instructions.

Garden (timed for late at night):

Thirty years in the military, five of those spent in actual warfare, Sonya was well acquainted with nightmares and insomnia, even without the counselor's diagnosis. Some nights were better than others of course; some she was blessedly too tired to dream, while other nights, sleep either wouldn't come, or it would, and the nightmares so vivid. She told everyone she kept a cot in her office because it was easier than driving home, but it wasn't entirely a lie either. She had no such luxury in this place.

Not for the first time since arriving here, she woke up gasping from a nightmare, only just managing to not scream outloud. The dream sent her back to Quan Chi's fortress, back to seeing Johnny choking on his own blood, Jax who wasn't Jax..and she being unable to fight back.

Fifteen minutes later would find her in the rock garden carriage, a blanket thrown over her bedclothes because she was too out of her head to change into something else. She couldn't even bother using her wheelchair, the steady ache in her legs almost welcomed compared to what was going on in her head.

Inwardly, Sonya hoped the ruckus didn't wake anyone up, but given her luck, it was unlikely.

Training gym;

Slowly, she was getting on her feet. While her shoulders and ribs had recovered enough for her to do basic upper body exercises, her lower body was still in recovery; just walking on her own was training enough.

She needed to do more though. At her age, she didn't rebound as fast as she would've liked, but that was no excuse for her to be lazy about things either. Whatever knots, aches, or stiffness that came with combat and age would only get worse if she allowed herself to settle-and no one, least of all herself, could afford to settle.

Admittedly, for the present moment, she was taking it easy-for her anyway. She'd gotten into yoga when she was pregnant with Cassie, and though it was by no means a habit anymore, the stretching and muscle coordination was just the warm-up she needed.

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It's debatable whether this counts as good timing or bad, but Cassie had been asking around about the whereabouts of her mother. Eventually, she'd been redirected here, to the kitchen carriage. If she'd hoped to surprise her with the cake...well, she still is, but she won't be surprising her with the finished product.

"Baking, huh?" Cassie says. "It smells good."

To look at the expression on her mother's face when she saw Cassie enter-it was likely a bad time.

Though, in all fairness, it wasn't like she could bare anyone from the kitchen, and given the way days were noted here, for all Sonya knew, she'd already celebrated. She also wasn't entirely trying to make it a surprise cake either, however much she would've liked to claim it.

"Thanks..." She sighed. "It's actually for you. If we were back home, we'd be celebrating your birthday-or near enough to it."

Cassie tries to figure the alternate-realm math in her head before swiftly given up.

"Might as well celebrate sometime," Cassie says.

A warm smile crosses her face.

"I always liked it when you had time to bake. I always liked the cake, but...I liked it more that you were there to make it."

Because it meant she was home to celebrate her birthday. Cassie didn't need to say it outloud, and Sonya appreciated the fact, but they were both aware of it.

Well, she was here now. So..dates aside, they might as well celebrate. "Don't let anyone on base know, but..I actually do enjoy baking."

It just happened to be another hobby she was never allowed to indulge in; there was the fact that being on Base meant not having easy access to the kitchen, but also the reality that SF fitness standards didn't allow that much room for such indulgence.

"Five minutes left on the timer, then it still has to cool off." So she just needed to wait for a half hour.

"Oooh, almost done," Cassie says. "I like it when it's still hot and gooey."

"So it won't be so long a wait then," She set the book on the counter top; a look at the cover showed it to be on music theory. "It's not red velvet since we don't have red food coloring, but it's cake and you can rest assured it won't be burned or dry."

Mostly thanks to the timer and having done this before. That there wasn't anything for a distraction also helped. "Was able to make a batch of cream cheese icing though."

So, nearly her favorite.

"Hey, that's two out of three," Cassie says. "Not bad by train standards."

"I found a few actual cake pans," She wasn't sure why, but that made her especially happy. "No candles, but..all things considered it's just as well."

Would they use twenty-three or twenty-five; in truth it hardly mattered, cake was cake after all.

"Your father might consider it sacrilege." Then again, he would've moved mountains to make something of a party in this place. However much he'd mellowed since the wars, when it came to Cassie, it was like he was a young man all over again.

Though, that did bring something up. "See if you can find anything like ice cream in the deep-freeze."

Cassie smiles and salutes. "Yes, ma'am."

She has much the same thought about the candles anyway. She heads off to look through the freezer for anything that looks frozen and sweet.

She comes back with...well, it's a carton of something. There are letters in an indiscernible script written on the top.

"I'm not sure if this is ice cream or not, but...well, only one way to find out."

While she went about that, Sonya grabbed some oven mitts to take the pans from the oven. The process was slower and not as smooth as she'd like, her legs smarting from every sudden moment (she was determined to move as much as she could without the damned chair), and she was counting the days when she didn't have to wake up with stiffness.

The skewer came out clean when she tested the cake, and she was working on taking it out of the pan when Cassie returned.

She studied the container; it did look like ice cream, but for all she new it could just be something that looked like it.

"So long as there's no 'double dipping'..." She looked around a moment to ensure they were presently alone. "I don't see anything wrong with testing it first."

Not something she would usually suggest, but she hadn't gone through the effort of making a cake from scratch only to have some wasted because it turned out to be frozen lard instead of actual ice cream.

Cassie nods. "Only one way to find out, I suppose."

She takes the scoop she'd carried with her (the fact that the train seems to have a scoop designed for this is a good sign, she thinks) and digs in, leaving it on a small dish. It's now clear that there's some sort of purple marbled stripe inside of it that looks fruity.

She glances at Sonya for a moment before grabbing a spoon and taking a tentative bite.

"Not sure what kind of fruit flavor this is, but it seems good."

"Close enough." She'd been to enough countries and realms to not question the sort of food provided; if it tasted good and didn't kill or cause food poisoning, she wasn't going to question what the exact food was.

Carefully, she set both cakes down onto a cooling rack. Cassie might's preferred them as gooey, but if she were to try and ice them now, it would all just drip off and leave it all a complete mess.

"Suppose that's one good thing about your father not being here, I would've had to resort to violence to keep him from sneaking a piece or two before it was ready."

Not for the first time he's tried to pull such a stunt. Once and awhile, Sonya just bothered with decorating over the full project and it always felt like she was defending a fort rather than with pastry.

Cassie chuckles. "I remember when you damn near chopped his hand off. What was I, seven?"

She has more restraint than her father does, but that doesn't stop her from hovering around them a little.

Cassie might've remembered, but..and perhaps it said something about just how insufferable her father could still be, but it took Sonya a moment to recall that exact time. When she did, she was torn between laughing and sighing.

"I do now. Around Thanksgiving on Briggs farm, but your father deserved it. Vera and her sister had been working in the kitchen for hours by the time we got there, and he couldn't wait another hour or two before dinner was ready."

Unfortunately for him, Sonya was also in the kitchen to lend a hand and like hell would she let him get away with it. "He should be grateful it was me and not your great-uncle, he would've actually stabbed him through the hand."

Though, she doubted the other two would've even brandished a knife-maybe just struck him in the head or something.

"He should be grateful he hasn't been stabbed a thousand times over," Cassie says. "He's lucky he's endearing as often as he is annoying."

"It's part of his charm." She just managed not to say through gritted teeth. "That same tongue's gotten him out of trouble as much as it's nearly gotten him stabbed or dismembered."

And not just from his enemies, either.

She took a bread knife and started slicing the top half of one of the cakes.

Cassie watches her expression with an amused smile.

"You're not pretending that cake is Dad, are you?"

"No, this work's too delicate for that mental image." She smirked, setting the the cake scraps aside. "Here, knock yourself out."

Her birthday, things like nutrition guidelines didn't count.

She started spreading icing on the cake she just scalped. "We did eventually work things out..." She paused, recalling that there was a two year difference between them. "He..I gave permission for him to attend some therapy meetings with me."

Cassie grabs a pinch of cakescrap.

"I kinda figured you might," she says, still smiling.

She pops some cake into her mouth and chews for a while. Her expression grows a little more serious and thoughtful as she considers the situation.

"I know there was always...more going on there, than just how you feel about him. I guess you've had a couple more years to work that out."

Sometimes, you just want to cook for yourself. Or see what there is to cook for yourself, ...and maybe someone else, but that'd all depend on what there was left and what wasn't in both the kitchen and the stocks. It's the reason Tidus enters into the kitchen at that time, noticing the woman already there in her wheelchair by the timer, a book in hand.

"Hey," he gives in a friendly greeting, a little on automatic before he can think that maybe he shouldn't disturb her. But he doubts it's that big of a deal either, making his way over to the fridge. Spotting the mess of baking on his way, and a thought coming to mind.

"Hey," She responded out of habit, only looking up in acknowledgment after a moment when she realized someone was with her. "I'll clean up the mess in a bit, don't worry about it."

She wasn't sloppy by nature, not with her military background. However, she wasn't fully done with baking, so some of her supplies was still out on the counter.

"Actually," he starts, turning back from the fridge door, "you mind leaving it to me? Kitchen cleaning's Purple's chores. I've got a bet going with a guy who can get the most points."

Yeah, it's a little weird asking to clean after someone's baking, maybe, and he adds with a small laugh, "This is gotta count too, right? I don't actually know if we get points for it, but well, I'm gonna see soon enough."

"How about we meet halfway and I supervise." She understood now about teams being assigned to chores, but it wasn't in her to just let others clean up her mess. Atleast, not such a small one like this.

"What's the deal with the points system anyway?" It sounded military, but points were often something to avoid, not earn. "Are they a sort of currency or if we earn enough does that allow for certain privileges?"

"Sure," he agrees to her conditions, not really minding, though there is a surprised note to it. But also, hey, why should he care? He doesn't give it much thought anyway with her next question.

"No privileges--I haven't really heard anyone getting the train to do anything, but yeah, a currency. You seen the small rooms at the ends of the train cars, near the toilets? Those have shop terminals in 'em. You can buy things already on the train, or ask for stuff from...well, your own world, I think? I got a blanket for a friend and a trunk of heals," he explains.

She knew of them of course, but the means of currency until now unknown. Even if she knew how to acquire them, all she could afford currently was something from the snack cart, and she wasn't about to waste points for something that trivial. Not even for her daughter's birthday.

This had more meaning to it anyway.

She checked the timer and wheeled herself to get the ovenmitts, before opening to check if the cakes were done or not. "What's your name anyway.." She checked him again. "You're the same team as my daughter."

Not a question, by now she recognized the train-issued clothing and what the colors meant.

Daughter. It makes him stare at the woman for a second, the blond hair--though, that isn't really what clues him in. How many people had family onboard? It was more likely they left behind family, but there was someone he knew who had someone, someone who'd dodged death being here.

"Are you Cassie's mom?" But with that, he gestures to himself and answers, "I'm Tidus. I've been around here for two months."

"I also answer to Sonya Blade." She just managed not to roll her eyes. For all she knew, Cassie hadn't told the young man her name, just how they were related.

She pulled the cake from the oven, testing to see if it was done; it was. "I think you might've arrived on the same train as Cassie."

Two months sounded like the same amount of time as her own.

There's a sheepish pull on his face at the name, like he said something wrong; not knowing if he did.

"Uh, yeah, maybe. I think so. I met her after my second mission. Haven't really worked with her yet. But she told me about being a soldier, and her dad--your husband? About him being a movie star!"

Really though, what he remembers most is...

"It sounded like your family's got an exciting life."

He moves away from the fridge, to the side to put down his drink. Looking over to where the dumb waiter is for a second, and the mess that'll need to be moved over upstairs to be washed.

Sonya worked on getting the cakes on a rack to cool off. Part of her wondered just how old the young man was, given his disposition; the rest could understand why he and Cassie hit off as they seem to have had.

"That's something of an understatement." Even if the military wasn't as action packed as her teen-age self was lead to believe, if it wasn't preparing for an OP, it was dealing with other senior officers (Domestic and International). Frankly, OPs and raids were easier.

That was to say nothing of Johnny's connections and past as a hollywood action story.

"Do yourself a favor," She carefully moved to where she'd put the icing. "If Johnny does show up, don't mention the hollywood career, you'll never get him to shut up."

Not that Johnny was ever one to be silent for long; the only time she ever got him to shut up was when she told him she was pregnant.

"Noted," he says with a scoff in it; and with her occupied by the cake, he picks up the bowls an other bits that aren't being used, gathering and saying as he does, "I'll put these to go up to the sinks," to get them out of the way than just standing and thinking about it. A slip of batter catches on his thumb, and he rubs it onto the side of the bowl before turning back around.

"But I know Cassie's been talking about watching his films sometime. I wouldn't mind hearing the commentary track." Which sounds like it'd be a riot with the guy, and you wouldn't be able to remember most of the film for it. "That for a special occasion, by the way? Or just a side hobby?"

He cocks his head to her cooling sponge, the icing prepared. Tidus wouldn't have imagined Cassie's mom as a baker, but hey, what did he know? Everyone needs hobbies--especially when they're stuck on a train.

"Cassie's birthday," She lets him take the dishes. "Give or take a week." Close enough as she figured.

She pulled out a bread knife to slice the top part of one of the cakes. "Oh, she'll give a commentary alright. His movies are of cult status and it has nothing to with oscar bait."

Cassie was one of the few who could give such details and not face Johnny's temper.

"You want some of these scraps?"

"Cassie's birthday?" He repeats, and that gets him to pause between grabbing the mixer bowl with some spoons in it. "Oh, that's fine-- but it's Cassie's birthday soon?"

He's near about to start walking, but he's thinking, and looks back over to Sonya.

"There anything you think she'd like? Something off the train?"

He knows she'd like some better organisation on the train, but well, he wasn't the guy for that.

"Thereabouts," For all she knew, they were a week late. That wasn't entirely the point though, so long as they were celebrating, that was all that mattered. "Might be a few days off, but we're celebrating now."

She looked up from her work. "Um...she enjoys cheesy martial arts movies, anything to do with fashion. She's a soldier, so anything to do with relaxing works."

She wasn't entirely sure what was on the train besides a garden and entertainment car.

Glorfindel, more glowy than usual after the mission, and ever so slightly see through, wandered into the kitchen. It wasn't Purple's turn to cook, but it was something he enjoyed, so he was there to bake.

Or rather to make puff pastry for when he did bake.

His eyebrows went up and he smiled to see Sonya there. "Hello, General. What brings you here? Cake? Pie? Pastry, perhaps?" He did enjoy helping others bake; he wondered if he could join in. Or at least if she wouldn't mind him nearby, puttering about.

The sudden and gradual brightness was enough to get her attention, and gave her a good idea of who was entering the carriage even before they announced their presence.

She returned the smile; small but genuine. "Cake," She answered, recalling their talk when she was in recovery. "It's...well, near enough to Cass's birthday, and this just nearly a tradition."

Nearly, because she wasn't always around to celebrate her daughter's birthday with her. Sometimes she did cheat a little and order the cakes already made, but she would take the time to front and decorate them. Either way, it meant she was there, and that in of itself was worth celebrating.

"Near enough is good enough on this Train," Glorfindel agreed. "What kind are you making? Mind if I putter about?"

"Chocolate with cream cheese icing." She said. "Knock yourself out, just..." She paused, realizing who she was talking to and he would've been too careful to make much of a racket. "Yeah, go on a head."

"Cassie's favorite is a kind called 'red-velvet', but I haven't found any red food coloring. This is as close a recipe otherwise."

"Do we have any beetroot? You can use small amounts for food coloring without adversely affecting the taste," Glorfindel, who was from a world without artificial food colorings said.

Glorfindel had to try hard to make any racket at all, but as she was a friend, he didn't bother and went on his business without a sound, except for when he spoke.

"Why do they call it red velvet? Is it simply the name?" he asked. He measured out the ingredients by sight, as this was a recipe he'd been making so often lately.

She looked up at him with a slight start. "You tell me this now when it's nearly done baking." And she wasn't about to start a new one, unless, by some freak accident, this didn't turn out well.

Well, she knew for next time atleast. "I think it's just a name, or maybe because it resembles red velvet." She just knew the recipe, not the history of the name. "It's Cassie's favorite, that's the extent of my knowledge-outside of the recipe of course."

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