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The yard out front of the summer longhouse is blooming into green now that Spring is literally right around the corner. The Valkyrie has finished her patrol for the day, and has her horse tethered up outside of the longhouse. She's given her food and water and is now undertaking the business of brushing out her coat to clean off the trod dust. She's still carrying her broadsword and battleax on her weapon belt, though her shield and spear rest against the longhouse wall, freeing her hands up for their work in grooming her fae mount.
And while Sigrun does that, Teagan is sitting on the ground nearby, lounging against a tree, bonding with their machete. Sharpening their machete. Whatever. There's a slow, repetitive shink, shink, shink as the whetstone slides across the blade. If it were a normal blade, that amount of sharpening would be kinda weird, but it's not.
Sturm is a tad late for their meeting time. Probably nerves, or psyching herself up, or something. Thankfully [Random Summer NPC] lets the massive jotun into the Hollow without too much hastle.
She looks pretty out of place against the greenery in her dark clothing and heavy coat. She's unarmed - or as unarmed as the massive pugilist is likely to be by choice - and wearing a frown in it's usual place. She shrugs out of her coat, and tosses it over a shoulder as she approaches the pair of Summers in silence.
Sigrun finishes the brushing of her horse in short order, stuffing the brush back into the saddle bags which are resting over the hitching post. She leans a bit to the side to check to make sure the animal is content, pats at the beast's neck, and then moves around the horse's rear to advance in Sturm's direction, stopping after a few paces. She lifts a hand in greeting, which under the circumstances is downright cordial. "Hey."
They roll up to their feet, leaving their own heavy coat on the ground, and their head tips to the side. The whetstone gets dropped on their coat, and the machete in their hands draws attention, almost demanding it. Teagan couldn't hide in a crowd at the moment -- until, of course, they hang the machete on their hip, and its blood-soaked handle and blade become just another piece of metal and wood. "Ey."
Sturm waits patiently for Sigrun and Teagan to finish their respective forms of maintainence. She nods (without grunting) to the valkyrie's greeting - likely the 'friendliest' of a greetings the giant is capable of - and then to the mirrorskin - taking note of the wicked-looking machete at their hip.
"So," she grumbles quietly - hands in her pockets. "Uhh." Beat. "Well. I'm glad you're back on your feet, or whatever."
"What's a little hyper vigilance among friends?" Sigrun shrugs her shoulders before folding her arms up across her stomach. She watches Sturm for a few moments of silent appraisal before slowly rolling out her shoulders and unfolding her arms again. "Listen. I'm sorry I pulled that trick on you. Don't get me wrong. I'd do it again under the same set of circumstances, but now that I have a better understanding of what that was all about, I'm not going to smack you with it again unless you do something stupid. I overreacted, and I see that now."
The Mirrorskin just sort of stands there, hand on the handle of their machete. It doesn't have menace to it, really, that gesture -- if anything, it's self-soothing. They're just watching.
"Yeah." Sturm makes that little snort-laugh thing she does when shit's tense... but she seems to uncoil a little bit as Sigrun apologizes - shoulders slumping just a hair. "I appreciate it." Beat. "... and I was a dickhead. Let my... uhh, experiences color my perception of the situation. Got offended, and said some shitty things. I can't say I... fully understand it, but I do, uhh. Get it."
"Good. Then that's settled, then. We good?" Sigrun's head ticks to the side just a hair as she frames the question. It seems she's all too happy to put the events of the last week behind her and move on with her life. She briefly glances over at Teagan, checking their reaction to all of this.
And Teagan's reaction to all of this is a subtle smile and an upnod of their chin toward Sigrun. Their broken-mirror eyes glitter, a low-key sort of reaction, but it's a reaction all the same. They don't say anything, just yet.
Sturm peers at the two for a moment - and though understanding dawns on her, the comfortable frown stays in place. She nods.
"Pretty much. Where do we go now?"
"Me, I'm going to New York soon to track down something I lost during my escape. I figure I'll go to the coronation tomorrow evening, tie one on, get some sleep, and be on my way. You're welcome to do whatever it is you feel like you need to do. I don't think we need to force things and pretend we're best friends, or whatever. We have a common enemy, and dealing with him is more important than wounded pride or shit we can only barely remember. So." Sigrun shrugs her shoulders as she looks back Sturm's way. "Hatchet buried. I call that a win. Relatively speaking."
Sturm peering at them has Teagan lazily rolling their shoulders. They still don't have much to say -- they're just watching, and most definitely not interfering. It's apparently pretty important to them that they not do so.
The corner of the giant's mouth switches as if she's going to say something, but the reflex is suppressed. Sturm sighs deeply, and she begins to absentmindedly fiddle with some hidden object in her pocket. "If you say so," there's the barest tinge of disappointment in her voice. "Good luck with your thing, then. I'll get out of your hair now."
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