"No way, the life of a mom is predicated on being as unfair as possible." Thankfully, Henry never really balked too hard at her mothering, though there were moments. Like when he'd slipped his father to go blow up magic, or... you know, all the times she'd helped him ignore Regina's mothering to run around for Operation Cobra. Still, sometimes to be a mother it meant you had to make 'unfair' choices. Unfair to the person that didn't want the protection you were trying to lay in place, anyway.
Emma is helping, the best she can. Granted, she's not great at it. She's ribbed hard for not being a dedicated worker, yet it's hard to focus when there are voices that aren't her own in her head. Hisses that she use magic, that'd it be easier, faster — and those are the nicest of the whispers she spends so much time ignoring. It's not the kind of work Emma is suited for, or particularly wants to do. It's at least less dangerous than the alternative, though.
"Maybe not lasagna, but something more simple maybe." Thank god they didn't need to worry about changing things here, as far as Emma was aware, it was not the past of this world. She wasn't going to ruin their lives by teaching the cooks about chicken dumpling soup. Hell that would probably make it better! Next lesson: Handwashing 101.
Emma lets her hand settle on the arm of her friend and takes the stairs slowly, and honestly she doesn't think it's so much for safety as it is for the fact the savior does not find such exercises easy in a corset. Despite her faces and grumbles, though, she looks the part better than one would expect. She would rather not have to wear the same dress and ratty cloak that she arrived in every day, they just don't have much options until they are a little more established. It's hard not to admire the pretty things floating around but there's no chance in hell Emma would spend their short stipend on looking pretty.
no subject
Emma is helping, the best she can. Granted, she's not great at it. She's ribbed hard for not being a dedicated worker, yet it's hard to focus when there are voices that aren't her own in her head. Hisses that she use magic, that'd it be easier, faster — and those are the nicest of the whispers she spends so much time ignoring. It's not the kind of work Emma is suited for, or particularly wants to do. It's at least less dangerous than the alternative, though.
"Maybe not lasagna, but something more simple maybe." Thank god they didn't need to worry about changing things here, as far as Emma was aware, it was not the past of this world. She wasn't going to ruin their lives by teaching the cooks about chicken dumpling soup. Hell that would probably make it better! Next lesson: Handwashing 101.
Emma lets her hand settle on the arm of her friend and takes the stairs slowly, and honestly she doesn't think it's so much for safety as it is for the fact the savior does not find such exercises easy in a corset. Despite her faces and grumbles, though, she looks the part better than one would expect. She would rather not have to wear the same dress and ratty cloak that she arrived in every day, they just don't have much options until they are a little more established. It's hard not to admire the pretty things floating around but there's no chance in hell Emma would spend their short stipend on looking pretty.