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With Marjorie finally gone, Sturm breathes a sigh of relief before picking up the little Sigurine again. She peers at the little valkyrie, and then reaches down to her side to fetch a little square of brown canvas - and a hobby knife - from the tackle box of supplies. "So. D&D?"
Lux leans forward, resting their elbows on the tabletop, cupping their face in their hands as they smile at her. "Mhmm. D&D. I... honestly have nooo idea where to start. Other than I wanna play a Bard. They're the prettiest ones right?"
"Pretty is kinda subjective in the game, honestly. Anyone can be pretty in D&D - but if you want to be the most likable socially-speaking, you're probably going to want to play a bard or a sorcerer. Someone whose primary stat is Charisma." Sturm begins to - with very delicate movements - cut little pieces from the cloth square with her xacto knife - and then compares them to Lil Sigrun for size.
They watch Strum work, a smile lingering on their face. "The bards are the ones that can play instruments and stuff, right? I'll probably stick with 'em. Mearcstapa was talking to me about the sorta people I could be, and he suggested like... ummm. Like a water-elemental person ooor a peacock-bird-person."
"Yeah, they play instruments - though you don't have to play an instrument. Your performance skill can be anything that an entertainer would do in real life. You could have a bard who is a good storyteller, or a rapper, or even a dancer." Sturm sights Lux out of the corner of her eye, and fixes them with a fond-ish look. Again, it's hard to tell with her. "You'd make for a great peacock-bird-person. Considering you're so much of a peacock in real life."
Sturm's got jokes.
Lux gasps, lights brightening at the thought. "I'll be a dancing bard, then. Hmm... Peacock, yes. With lots of tail feathers to shake around." Their lips curl into a wider grin. "Sounds perfect."
"You're ridiculous," the Jotunn does that little snort-laugh of hers, and then she sets down her tools to rummage through the tacklebox again - this time returning with a needle and thread. "Not in a bad way, but... you're ridiculous." Beat. "So far I know that Mearcstapa wants to play a Rogue, Jack probably wants to play something that heals, and you want to play a Bard. Got no frickin' idea what anybody else would like to play - and I'm also pretty sure none of them have ever played before so that'll be a thing to juggle..."
"I take that as a compliment," they reply cheerfully. "Yeah, Mearcstapa mentioned playing a... cat person thing, which is gonna be adorable. I can't wait. I'm kinda surprised you invited Jack, honestly--didn't know you two were close. Not that I'm complaining at all, it'll be fun to have him there. And uhh... I only played once before, but I wouldn't really call it.... experience. I only really did it to harvest from this cute nerdy girl who was super lonely. So I wasn't really paying attention..."
"Wasn't going to originally, but Mearcstapa suggested that I invite him. Figured it'd be a dick move to invite two thirds of his polycule, but leave him out." Sturm's expression droops a bit when Lux finishes their story, and she turns her attention back to the figure. The figure that she's now attempting to sew a tiny gambeson onto. "Eight people is going to be a lot. High potential for personality clash."
"We don't have to all be invited to... everything together. Doing things separately is okay sometimes." Their grin dims a little, falling quiet for a few seconds as they watch her sew. "...You gonna be okay, Strum?" the question is asked softer, more sincere.
"Why wouldn't I be alright?" She doesn't look up from the figure, though.
"You're gonna be surrounded by two polycules at the same time. One of which includes the person you're in love with." They don't move, still slumped over the table with their chin in their hands, though their eye lights seem to focus in on her more intently.
"Love's a strong word for it. Wouldn't put it that way, myself." The air seems to cool around her, and the next breath Lux takes probably makes their lungs tingle just a little bit. "All of my... friends are in polycules - most of them with one another. Doesn't seem like I should let that stop me from making sure everyone has fun."
"Hmm, well, yeah--but..." They shrug. "You should have fun too." They lean over more, arms crossing so they can rest their head down on them instead. "What way would you put it, then?"
"If everyone at the table has fun, I'll have fun." It's a very simple statement. One that probably says a lot about Sturm as a person. More than she probably even thinks. She pokes the pad of her thumb with the needle when Lux asks that question. It's not enough to break skin (because Sturm is a ridiculous mass of scars and callouses) but she does grunt in surprise, and pull her hand back.
"Would probably say that it's confusing, and that I'm very tired." Sturm frowns.
Lux's eyes half lid into a softer expression. "Do you want to try to talk through it? Might make it less confusing."
"... maybe. I'm not sure." She purses her lips, and tries her best to continue working on Lil Sig - but ultimately decides that now is probably not the time. So she puts Sigrun back in the tacklebox, and pulls out another figure to work on instead.
"Well. I'm here to listen. If you wanna... give that a shot."
Sturm sets down the little figurine. This one's an unpainted werebear - but it looks like some of the features have been sanded down so she can re-sculpt them with epoxy. She turns her sullen gaze upon Lux, and peers at them for a very long time before saying anything else.
"Why do you give a shit?"
"Because... you're my friend?" Their brow arches. "And you're hurting."
"Just don't see what you're supposed to get out of it." Her brow furrows. "... and who says I'm hurting."
"I'm not getting anything out of it. Not... tangibly, anyway. But seeing you feel better will make me feel better." The last part just gets a laser-pointed stare from the Bright One.
Sturm returns the look with an icy, withering glare of her own... but she's not feeling it, so the glare is half-hearted at best, and doesn't last for nearly as long as it could've. "Don't know how to explain it. Don't even know where to start to explain it."
"Mm..." Their lips purse to the side thoughtfully. "Okay. Mmm... How do you feel right now?"
Sturm... offers a weak little laugh. "Tired. I'm so fucking tired." Then her brow furrows again. "Someone told me this thing once about cups as a metaphor for, I dunno, fuckin' energy levels or some shit - and my cup is empty. It's just... empty all the fucking time."
Lux frowns, quiet for several seconds before their head lifts, sitting up. "There's nothing that makes you feel... fuller?"
"Well. Yeah, sometimes. It's... complicated." Sturm takes a deep breath, and adopts her frown again. It's a comfortable mask to wear. "Dunno. There are little things I like to do - like read comics, listen to music, paint figures, and some other stupid shit like that... but I can't keep up." Beat. "Since I met Sigrun, I feel like I've got this... fucking wound that won't stop bleeding, right?"
The giant balls her fist, and cracks all of her knuckles at once in the palm of the opposite hand. Then she switches sides, and does it all again. She looks down at her hands. "We're patching things up - and I know that I'm going above and beyond in some cases - but I still cannot... shake the feeling that I am poison."
They look aside briefly, then exhale a long breath. "Strum... Do you ever just... let yourself cry?"
"Tried it once. Didn't like it. Would prefer to avoid it in the future if at all possible." A very blunt statement from a very blunt woman. She sets her jaw, and scowls at Lux.
They puff out a breath. "Yeah, I get it. It's fucking awful." They lean back into their chair. "I'm not happy and cheerful and bright all the time, you know. There's times that my cup empties out too. And... and I'm not saying the way I handle my feelings is healthy, but..." Their brows crease. "Maybe... your cup isn't refilling... because you keep a top on it. You think you're keeping things from getting out... but you're really keeping things from getting in. Sometimes... you got to just... let yourself bleed and cry and feel awful before things feel better."
"Maybe, yeah." Sturm looks away from Lux and fixes that poor little werebear with a death glare that could strip the paint from a battleship. She's silent, chewing on her bottom lip as she considers the words. When she looks back up at darling, her mask has cracked a little bit - rather than the forced scowl she usually wears, her face is just... scrunched up in frustration. "It's... stupid to feel this way, though - and I don't want to dedicate time to it."
It's a plea, more than anything else.
"It's... not stupid." Their head tips to the side. "It's painful and bitter and fucking sucks but it's also valid."
Their lips purse. "If I were you... I would be so angry and jealous and... hurting. It's honorable what you're doing. It's good what you're doing, by trying to make things right with Sigrun. I'm not saying you should stop doing that, but you can't just... pretend that you're okay. At least not... in private, to yourself. Make everyone else believe it's okay, but don't lie to yourself. You have to face that things are fucking shitty or it'll never change."
They push up to their feet and step around the table closer to her, eyes narrowing. "Sigrun was your enemy, wasn't she?" they challenge. "And now she's the reason you can't be with the person you care for. The person who makes you happy. You're putting this top on to save her and Teagan's feelings, aren't you? While you're the one left alone to deal with it." Their words are colder, meant to cut deep and bleed.
There's a sudden movement - the frost giant is so much faster than she has any right to be - and her chair falls backwards with a clatter as she stands. The tackle box is knocked to the ground and tools, paint pods, and little pieces of figurines fucking scatter in an explosion of sound. Sturm's knuckles are bruised and cracked - and it's very easy for Lux to see this, because she's balled her fists around the scruff of their hoodie, and hoisted them into the air by it as if they were no heavier than a rag-doll.
"It's not fucking like that," Sturm roars about an inch away from Lux's face - and they're so close that the giant's icy tusks are dangerously close to physically touching them. "I was a fucking monster," her chest rattles with an otherworldly growl as she enunciates the final word. "I don't even remember how many times I killed her there - or how many times she killed me - so what I want doesn't fucking matter if it hurts someone, and it doesn't matter how badly I want it if-" A shuddering breath cuts Sturm off mid-sentence - and a look of horror spreads across her face as she catches herself.
Lux, thankfully, had expected this. They'd deliberately baited her to react, after all. Their breath caught as they're grabbed and lifted, eyes widening a little as they stare into her's just inches apart. But there's no outward flinch, no visible trace of fear. Still, they stay very, very still, just hanging limply.
They're quiet as she roars, the glow of their eyes bright, shining a spotlight onto her feelings. The look of horror softens their guarded, tense expression, and their hands lift to cup her cheeks gently.
"Oh," they whisper softly. "You don't hate her. You hate yourself... Oh, Strum, you're not a monster."
Sturm's arms slacken just a tad, and she turns her head away from Lux's hand - trying to hid the twisted expression of frustration and guilt that is all-too-visible on her face. "... but I," her voice wobbles dangerously when she tries to speak - and so does Lux as another heaving breath rattles through her chest and shakes her entire body. She sets her jaw, a valiant - but absolutely too late - attempt to reset her facial expression and get her mask back. "I am, and I always was, and I don't even deserve to be here - let alone to have good things."
When she turns back to Lux, her brow is so deeply furrowed from trying not to cry that her eyes are practically closed - and it's very easy to see her dark blue blood beneath the thin, frigid surface of her icy skin as she flushes like this.
Lux frowns deeper, their brows knitting tightly. "You deserve to be here. And you deserve to feel good things." They don't try to pry out of her grip, but they do stretch out their arms to hug her tightly around the shoulders.
"I hate myself too," they murmur softly, their face hopefully hidden by now as they squeeze. "I did evil things. I hurt people. And sometimes I... still like hurting people. Because it feels... powerful, right? It feels better than being weak and feeling hurt. But that doesn't make you a monster. You're not what They made you, Strum."
"D-don't say that shit to me. Please don't say that." Her teeth are clenched tightly, and they audibly grind when she speaks. "Evil begets evil. This was a penance for wicked deeds, and a wicked life." She tugs Lux away from her body, and gently places them back onto their feet. "I might be an ugly, fucked up rock now - but I was always a bastard. It's what made me such a good villain."
She crosses her arms over her chest, and slumps her shoulders - suddenly very aware of exactly how big she is, and how small Lux is comparatively. "I'm sorry."
Lux lets her push them away, arms dropping. They frown up at her stubbornly, brows pinched together. "I'm not going to stop saying it. Because it's true. You're kind and protective and brave. You don't have to punish yourself. Haven't you felt enough pain?" Their hands rest over her crossed arms lightly. "You didn't do anything wrong. I was cold because I wanted you to stop hiding."
Sturm reaches up and rubs her eyes - which are now visibly glistening thanks to her failure to hold back tears - and then she pinches the bridge of her nose so hard that it seems like her icy skin might crack. "Hiding makes me feel safe. Like I'm not... dangerous to everyone else - and I did do wrong." She lowers her hand, and takes another shuddering breath. "I'm supposed to be better than losing my temper like this. I could've seriously hurt you."
"But you didn't," they insist. "I just..." The stubbornness fades into a more uncertain look. "I thought it would help. I'm sorry if I pushed too hard."
"Well. Probably wouldn't have said any of that shit if you hadn't, for what that's worth." Sturm's voice is barely a mumble, and she takes a knee to try and pick up her spilled belongings for what feels like the fifteenth time this week. "... and you were right. I am a little bit jealous. And hurt. Like. I understand why things are the way they are - and I do honestly support the decision - but that doesn't make it easier." Beat. "Limbo sucks. Especially because I have a hard time... expressing my own needs and feelings."
Lux steps over, kneeling down as well to help pick things up to hand to her and tuck into the tackle box. They glance sideways to her, then down, nodding. "I get that. There's a rational side, and an emotional side. I really do think you're doing the right thing. But... it's okay to be jealous and hurt." They pick up the werebear mini and offer it out. "What is it you need? At least... right now, if you're not sure what that means in general?"
"I'm not sure." Her brow furrows, and she takes the little figurine - and goes to tuck it back into the tackle box when she notices the Sigrun figure she'd nearly completed. Thankfully it wasn't one of the avalanche's casualties, and is still in-tact - if a bit scuffed up. "I've been pushing myself pretty hard lately. Trying to... be good. Be there. Give myself to... every fuckin' cause I run into. So. Probably some time to myself? Maybe get high and listen to some old records."
"That might be good." Lux bobs their head. "Getting high might be good. Maybe do something to vent some of your frustrations to chill better. See if you can... start to refill, at least a little." They smile softly. "And if you need anyone to talk to... you can let me know. Anytime. Okay?"
"Really appreciate that." Sturm nods as she finishes tucking the last of her supplies into the box - and then her mask is back in place. Y'know, save for the fact that her eyes are dark blue from the crying. "... and I'll check with the old crew next week, and see if they know anything about the, uhh. Gentrification shit." Beat. "Then I'll get back to you about that and we'll see what we can turn up."
"Okay." Lux smiles wider. "But take your time with it, okay? Take time to... relax, for a bit. I'll text you the list of addresses once we get out of here, so you have 'em." They consider Strum a moment, then stretches up onto their toes to bounce up and kiss her on the cheek. "I think you're great, Strum."
"Dunno about great." She reaches up and rubs the spot on her cheek, and that dark blue blush creeps back into her cheek. "I'm pretty okay, though."
They smirk playfully, head tipping to the side. "Ugh. Fine. I guess I'll accept pretty okay. For now." They step back, hands hooking together behind their head. "Let me know when I get my mini painting lesson. Looking forward to it."
"Yeah, uhh. I'll text you about it later." Sturm sets her paint box on the table before packing away the RPG books into her gym bag. "You have a good night, okay? Or. Morning. Or..." She looks out the window, finding no clues. "Fuckin' whatever stupid-ass time it is."
"You too, Strum. See you around." They pat-pat her arm, then head off towards the Hollow door.
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