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Up north of Quakertown is Lake Nockamixon State Park. A long ribbon of lake formed by a flood control dam. Deep, narrow, and dangerous to swim in due to submerged logs and detritus. But absolutely gonzo for lake fishing as a result of the same. Sigrun is seated out at the end of the dock, the simple camping cabin about fifty yards from shore on mossy ground. She's wearing a pair of board shorts and a white bikini top, soaking in the sun as she fishes for panfish close to shore. There's an old radio beside her playing the college radio station, a six pack of beer half-way consumed, and a tacklebox open at her side. If you've got to be stuck away from home, at least you can do some fishing, one supposes.
The purr of Jack's bike announces his presence a little bit before the man himself appears. He's in cut offs that hit a couple inches above his knees, and a loose green tank, a thin sweatshirt tied around his waist and his matte black helmet under his arm.
"'S a nice spot," he muses out loud when he's close enough that she'll hear him. Announcing his presence in a non-threatening way, though the scent of an oncoming rainstorm, clearly out of sync with the clear sky, might have announced it before he spoke.
"Yeah. With Enyo and me on the outs, I figured I'd be best to find a spot a little ways out of town. Plus, it's made a welcome getaway for Sturm and me. We're catching up on fishing and on each other. It's been good." Sigrun lifts up her beer and moves it over by the radio and tackle box, making room for Jack on the end of the dock. "Care for a beer?" Sigrun dangles the stringer for a moment before setting it down. "There's grub inside, too, if you're hungry. If you want something hot, I can whip something together pretty quick." She begins reeling in her cast to try a different spot. No bites.
Jack eyes the beer, and sighs quietly. "Sturm'll kill me 'f I have a beer," he says with a small chuckle. "I'm...tryin' out being sober. But thanks. I'd take something to eat, though. Doesn't need to be hot." He stretches, looking out over the lake. "Good to hear that you'n Sturm are getting along - don't know all of it but there was a little bit'a...tension, yeah?"
"Oh, fuck," Sigrun mutters to herself, smacking her forehead with the heel of her hand. "I knew that, too. I'm sorry, Jack." She keeps the beers where they're at for the moment, then carefully draws her rod back along her left side to keep from whacking Jack with the rod and casts back out into the water about 45 degrees off where she'd cast before. She starts jigging lazily.
"Yep. There was. We shared a durance. Probably killed each other a hundred times. But it turns out we escaped together. We found an icon belonging to each of us, too. Which helped put a lot of things into proper perspective." Sigrun grins a little lopsidedly at that.
"Then there was a whole different tension, but we've worked that out, too." She gives Jack a wink at that and returns her attention to the water. "I'll go back to the cabin and whip something up for you after this cast. And you can tell me what you want to achieve up here."
"'S all good. Pretty new thing, not even long enough to feel like it's worth keeping track of the days..." Jack shrugs and watches as she fishes.
"Fuck, that's rough, glad you two could figure all that shit out. 'Specially given...that other tension." Her wink gets a flash of a grin. "Haven't had to directly deal with that sort'a durance shit, myself. Helps that I can't remember...most of it. Flashes, feelings. Y'know?"
"It gets worse the more powerful you get. I learned a hard lesson from all of this. Trust your gut, but not your memory. Our trauma from over there is hardwired into us. It's what I was responding to in Sturm. What was done to me over there. Being forced to fight the Jotunnar for my life over and over again. How could one escape top that incessant drumbeat of horror, you know?" As Sigrun is about to say more, her rod bends down towards the water and she gives it a snap back towards the sky to set the hook. "Ooh! Got one!"
Whatever it is has some fight to it, but not so much that after about a minute and a half of pulling and counter-reeling, she pulls out a rather sizeable large mouth bass.
"You're in luck, Jack. You're getting pan fried bass to eat!" She hooks a thumb into the creature's jaw, unhooks her lure, and hoists up the beer and rod in her free hand. "Can you grab the radio and tacklebox, Jack?" She hops to her feet and begins walking the unfortunate and still flailing fish up towards the cabin.
"Oh hell yeah." Jack grins, impressed, and grabs the radio and the tacklebox before following Sigrun up to the cabin. "Yeah, I've...other folx I know have had to deal with the trauma that comes back as they get more Wyrd. I may be avoiding it, myself, I've always been more plugged into mortal life anyway..."
"Not me," Sigrun admits with a small shake of the head. "Everything I loved about my old life was gone when I got back. Had to make a new identity for myself. Took the opposite tack." She gestures to herself in indication. "We all cope in our own way, I suppose."
The cabin is small. Cozy would be a polite term for it. There's a central room with a fire place, a couch that's been stripped of its cushions, and a pile of bedding tossed in front of it atop the mattresses from one of the bedrooms. Directly off of it is the kitchenette. There's a hallway that contains the bathroom and three bedrooms. One with bunkbeds, two with queen sized mattresses. It's not much, but it suits.
She just heads to the kitchen to grab a good sharp carving knife and promptly smacks the dull end on the fish's forehead in a matter that reads as brutal but quite efficiently renders the fish insensate to what follows.
That being its prompt gutting and filleting. She descales it, but leaves the skin on the fillets Big and juicy. Then she throws some butter in a skillet and sets it on the stove to begin heating up.
"Batter fried or just butter for you, Jack? And what's your agenda for your visit up here? With Enyo, I mean."
Jack leans against the kitchen counter a few feet away, watching Sigrun with interest. "I'll take batter fried, 'f it's not too much trouble. Fuck, I haven't had fresh caught fish in years, went fishing a few times with my dad when I was a kid but I always got bored..." He huffs in amusement, and then shakes his head.
"Got nothing to do with Enyo, I'm off to Baltimore tomorrow to try to convince Sulochana to stand down. Or at least give us more time to heal the tree, and fortify for the ultimate attack. They're proud, and impatient, and they already agreed to stall for up to a month." Another head shake. "'S gonna be a fuckin' tough sell."
"Oh, that's right. Sorry. I have that cat on my mind right now. Enyo's got everyone chasing their tails because they'd rather wage a war than ask a question. It's the worst part of our court on display. Probably part of why I'm so key on stopping them." Sigrun doesn't remark on the preference for batter frying. She just gets out the breading box, shakes some out onto the bread board, and then daubs the fillets in the hot butter, once on each side, and then repeats that dipping into the breading. They're tossed into pan to sear with a satisfying crackle of fat and grease.
"I grew up on a farm. In Farmington. Minnesota. You've never lived until you've been elbows deep in a cow's vagina." Lovely image. "When I got out and everything I took for granted was taken from me, I decided I'd learn how to live on my own. Self-reliance. Do it all myself. Hunting, fishing, cooking, weaving, sewing, all of it." She glances aside at Jack as she shakes the skillet a bit, "Nobody can ever take away my sense of security again. I'll always land on my feet. I'll always rebuild. As long as I've got two hands and my wits, anyway."
"Makes a lotta sense." Jack nods. "I think History's Cradle wants to safe face, doesn't wanna be seen as weak. Which I get. But they're just gonna look like assholes, if they don't let us try. Hopefully they'll see reason." He half closes his eyes, smiling contentedly when the fish sizzles in the pan. "I grew up a couple miles outside'a Philly. Close to farmland, but not on a farm. I...definitely don't have that kinda self-reliance. Though I guess I could build a house, if I had to."
"Posturing. Preening. The ego of it all. Waging war over appearances. Ridiculous." Sigrun shakes her head as she flips the filets over to sear the other side. "Fate may be able to find an alternative for you to present them, if that's your aim. Or I can simply fate you to have your counsel understood and accepted. It's not a surefire thing, but it can help. Who else is going with you? I can do this a few times for you all to maybe help cover different angles. But if it's just you, we should try to keep things a bit general."
"No one's reached out - can't imagine why people don't wanna go try and negotiate the end to a war with a freehold who's pretty set on it..." Jack grimaces. "I just want 'em to listen, and understand what's at stake if they don't focus on their own fortifications. Y'know?"
"No one?" Sigurn is as appalled by that as by more or less this entire situation. She actually has to lean onto the stove for a few seconds to keep her temper in check. That fish gets plated in the most passive-aggressive Minnesotan manner possible. That's fine, entire freehold. We'll serve fish and also stop a war. Sure. Fine. Whatever.
Sigrun takes a moment to rub her brow with the back of her wrist and mutters through clenched teeth, "I'll go. I'll help you. Someone has to have your back."
The plates are set down on the table, and forks are set out as well. "I've got some cokes in the fridge if you'd like? Not sure what you're drinking these days. The water here is okay, but if you're not used to well water, you might not be a fan."
"Well - you. You reached out. Was a pretty quick note, I might'a left something out?" Jack shrugs. "Or maybe folx just haven't seen it, there's a lotta information out right now. But yeah, as of now it's gonna be just me. You...I mean you gotta deal with all this shit here, don't you?" He does sound hopeful, though, if unable to entirely accept her help right away.
"I'll take coke, sure, I'm definitely used to city water. Not that I like it, but...you know. What I'm used to?"
"If I don't do every possible thing I can do to prevent this war, Jack, and if it actually happens? I'll be in a coma inside of a week. I don't have a choice." Sigrun rubs at her forehead for a few moments, then rises from her seat to head to the fridge and fetches a pair of cokes for the both of them. She sets his down, then her own, and reclaims her seat. Her mood has soured, clearly.
"I know everyone is stretched thin. I know that. I know everyone is working hard. I do. I just can't be everywhere at once. I was hanging my hat on your trip having better people than me. And that I should stay out of it, because I might be a problem. But if you're going alone, I have to go." She rubs at her face for a moment or two then suggests, "If you would be willing to help out up here for a day-- put in the work that I do in a day, which is a lot --then it'll buy me the time to go with you. And won't slow down things up here any." There's a pleading in her eyes that she doesn't let into her voice. Too proud for that.
"Sigrun you - you don't have to be everywhere at once. I'd happily take your help, but I don't want you to fuckin' kill yourself over it. I...I plan to go tomorrow, probably stay over night again. If you wanna come along, I'll do some work up here. But this is me telling you that you don't have to. I dunno 'f the Wyrd cares, but..." Jack sighs. "I see you doing so fucking much to help. And it's shitty that it prob'ly doesn't matter."
"Have you ever been in a war, Jack?" Sigrun doesn't presume, and the question is not asked in a mean-spirited manner. Tired, yes, but not cruel. She forks off some of her fish and takes a bite, watching Jack for his answer.
"Yep." Jack's voice is quiet. "That bit I do remember." He takes a swig of his coke with a grimace and a sigh. Like it's not what he really wants to be drinking for a conversation like this.
"I...god I wanna do whatever I fucking can to keep it away from Shackamaxon."
She nods her head, accepting the answer for what it is. She just meets his eyes for a long silent moment, then reaches across the table to grasp his hand. Over the top of his, even, if he's not willing to surrender his fork for that purpose. Her eyes retain that pleading look, though there's also a good deal of resignation to it.
"I do, too. Peace for my people. Good land to grow good food. Good cattle to graze. A long afternoon watching the cows come in. A dark night. And peaceful sleep. That is all any righteous warrior wishes for. Peace. Because we know what war is. And that it never stops with those holding the swords."
"I am not afraid to fight. I am afraid they will get past me to everything I care about. That they will burn my dream to the ground before it ever starts. Please don't ask me to stop. I know what happens if we do."
Jack does let his fork go, and lowers his gaze after that long moment. "...Understood. I - fuck, I am afraid to fight. Always have been. But...I'd do it. 'F it'd keep us safe a little longer." He lets out a long breath. "Here's hoping fate's on our side. And the Wyrd, too."
"I won't ask why you put down the sword." Probably because she doesn't need to. "You can leave the fighting to Summer, if it comes to it. Though if you'd like to brush up on your skills, I am happy to help you remember your talents." She gives his hands a squeeze at this. "I will go with you. I have a frankness that doesn't help with deceitful diplomacy. But so long as we go in with an honest and earnest goal, I can be rather persuasive. I will help you however I can. I will watch your back and keep you safe. And I will bring you home safely to Lux and Mearcstapa. And we may just win the peace, who knows. We must have hope." She leans over the table, then, and plants a kiss on his cheek before settling back into her chair again to resume her meal.
"How are they, by the way?"
There's a very surprised blink, at the kiss, and Jack's face blooms with a warm smile at the mention of his partners. "Busy. Mearcstapa's been dealing with...memories of Over There. And Lux has been working on...something, they've been pretty secretive lately..." It doesn't seem to be a thing that bothers him. "And - we've found a place to move in together. Talkin' about forming a motley when shit quiets down. If it ever quiets down." Jack shakes his head. "House's a fuckin mess, but it's a project. Nice to have something to do with my hands."
"We remodeled our basement when Sturm moved in. Put in some bedrooms, finished off the laundry room, added another bathroom. Won't really do much on a baseline appraisal, but it will help with comps. Satisfying work, nesting." Sigrun doesn't remark on the surprised blink, leaving the smooch for what it was. She finishes up her fish, then excuses herself from the table into the bedroom for a moment, returning with a sewing needle. "If you don't mind, Jack, I'll need to draw a tiny bit of blood for this. It's really expensive otherwise." She settles back down in her seat and crosses her legs up, preparing to get to work on why he's actually here. "And do let me know if I can be of any help with Mearcstapa's struggles. I just went through something like that myself, and I know how hard it can be. Plus, I kinda like the guy," she admits with a crooked smile.
"Managed to find a place with six bedrooms, figured we'd look for something too big, and if our motley gets bigger we won't have to keep uprooting. We got it for a song, and we're basically gutting it - hired some people to deal with the plumbing, 's one thing I'll always leave to a professional, but otherwise we're picking away at it ourselves."
His mien flickers slightly, when Sigrun mentions drawing blood, but he nods and holds his hand out, a finger outstretched towards her. "Yeah, Mearcstapa's pretty okay," he says with a grin. "Kinda like him, too."
"He's alright," Sigrun concurs with a wink, reaching out with the needle to take a rather practiced and mostly painless prick of his fingertip. There's a little squeeze until the blood is sufficiently showing, and then Sigrun just keeps on holding his hand. Her eyes close, and her mantle flares with dry heat, which is sort of a blessing in the humid Philadelphia summer. "This takes a while, so. Please be patient."
In contrast to Jack's scribbly, charcoal-sketch form, his blood is...red. Photorealistic, slightly-too-real-looking red. He looks away as Sigrun pricks his finger, and then sits quietly, looking out the window, until she's finished working.
Picking up on the issue, Sigrun bites her lower lip briefly and reaches out with a table napkin to daub the bead of blood away. She carefully closes his hand back up and gives it another quick squeeze and a pat. "All done, Jack. The Norns are on your shoulders now. Freyja is watching over you." She settles back into her seat once more, tilting her head a bit as she continues observing him. "You're welcome to stay, if you'd like. Or I can see you back out again. I can open a door to our Hollow, if you like. There's a door there to the hedge near the freehold. It might save you some travel time."
Jack nods his thanks as Sigrun wipes the blood away, and takes his hand back. "I hope I'll do her proud. I drove here, doubt my bike would like that trip through the Thorns..." A huff of amusement, and he shrugs. "I can come back tomorrow morning, get some work done before we head to Baltimore, or I can save that workday for later. Either works for me." He drains the last of his soda and stands, and offers to take her plate to the sink to clean.
She offers the plate up to him with a small smile of gratitude. It's nice not having to clean up after you cook. Even if it's just pan frying a fish. "Thanks, Jack." She watches him off for a moment, then lifts her coke for another sip, resuming her recline in her seat. "Why don't I let Sturm know we can bed down in Philly tonight. We can leave from there, cut an hour off our drive, and when I get back home the door will open right back here again, so I can be back on the double-quick. Just promise me you'll come help me catch up on the work I'm leaving undone tomorrow. Please."
"Promise." He turns to look at her, nodding, and wipes his wet and soapy hand on his pants before holding it out for a shake. "Seal me on it, 'f you want, I'm good for it."
"If I had to seal you," goes Sigrun's logic, "then you wouldn't be good for it. I admire you enough to imagine my opinion of you matters. You'll keep your promise." Sigrun rises back up to her feet, finishes off her coke, and sets it on the counter for recycling. "What time should I be looking for you tomorrow?"
"Set up the meeting for 8ish. PM, I don't fuck around with mornings," Jack says with a chuckle as he finishes the dishes. "Got a hotel room just in case, depending on how late it goes. Planned on riding my bike down, but it's not really built for two...but we'll figure something out." There's a few moments of silence, as he dries his hands.
"Sigrun - thanks. You..." he trails off, failing to find the words. "All this shit means a lot. Seriously. Catch you tomorrow."
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