all_the_gifts | (no subject)

January 1st, 2018:

Part of Melanie is sad to miss the New Year's festivities. But she's seen the tree lighting ceremony, and doesn't really think she'll be missing too much. Besides, she doesn't want Newt or James to have to bespell her just so the crowds won't get too overwhelming.

That it's cold makes a difference, too. She doesn't really feel it, but when it gets very cold, like it is now, she's noticed that she starts to slow down a little. She isn't sure what hungries do in regions where it gets this cold, but she knows if anyone saw her slowing down too much, they'd just fret and bring her back inside, anyway.

It's not as if she doesn't like spending time in the Nook. The holiday decorations are still up, and they still look marvelous. She's perfectly happy to just snuggle up with a pile of books.

The books are so absorbing that she completely forgets to mark the official passing of the year. She doesn't watch the clock, she doesn't count down. But midnight still ends up being impossible to miss, because everything changes, all in a rush.

It feels a little like magic, the way her senses are suddenly muted. It's not that she can't smell, or hear, just that she can't smell or hear as much as before. She has to take a few deep breaths just to confirm that she can still smell anything at all, but the sharp pine scent of the tree is still there, and the lingering smells from Newt and James's dinner. To her considerable surprise, those scents, though faint, are more tempting than they've ever been before.

Melanie gets to her feet, frowning as she does so. She feels... heavy. Or heavier, anyway. She shifts her weight experimentally, then takes a few slow steps towards the kitchen. Her body still seems to be working like it should, but it also feels different in myriad ways she finds difficult to place. It isn't until she sets her hand on her own belly, patting herself as if to make sure she's all there, that she realizes she feels warm. Not safe-inside warm, but warmer-than-the-room warm.

She starts to get an inkling, then, of what this might mean, but it's so hard to believe that she shakes her head in automatic denial. Even Newt and James, with all their magic, can't fix her. They can make a broom fly, but they can't make her what she's not.

She's still standing there, bewildered, when someone finally walks into the room. "I think something's wrong with me," she says.

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"Luckily there's a bunch of us trying to stop it, though I fear, given its size, it'll cause a decent amount of destruction," Newt admits, shaking his head. And here Darrow is without a group of Aurors able to reverse the damage in a matter of hours. Oh well. He'll do his best to help with the aftermath where he can, as well. He's used to these sorts of messes by now.

"Tea would be fantastic," he admits, still watching Melanie. "Would you like help with the tea? I can get the stuff for your tea, if you'd like?"

"I've got it," Melanie assures him, not wanting him to spend any magic or effort on tea when the whole city needs help. "And I'm not hungry."

She's not so sure about that last part. Hunger ought to be a familiar feeling, but now she's awash in feelings that are much harder to define. They could be some new kind of hunger, or they could be something else. But when she tries to imagine eating what she normally would, her insides roil in a way that doesn't seem... good.

Pushing the thought aside, she fills the kettle from the sink. Her brow furrows; it feels heavier than normal, and she peeks inside, as if to make sure nothing more than water has snuck in there, before setting it on the stove and starting the burner.

"Alright," Newt says with a nod. He still doesn't know much about raising young beyond the creatures in his care, but he knows from personal experience that children do like to be independent. Granted, his personal experience is two decades old, at this point, but still. If Melanie says she's got it, he'll let her. "Let me know if you change your mind."

Finally, he lets himself sink into one of the chairs in the living room, the warmth of the cushions cradling him like a very welcome cloud. A nice, strong cup of tea, along with something sweet, sounds exactly the sort of strength he needs at the moment.

He lets his eyes fall shut for a brief moment.

It's all the smells that are strangest. She can tell her nose isn't as sharp as it used to be, but everything used to fit into a few simple categories: food or not food, friend or stranger, familiar or new. Now, it's like someone has gone through all the boxes and started switching things around. Tea is still familiar, but it used to be not food, but now she's not so sure about that last bit. The biscuits she fetches down are even more confusing on that front. She has to hold them closer to her nose to get a good whiff of them, but once she does, her mouth starts to water as if she's just smelled a rabbit or something.

She glances over at Newt. His eyes have fallen shut. Turning her back to him, as if she's about to do something shameful, she takes a tiny, experimental bite of biscuit.

Oh. It's good. And it shouldn't be good; the last time she tried one, out of curiosity, she'd spat it out like it was poison. But now it tastes like the best thing she's ever had, almost as good as when she'd first bitten into that soldier, and she chews in rapt silence for a few moments before the magnitude of this discovery sets in.

"Newt!" she shrieks, spraying crumbs. "I'm eating a biscuit!"

Newt doesn't fall asleep so much as he lets his eyes rest. He does this often, usually in his case, sitting up at his work bench, preparing a potion or reading up on the mating habits of Fwoopers. Typically, he has a mug of tea next to him, one he has to constantly reheat with his wand as he tends to forget about it while it cools. Always, he tells himself he won't let it happen again.

In fairness to him now, he is properly exhausted from all the fighting. The giant Hatchimal is proving quite the foe, and frankly, it's taken more out of him than he expected just to be able to hold it off, let alone slow it down.

He's on the verge of sleep when he hears Melanie shriek. He doesn't make out her words. Instead, alarmed, he bolts from his seat, rushing into the kitchen, wand out at the ready.

"Melanie?" He calls out in concern, glancing around for any sign of danger. "What's going on? What's happened?"

The biscuit is so delicious that she ends up taking another bite in the time it takes Newt to reach the kitchen. His alarmed expression throws her for a moment -- this is definitely strange, but she doesn't think it's bad-strange -- but her mouth is too busy chewing for her to say anything. Instead, she points to the half-eaten biscuit in her hand, and then to her own mouth, her face alight with excitement.

Once she's swallowed, she repeats, "I'm eating a biscuit! Normal food!"

It takes Newt a moment to realize that Melanie actually isn't in any danger. Blinking, he comes to the realization that she's eating a biscuit, and she's enjoying it. She's eating regular, human food, and it isn't making her sick. Blimey, he thinks to himself, a grin slowly spreading across his face. James was right; she really is human.

"I know something even better than biscuits," he tells her, offering her a mischievous smile. "If you'd like to try it."

Since she is human, for however long this lasts, Newt is going to make sure she enjoys herself.

Maybe Melanie should be more careful about this, but if she was going to get sick, she's pretty sure it would have happened already. And biscuits never appealed to her at all -- there isn't enough protein to be worth the bother -- so if anything was going to make her sick, she's pretty sure this would.

"Yes, please," she says, lowering her biscuit-clutching hand, though she isn't about to set what's left aside, or throw it away. Biscuits are delicious. "What is it?"

"Ice cream," Newt tells her with a conspiratorial grin. "The most magical food in all the world."

He flicks his wand to open the freezer, summoning forth the variety of flavors he and James keep on hand. Newt, in particular, has a fondness for sweets, especially of the ice cream variety, and his collection offers a fair variety of flavors.

"And," he continues, flicking his wand again to withdraw some spoons and dishes, "we have the ingredients for ice cream sundaes, which are even better than regular ice cream."

Melanie grins. Normally, she doesn’t think much about which human foods are the best, or the most liked. She likes to know what Newt and James enjoy, because that means she can do things like make their favorite tea if they’re tired or bring them their favorite snack if they’re sad. That’s one of the things she likes about Darrow: food isn’t hard to find, so people can have what they like best instead of just making do with whatever they can forage from ruined shops.

But that broad selection doesn’t really apply to her, and she doesn’t know enough people to concern herself with what most people like. So it isn’t until Newt suggests ice cream that she remembers how popular it is. Not so much in winter, which is probably why she didn’t think of it, herself. But it’s warm in here, and she’s never really minded the cold, so she doesn’t see why a cold snack should be a problem.

“What’s an ice cream sundae?” Melanie gawks at the sheer number of ingredients and things that Newt is magicking over to them. For someone who’s always got by on a small portions, it seems like more food than she could ever manage, even if she only had a bite of each.

"Well, it's essentially ice cream, but with additional ingredients," Newt explains as he finishes laying everything out. "And you can choose which you'd like to add to the ice cream. It makes it taste even more delicious than usual."

"Here," he says, tucking his wand back into the loop on his trousers. "I'll show you."

He scoops some of the chocolate and strawberry ice cream, with just a dash of french vanilla and chocolate chip, for good measure. Once he has his mountain of ice cream established, he moves to the various bowls and containers, placing some crushed walnuts, almonds, whipped cream, and chopped bananas on top. He finishes with a literal cherry on top.

"See?" He holds the bowl out to her to show her, before taking a deep dig of ice cream and shoveling it into his mouth. "It's delicious. But you do have to be careful, though," he speaks as he chews, wincing a bit and holding a hand to his head.

"Brain freeze."