“Deep dark chocolate,” Alan mumbled around a spoonful. “Come to the Dark Side… we have chocolate….”
Aladdin eyed the swirls of rukh around the pair of them, but it was brighter than ever, bits of gold sparkling in silver like a scatter of diamond dust. Obviously this was going to be one of those weird things Ugo hadn’t told him about. But Alan was eating this with Morgan, so it was probably not something people tossed you out of taverns for doing in public.
He dug into the vanilla first anyway. Just to be safe.
Ooo sweet cold yummy cold ow more!
“Whoa, whoa, slow down!” Alan patted his shoulder across the table. “You’ll get brain-freeze. That’s no way to introduce yourself to ice cream.”
“’S good!” Aladdin mumbled. “Like some of the spice-drinks in Sindria. Only cold!” You could get cold stuff in Sindria, even if it was tropical. It just took some magic. Yamraiha had made ice for drinks a lot, especially for Hinahoho and his family. “So wha’s chocolate-”
Oo. Sweet and bitter, like someone had made coffee sweet enough to warm you clear through. And rich enough that he knew Sinbad would have stocked this on trading vessels to everywhere. Assuming he could pry it away from Yamraiha, Sharrkan, and Ja’far. All of them loved coffee-like stuff, and Ja’far would have been pointy about it.
Okay. Some things about this world? Were awesome.
Especially the way his friends were trying not to giggle at him. He could still feel sadness in the rukh around Alan, like a ghost of smoke. But there was happy ringing through it now, like his friend was finally starting to feel the world around him with his own heart, not through an icy veil of grief.
Well, I know how to help that. Quick as a dragonfly, Aladdin darted a spoon into Alan’s bowl.
“Oi!”
“Ooo,” Aladdin mumbled around his stolen goodies. It wasn’t quite as sweet as his ice cream, but the flavors were even richer. “This is even better!” Spoon in hand, he grinned mischief, and dove again.
“Oh no you don’t!” Alan jerked his bowl left, up, right, left, down-
Aladdin giggled, chasing the ice cream across the table. Funny how most people thought magicians just needed magic. Good aim, the ability to predict what you were up against, even the skill to crack something over its head with a staff – all of those could be difference between a dead magi and a live one. Alibaba had always been willing to help him play with what he could do. Even if that ended up with him soaked to the skin from Yamraiha’s water magic.
Alan wants to play too. Aladdin stole another spoon of dark chocolate, seeing Morgan sit back and finish her own with a grin, watching her friends show off.
“Boys,” one of the servers chuckled, walking by with a platter of different dishes for a table full of younger kids down at the other end of the shop.
“You should see what they do in the dojo,” Morgan smiled back.
Crossover Queen's Creative Chaos 
I now want to see Aladdin the first time he gets a mocha. And Chocolate is the food of the gods.
Also, since I haven’t said it yet, can I mention how I love how you’re using the Mayan in this as a still living culture?
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Well, it is a living culture – although sometimes a scary one.
There’s a rather chilling account in “Disasters in field research : preparing for and coping with unexpected events” of an anthropologist who got sick while studying the area, who had to try and survive while her Mayan host family was solemnly assuring her that she’d 1) gotten sick because of all her offenses to the mountain spirits, 2) ignorance was no excuse, and 3) if she were lucky, she’d die.
…Boy, am I glad I’m not an anthropologist.
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I actually wonder how much of that is the difference in diseases and their transmission in the Americas versus Europe. The various hemorrhagic fevers and how they spread likely makes it obvious that there are bad places that can make you sick.
Still, doesn’t make it any better for her.
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Hard to say, there are hemorrhagic fevers native to all three continents you’ve mentioned. Hantaviruses are everywhere!
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