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At this point, it's probably old hat for Teagan to find Sturm's place. Still, the Jotun texts them the address all the same - just like she always does in that oddly formal way of hers.
Unlike most times Teagan's come over in the past, though, there's music playing from an - honestly hella impressive - stereo system. It's not terribly loud, but it's probably enough to disturb the neighbors at this hour, and Sturm is laying on her back - still wearing her workout clothes, and maybe looking a little ragged - on that ugly-ass couch in the front room and looking up at the ceiling while a slow and murky bassline gently rattles the room.
They don't knock -- of course -- and they take the time and glamour to actually turn into shadow and then turn back into a person again, sliding underneath the door in case there's, you know, a locked door between them and Sturm. Not that she doesn't know they're coming -- she does -- but for Inscrutable Teagan Reasons.
Cats, man.
Anyway, Teagan appears in the doorway to the living room, shoulder leaned against the door frame, and just kinda stands there. Waiting.
The door is definitely unlocked - not that Teagan would know it. Thankfully, there's a pause as the song changes, and Sturm is cognizant enough to recognize the sounds of movement when they're a few feet away from her. She sits up, looking over the back of the couch at the den's entrance.
"Shit. Hey." Sturm blinks a few times, and then swings her legs over the side of the couch so she can turn the stereo down to a reasonable, conversation-allowing volume - or off, if Teagan prefers. She throws on a hoodie over her sports bra, and leans against the speaker cabinet. She's got a black eye and a split lip - though those are practically permanant fixtures for the Jotunn - and she's wearing a little half-frown. "Everything go okay with the, uhh. The thing?"
The Mirrorskin looks a little distant, maybe. Something's a little -- weird, in their eyes. Not the sort of thing that most people would notice, but Sturm has spent more than a little time looking at those particular eyes.
(Not that she'd ever admit it.)
Teagan offers a weak sort of smile, and wanders over to the couch, reaching up for a moment as if to brush just below that black eye, and then remembers themself, and doesn't. Instead, they sit down on the end of the couch, where Sturm's feet were. "We found what we needed. I think we know where the shield is -- Johnnie drew a map -- and I even think we might know where one of Significant's Icons is."
Their lips press into a line. "But, uh. That's -- not." Beat. "All."
"Oh. Well." The Jotunn's face twists into something resembling confusion when she notices the distant expression. She hovers awkwardly as Teagan sits, bathing in the comforting glow of whatever song comes on after I'm Free Now on Cure For Pain for a few moments longer before joining them on the couch. With a cushion in-between them, of course. "That's good, right? Means there's a direction to go in."
... but her face falls when Teagan continues, though - and a familiar expression takes it's place on her lips.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BlAWsVXKzq8
She had black hair like ravens crawling over her shoulders
All the way down
She had a smile that swerved
She had a smile that curved
She had a smile that swerved all over the road
It's all wrong, all wrong.
Yeah, a real comforting glow, all things considered. Teagan runs both of their hands through their short black hair, ruffling it awkwardly, as if looking for where to start. "Don't -- don't look like that, doll. It's not bad. It's just -- "
"Okay, I guess I should tell you the whole story." The Mirrorskin turns toward Sturm, leaning one elbow on the back of the couch, and pulls their knee up onto the couch so they can watch her. Fortunately for Teagan, telling the difference between the Sturm on the couch and the one in the dream is real easy, on account of one of them is built perfectly and one of them was not. "She took us to Valhalla, in her dream. Her memory of how she got out. And then she went into her Eidolon, so she wasn't with us. Like, if she hadn't, we'd all have had to experience it first-hand. I made myself a telescope to get a good look at where the shield fell, in her dream. But... "
"... but. You saw me instead." Sturm sets her jaw, and draws her legs up onto the couch so that she can sit cross-legged. Her hoodie's unzipped so it's begun to droop down her shoulder, exposing the intricate scars on her biceps for a moment - another marked difference between the Sturm from then and the Sturm from now - until she pulls it back up and draws it closed.
She's quiet, and the only thing that fills the space is the singer on the record continuing to lazily croon the lyrics in his droll and husky way.
All wrong all wrong
She had a way of making people feel good to be around her
As it should be
It's all wrong all wrong
All wrong all wrong
All wrong all wrong
All wrong
"I mean, yes? But... we also saw the shield. That part happened. We got what we needed to, there, and probably more. Like I said, I think we found one of her Icons, or will, we know where it is." The Mirrorskin reaches across the couch, and so often they feint toward contact and then shy away, but this time, their mirror-dark fingers rest on Sturm's hand, unless she pulls away. It's the lightest contact, barely there but there all the same.
"I saw Sigrun streaking across the sky toward a hole in the thorn wall that was closing so fast she'd never be able to get there in time. I saw her trying to get there, burning across the night like a falling star, and I knew I was about to watch her crash into the thorns, there was no way she could get there in time." They take in a breath, and let it out as a sigh. "And then? I saw an incredibly strong Jotunn with markings that I know very well pick up a massive stone and throw it past her, punching the hole in the thorns big enough for Sig to make it out of Valhalla and into the Hedge."
And when she laughs I travel back in time
Something flips the switch and I collapse inside
It's all wrong all wrong
Sturm's jaw stays rigid - you can almost hear her teeth grinding - until Teagan places a hand atop hers. She doesn't pull away, and her cracked, icy hand is cold to the touch - causing Teagan's mirror skin to fog up just a touch. Her mask wobbles slightly and there's a very brief moment where something flashes across Sturm's face. Recognition? Shame? Hope? Whatever it was disappeared in the duration of a blink, and the is quickly replaced by a neutral expression.
"I... don't remember any of that that. Mostly feelings." She trails off, letting the swell in music fill in the cracks in the conversation. "... but nobody ever said I was a good shot or anything."
The Mirrorskin's fingers creep over Sturm's hand, curling between her fingers and her palm. If you're squinting, that kind of looks like Teagan's holding Sturm's hand. Almost. Kind of. A little bit. Don't tell anyone. They scoot a little bit closer in order to do just that, and watch her face with the sort of careful attention that's necessary to catch those little flashes and interpret them.
"You might not, but she does. It's there in her subconscious," Teagan offers quietly, their fogged-up digits squeezing just a little around her hand. "But the thing is... as far as I can tell? You weren't aiming for her. You were aiming past her. And, um."
"You and Sig both came out in New York, right?"
Sturm shifts her fingers ever-so-slightly, so that the Mirrorskin has an easier time not-holding her hand. She doesn't look down at the gesture, but she sighs - she's thankful for the contact - and some of the tension bleeds out of the Jotunn's shoulders. She shifts awkwardly... and uses the movement as cover to scoot just a little bit closer, too.
"Well. That'd be nice, but... Well. Feel like we wouldn't have had such a violent reaction at our first meeting if that was the case, though." Her tone is distant, and stony - and then confused. "... but I didn't come out of the Hedge in New York - and when I did... I was by myself."
A little shake of their head. "I don't know about that," Teagan answers, adding, "You don't remember much, and she doesn't remember much. And ... " A pause, as the Mirrorskin looks for words. "Sometimes, if something's bad or good, or even just... there... when it comes to our time There... we can react violently. That doesn't necessarily mean anything." Their hand stays exactly where it is; just contact, the same way their eyes are fixed on her face, her countenance reflected in a thousand little fractions.
"I thought it would make things neat and simple, but I should have known better," Teagan replies. And then they laugh softly. "You should know by now that time is a fuck when it comes to Arcadia. I know of people who escaped together but one of them returned to the real world five years before the other, and ... not in the same place at all. So that doesn't mean much."
"I know what I saw, doll. I saw you break the Thorns. I saw Sigrun get out because you broke the Thorns. And --" A deep breath. " -- if you want my help to go find what you saw, when you got out... " they leave the offer sitting there on the metaphorical table.
The thing about watching Sturm's face is that if you can manage to catch her at just the right moment, you'll notice that she's not actually that good at keeping her feelings under wraps. Rarely will she outright let the mask slip, but there are tells that break through from time to time.
"Maybe." Her hand is as placid as a frozen lake - like she's afraid that if she moves an inch, the brief contact will end. The corner of her mouth wobbles briefly when Teagan laughs. Almost a smile, even in the middle of this fucking dreadful conversation. "Yeah. Time is a fuck, so... it's possible, but..." Her brow furrows and she's quiet for a long while. Long enough for the song to come to an end, and for the record to move onto the next track.
"Dunno." The giant seems to go a little pale, and the temperature in the room sinks a few degrees as her mantle flares. "I think I'd be ashamed for..." She works her jaw, and looks off to the side - hoping, probably that not looking at Teagan'll make it easier to say some things aloud. "People that I... care about to see me... like that. Doesn't feel like that person is me for a lot of reasons, and I've only just gotten used to people seeing me, y'know?"
She succeeds in making it through her admission, and manages to reset her scowl before turning back. "... but I want to know what happened." Beat. "If there's a chance that I... wasn't responsible, then I need to know."
Teagan watches her intently, as if nothing else in the world exists right now. And it's possible that -- for Teagan -- no one else does. They trust their motley to take care of each other, after all, and they need to focus on the here and now, and Sturm, who has (at the moment) no motley.
"I've already seen that face." That comes with a slow roll of Teagan's shoulders. "I had to look at that face really carefully, to look at the markings, and know whether I was imagining -- or hoping -- that it was you who helped her escape. And I know which face is the right face. I know which face belongs to -- " A pause. "To you. The real you. I helped you finalize it, after all. There's no chance that I'll see any face but this one as yours."
They nod, their hand still resting in hers. "As far as I'm concerned, the matter is settled. Like... you threw the rock. She got out. You helped. But... it could be better. There could be better news."
A cheeky smile slips briefly across their face. "Besides, you'll get to sleep with me, and that's what you've wanted, right?" That question ought to come with an 'ayyy' and fingerguns.
Sturm's jaw wobbles again and she draws her lower lip into her mouth. Goddamnit, Teagan stop saying all the right things. She takes a deep breath, which seems to rattle around inside her chest like a cold wind gusting through a mountain pass. The icy flesh around her eyes seems to take on that blusy-y navy blue quality, and it seems like she might cry at hearing that - but turns to stare at the wall instead.
The music on the stereo bleeds into the conversation through the silent cracks.
I propose a toast to my self control
You see it crawling helpless on the floor
... and then Teagan cracks jokes, and her sniffle turns into a snort. "Yes, but - God, you were doing so well with all the face shit." The snort becomes a weak little chuckle - and her normally-stony face cracks into a grin. "Fuck you, Teagan, that's so inappropriate."
Their hand stays on her hand, holding on to it no matter how Sturm's expression changes or how she looks away. There's only a subtle tightening of their fingers on hers when she looks away at the wall. Teagan has a lot of patience, and they wait it out. They wait it out past the end of Cure for Pain, and then they flash a grin at her when her sniffle turns into a snort.
"You know I couldn't leave you here looking like you're about to lose your shit. If I can make you laugh and tell the truth at the same time, that's a win for me." They scoot a little bit closer, and their fingers curl around her hand just a bit more. "Not yet, doll. Not yet. You'll have to make do with falling asleep next to me and showing me your worst traumas." They droll that with their usual dry delivery.
One of those two things is much more intimate than the other, but let's not examine that too hard.
Let's take a trip together
Headlong into the irresistible orbit
Breathing the cold black space
With the glistening edges
The music crawls into the spaces in the conversation. "It's an offer, doll." Their other hand reaches to adjust the stone on the silver-wire bracelet around their left wrist. "We ain't gotta."
"Thank God for that. I've been feeling like I'm about to lose my shit a lot these days. Used to be so much fuckin' better about keeping a lid on things, I swear." She's quiet as she tries to ignore the level of intimacy and trust that's going to require of her, and the music plays on. Then, Sturm finally moves the hand that's been touching Teagan's for the better part of this conversation - turning it palm-side up so that their fingers come to rest in the center of her enormous grasp.
Just to be alone
Just to be alone with thee
"No, I do. Ghh-" She clears her throat, and her voice comes out as a hoarse little growl. "Stupid fuckin' Lux." Beat. "I want to do it. I need to see the things you saw if I'm going to ever be able to... let myself off the hook."
"I'm not gonna walk away from you," Teagan reassures quietly. "And sometimes the lid has to come off so you can figure shit out. I dunno. It's a hard metaphor. But I'm not going anywhere."
Somewhere there's no distracting breeze of information
Leaking through the windows dripping from the trees
Somewhere there's no earthquakes
Of other people's anxious questions
When Sturm's hand turns palm-up, Teagan's hand moves to match, turning its palm down over hers; their long, slender fingers are dwarfed by her hand, and their mirrored skin fogs up as their digits knit in with hers. "What about Lux?" There's a moment's surprise, there. "You do need to see those things, yes. And... yeah. But like... when you're ready. I'm not marching you to the task."
"Well, uhh." Sturm exhales slowly, and then she shifts position - rotating her legs so that they're underneath her, rather than crossed in front of her. She's careful to make sure the movement doesn't reach her hand, though. That stays where it is. With Teagan's in hers.
No nervous wrecks going down
No nervous wrecks going down
Let's take a trip together
Headlong into the irresistible orbit
"I'd rather not go into the major details of it, but we met with Marjorie - when I volunteered to fix her fucking dishwasher, apparently - and then we stayed to chat for a little bit about the game." She works her jaw, settling back into the couch. "We got into a disagreement about something... but ultimately came to the conclusion that I... should work on talking about the shit I want and need."
They sit very, very still, just holding on to Sturm's hand, and tilt their head to look at her sidelong as she talks. Absently, they chew on their lower lip, listening to her. There's a puff of laughter at the end of it. "Oh, did Lux give you a good talking-to about how you should work on talking about the shit you want and need?"
There's amusement threaded through their voice, there. "I think the phrase is 'physician, heal thyself.'" The Mirrorskin shakes their head again. "Well, you told me what you want and need, and I heard you. Now what?"
"Yeah, I mean. It was a little more complicated than what I described, like..." Sturm deliberately leaves out the part about lifting Lux into the air and threatening to put them through a wall. "Yeah. They did, though. Told me I should feel stuff rather than... not feeling it."
The last question seems to throw her for a loop, and she instinctively scowls in response. "I'm... not sure," Sturm pauses to laugh - like a real laugh, not a little snort. "I've never got this far before, so. Uncharted waters and all that shit." Beat. When she proceeds, it's with a measured and deliberate tone. "Would you like to maybe stay with me for a while - we could maybe pack a bowl - and listen to some music for a bit?"
"It's always more complicated," Teagan reassures. They get it, or think they do, anyway. Their hand squeezes hers, even though her fingers loop almost all the way around to touching the back of Teagan's wrist. It's pretty wild, holding hands with someone whose hands are that much bigger than yours.
Another small squeeze. "Yeah, I could do that. Have you done dream work with anyone, like, ever, before?" The Mirrorskin asks.
"Nope." She makes a popping sound with her lips. "There's a reason I was trying to fix that cottage's wall by hand rather than Hedgespinning it fixed." Sturm's hand closes - gently cradling Teagan's - but she never squeezes any tighter. It's a very delicate, restrained action. "So, uhh. I've avoided... a lot of this shit for a while, so. No dream work. With anyone. Like, ever, before."
A small smile slides across Teagan's face, both at the delicateness of the gesture and the response that comes from the Snowskin. Their hand fogs up to underneath the bracelet, condensation climbing over the tattoo on the back of their wrist which declares 'this machine kills rapists.' "That's -- you know. Pretty cool. That you would trust me to help you," posits the Mirrorskin.
"But, uhm. We don't have to jump into the deep end where the sharks are if you've never, ever done any Oneiromancy before. We can, but like... this can be rough. So. If you wanna try something easier first, we can do that, too."
"Yeah, well." Sturm shrugs, and tries to play it off like she's cool - well, metaphorically. She looks off over at the wall again and begins speaking in that slow, measured way again. "You're pretty... important to me, so it's a lot easier to trust you with something like that." She pauses, looking back to fix Teagan with a wry look - even going as far as to stick out her bright blue tongue. "... but don't let it go to your fuckin' head head or anything."
"So... what are the easier options?"
"Oh no, how could I possibly let it get to my head that you trust me to see some of the most traumatic and formative shit that we all go through?" deadpans Teagan in response. "And that you find it 'a lot easier' to trust me with something like that? Yeah I have no idea why that would go to my head at all." They squeeze her hand just a little bit; Teagan has always been a tactile creature, as cats are, and that small permissible bit of touch is taken best advantage of.
"Pretty much any other dream except for 'the part where I busted out of Arcadia.' We can dream about... anything. It's about learning to manipulate the dreamscape. But really, like... it's just like what you do in the Hedge, except like... in the Hedge, the Hedge fights you. In dreams, you're fighting the dreamer's ... head. Like their subconscious."
"You're incorrigible." The frost giant shakes her head. The corners of her mouth are twitching upwards - even if she's trying to hide it - and she gently paps her fingers along the side of Teagan's hand in response to being squeezed.
"Oh, huh." Her voice is low again, and her brow furrows as she looks off past Teagan and into the hall. "Guess I didn't think about that," she turns her attention back - meeting Teagan's eyes. "That'd be nice, actually. Can probably even think of a few non-traumatic things I might like to explore like that. How does it work? Just. Falling asleep near one another? Or do you need to do some kind of special preparations for it?"
That laughter rolls out of Teagan, the sound that has that brilliant brightness like light glinting off of broken glass. "And you like it," they respond. Another squeeze in response to the fingers drumming: a chain of action and reaction between Snowskin and Mirrorskin.
"Um, not just near. We have to be in physical contact. But ... yeah, it's pretty much just... you enter the Gates of Ivory for your own dreams, and you bring me with you. And we work from there."
"Huh," Sturm's voice comes out real quiet again. "Well. Yeah, I do like it. Incorrigible is a good look on you."
... and then Cure for Pain ends, and Sturm looks up at the stereo. "That doesn't sound too awful. I think I could survive having to make physical contact," she drums her fingers against Teagan's hand again to emphasize her sarcastic remarks. "... but come help me pick out another record and I'll pack a bowl and then we can get back to chattering about shit once there's a proper soundtrack."
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