smells just like home [pickle]

[swanlake]

What in the world was that delightful scent? Wafting through the dormitories as if they were its own personal terrain, the smells of cinnamon and vanilla and other pleasant spices. Alpha stopped short, just a few steps away from her own room as she inhaled deeply the sweet aroma. Her mother would often bake when she was home, and Alpha could recall sweet delicacies that melted in one's mouth the moment you bit into them. Her personal favorite had always been her mother's homemade cinnamon rolls, with gooey icing that melted right on the bun.


Oddly, the smell weaving in the hallways of the dormitories smelled just like her mother's cinnamon rolls. Surely her mother wasn't there baking. It was impossible. Alpha had just talked to her on the phone only moments ago, and had heard the stomach-twisting noises of home over the receiver. That phone call alone was enough for her to sick to her stomach from missing her family, and now this smell?


The universe was out to destroy her.


And yet, Alpha couldn't stop herself from approaching the room that the scent was coming from and tentatively knocking on the door. Perhaps she was dreaming, and her mother would open the door. Hug her only - albeit, adopted - daughter tightly, and offer her some amazing treat she had just baked. Titter over how Alpha was always so thin, that she should just eat a little more.


No, it wasn't allowed to be a dream. Because then Alpha would have to wake up, and her heart would be broken. No, this was reality. Her mother was not beyond that door, making cinnamon rolls. It was someone else. Perhaps she was just even hallucinating. The smell was all in her head.


Even so, Alpha knocked on the door, expecting to see her mother standing on the other side, with her sun-darkened skin and big brown eyes, welcoming her with a warm embrace. Instead, it was a girl younger than she was, with these huge eyes and blonde hair. "Oh," the brunette said with a slight bit of astonishment, taking a small step back. Of course it hadn't been her mother. She'd been foolish to get her hopes up.


But she had knocked, and now wasn't the time to be rude. She had to say something, in order for this girl not to think that she had come this way for nothing. As the door had opened, the scent had just seemed to increase, as if a wave had been pushing against the door and burst out of its containment. "I'm terribly sorry to bother you, but are you making something in there? Because it smells absolutely divine."

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[PICKLE ABREY]

Pickle had finished her homework, and really had nothing better to do than bake. She was trying to get a bit of practice in, because there was a little baking competition at the park next weekend, and if she could win it—then she could shove that right into Freddie’s face. RJ and Addison would be proud of her, and everything would be wonderful and nothing would hurt. So, again Pickle was baking up a storm. She was completely aware that her lonely suite dorm always smelled sweet and warm, and sometimes that smell leaked into the hall where some people knocked. But those knockings had become less when people found out who lived in the dorm. Apparently people were weirded out by her, which was nothing new to her. But it also meant sneaking into the commons to leave the leftovers when she baked too many.

However, there was a knock at the door, just as she was putting frosting on the cookies. It caused her to stop for a moment, holding the icing bag in her hands, and glancing around. Had she heard correctly? Someone was here? Carefully, she set the bag down and wiped her hands on her apron before going to the door. It could be Addison, maybe. Or Freddie come to harass her again. But no, he’d never be seen at her dorm. Of course not. She opened the door slowly, before letting it open the rest of the way, staring at the girl in front of her door. Pickle’s blonde hair was down and messy, and her wide eyes made her looked a little more startled than she actually was. Her face did fall a little when the girl spoke and took a step back. Pickle’s slender shoulders dropped a little, and her face hardened slightly, waiting for the girl to just walk away. Most people did. Like she was a beast, hideous to look at.

Pickle glanced over her shoulder at her dorm when the girl asked, before nodding, and a smile swept across her lips at the compliment. “Thank you, I do love baking. Would you like to come in? I could always use a taste tester!” Her entire face lit up, and her accent seemed to have an excited chirp to it. It wasn’t just any accent though, but a southern one. And not just any southern one, it had the dips, swings, and pitches of nothing but a Louisiana accent. Something that made you think of canoes in the Bayou, or big Victorian dresses on a plantation in the spring. “I’m Pickle, by the way. I’d shake your hand, but...” She held up her own fingers, which had flour on it, and seemed to glisten with sticky sugar. She took a step back to allow the other girl in. “I don’t get a lot of visitors, I’m sort of….” Pickle’s brows knitted together while she started to wander back to the kitchen, pulling open the oven to draw out the muffins that were baking inside. “I’m sort of a pariah.” She shrugged her shoulders, setting the muffins on the stove, giving them a little sniff. “I haven’t seen you around before, who are you?”

Outfit

[swanlake]

This girl was as sweet as the sugar that coated her fingers, Alpha immediately discovered. She invited her in without knowing who Alpha even was, offering to have her taste test the obvious delicacies she was baking. Now, Alpha was never one to say no to something homemade. Growing up on her mother's cooking had made this slim brunette a secret sugar-lover, a guilty pleasure that only her family ever had really known about. Outside, in the real world, Alpha appeared to be a health nut. Fruits and veggies and proteins and all that.


But behind the closed doors of her home, the seventeen-year-old would be like a fat kid in a sweets shop. Closing the door behind her, as it was late and surely there were girls already asleep in their own rooms, Alpha gave a tentative smile at Pickle's introduction and questions. "I'm Alpha Megalos," she responded, glancing over at the oven as Pickle pulled out the muffins. Oh, and they were blueberry. Alpha didn't normally believe in magic, but it was obvious that something absolutely fantastic had just happened. There had to be some sort of force out there that had told this Pickle girl to make Alpha's favorite breakfast treat just at the moment that she was going to pass by. There was no other explanation.


Realizing she still had explaining to do, Alpha turned her attention back to Pickle, giving a rare, broad smile. It was obvious that something about baked goods could easily bring out her more exuberant side. "I actually just transferred here about a week ago. That's probably why you haven't seen me around. I'm still finding my way around the school, and I tend to get lost a lot."


Which was actually the reason why Alpha had been arriving at the dorm so late in the evening. Stupid dark campus and its lack of proper lighting. And maps. Why couldn't they have given her a map when she'd arrived? Surely Alpha wasn't the first new student to arrive in the middle of a school year? Or perhaps they didn't have them very often, which would make sense for the lack of a map. But the freshmen - they'd need to find their ways around campus as well. Then again, freshmen were usually given tours, weren't they? Oh, this was absolutely confusing.


"Um, if I may ask, why are you baking so late?" Now, Alpha realized she was being a tad daring, especially for her. But she was curious, and the idea of being able to eat something sweet -- and homemade -- made her a little bolder than normal. Which was her reasoning for asking Pickle a question so aruptly.

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