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Sturm's place - formerly something that nobody ever spent any time in whatsoever - has been a hotspot of activity, lately. Between smoking with Glitch, Calamity picking up comics, Andy crash on the couch, Mearc helping her break in, and the half-a-dozen or so times that Teagan's been over - there've been more people in the old house in the past few months than there ever were when her folks were still alive.
She's chilling on the couch. The door is open. It's late as fuck, and there isn't even a pot of coffee on...
... and that's when Teagan is leaning against the doorframe again. They talked about dream stuff prior, and Teagan peaced out rather than make a scene with Johnnie in the middle of a public park, so now's the time to do stuff, right? Right. It is. A few seconds ago, Sturm was alone in the room. Now she's not.
"Hey, doll."
"Hey, T" she looks over the back of the couch - fixing teagan with a heavy-lidded, sleepy gaze. She swings her legs off the side of the cushion, and stands up to greet Teagan. "That fuckin' dog, right? Can't believe that fucker was almost harder to catch than Johnnie..." Better to call attention to that mistake than the one with the kissy faces, right?
"Speaking of," something flashes across her features for a moment. "You two get to chat after I left?"
They wrinkle up their nose. "Yeah, well, little dogs are wriggly. I'm not that surprised. It's like trying to catch a greased pig. Not that I've ever done that, but... " Teagan waves a hand absently. "No, we didn't. I didn't want to make a scene where there are humans, so. Maybe later." Their voice is a little distant in that last bit.
"Okay, that's fair." Sturm shrugs. "It's not my business, anyway. Just I've never seen you not greet her with a kiss, I don't think. So." She hooks a thumb over her shoulder. Towards the couch - which she starts heading towards. "Was worried about y'all." She waves a hand - just brushing that aside. Who worries about people? Not Sturm. Nope. "Anyway. What do we, uhh. Do? For this shit?"
They take in a deep breath and let it out slowly through their nose. "It's complicated," Teagan says, and that's all they have to say about that. It's complicated, and they don't want to really explain right now. There's a lot that Teagan just never wants to explain. They shuck off their coat and wrap it around Baby, unhooking the machete from their waist. "We have to go to sleep in contact with each other, and then you'll have to pull me through to your dream. You can do it, like, instinctively. All of us can."
Sturm just nods. "If you're good - or will be - then I'm good." Her response is simple. She gets it - and when she says it isn't her business, it isn't passive agressive. She respects privacy. She plops down onto the couch. "Oh, it's just... that easy, then? Guess I just managed to avoid it coming up - like all the other shit - because I haven't slept next to anyone in so damn long." One might expect a disparaging tone, but instead she just laughs quietly. "So. I just have to fall asleep, and then let you into my head." Beat. "Instinctively. No big deal."
"I will be. She said something really ... really stupid. We've been through a lot more, and a lot worse." And that's all that Teagan has to say about that for right now. They unlace their boots, kick them off, and sit down on the couch next to Sturm. "Yep. It really is no big deal. I promise." And then they turn their palm up toward her, spreading their fingers in offering.
She reaches over, taking the Mirrorskin's hand and gently interlacing her cool and calloused fingers with Teagan's. Sturm taps her fingers along the back of their hand - again, never squeezing any tighter than immediate skin contact. It's wild to think about the Sturm that's here, in this moment, compared to the Sturm that arrived here a couple months ago. She turns her head slightly, regarding Teagan with her peripheral vision - and flashing a small, almost-smile.
"Good thing we spent so much time chasing that fuckin' dog. Dunno if I'd be so damn sleepy otherwise."
"That's true," Teagan agrees. "Today's been a pretty tiring day." Their fingers curl around her hand, and then -- it is a scandal -- the Mirrorskin leans toward her, and rests their head on her shoulder. It's impossible to tell whether or not Teagan's eyes are open because ... they don't really have eyes... but their mirrored eyepits do look a little darker? Not that Sturm can see them right now.
She goes a bit rigid at the touch. Hand-holding is one thing, but this is... actually, it's pretty nice. The giant sinks into the couch - she's restless, but she does her best to ensure Teagan remains undisturbed. It takes her a bit, but eventually she's comfortable enough to lean her head against her friend's - and after a bit more, she's comfortable enough to close her eyes and begin to drift off.
Surprisingly, it doesn't take Sturm long to find sleep - nor for her to make the dream lucid - and soon Teagan finds themself pulled through the Gate of Ivory. The dreamscape is... rather boring, honestly. It looks a lot like the house where they fell asleep, but without all the wear and tear of years showing on the walls and furnature. Everything seems... brighter? Different? Like the scene had been shot with a filter that made the bright spots seem even brighter.
They're very used to sleeping in a pile of people, so sleeping when there's someone else to lean on? That's old hat for Teagan. They lend their calm to the situation -- or at least their pretended calm, because Teagan is good at lying. And soon enough, they sleep, because calm is one of those things that if you fake it well enough, it's indistinguishable from the real thing.
Pulled through the Gate of Ivory, Teagan looks exactly like the Teagan that Sturm sees just about every day, but idealized somehow. We all have a version of ourselves that we see when we look in the mirror. "Hunh," they offer, looking slowly around the room.
Oddly enough, Sturm also looks a lot like the Sturm that folx see in the waking world. Sure, there're a few small differences. Okay maybe not that small. Here, Sturm's maybe a few inches shorter - and Teagan'll probably find that they don't have to crane their neck quite as far to see the Jotunn's face - than she is in meatspace.
The front-facing window is open to the street - and even though it's a pretty warm day, there's a nice breeze blowing in and keeping the room a comfortable temperature. Furnature's the same. TV in the corner of the room's a helluva lot older. The scent of smoke wafts in though the open window, and the pair can hear two women - one older, and one younger - speaking in distant and muddled voices from the direction of the kitchen.
"Hey," she rolls her shoulders. They don't seem to take up near as much space here. "This is fuckin' weird."
They turn their head toward the front window, toward the breeze that plays across their face, and they run their hands over their hair. The heavy scars across their palms are still there in dreams -- they're a part of Teagan right down to the core, apparently. "What's so fucking weird about it? I'm guessing this is like -- how this used to be? In your memories?"
"In the good ones, yeah." It's a quiet, little omission - and then she runs a thumb along the scar in Teagan's palm before letting go of their hand, standing up from the couch, and padding her way over to the window. She looks... not relieved, necessarily, but satisfied when she turns her attention back to the room - resting on the window sill. "It's just fuckin' weird having another person here. Maybe you, specifically? Hard to explain."
The look aside that they give her is sympathetic. The touch to the scar on their hand makes Teagan's lower lip twitch just a little bit, but they turn it into a smile. "It's always weird when you're bringing people into your brain, no matter how you phrase it. And this is... you. This is your Bastion. You couldn't have shared this, like this, when you were just... a person. Now, it's... easier. But it also means you can change it, and other people can, too, and you have to, like, guard it and shit." A vague little shrug; Teagan's gestures are often little.
"What, you think it's weirder because it's me?"
The Jotunn pauses, and her brow furrows as she seems to recognize the oddity in her behavior there. "Hope that wasn't too familiar of me. I was just... surprised to see that it was still there. Sorry." She nods along as Teagan speaks, looking out the window again. "That all makes sense - and yeah, maybe." She shrugs, and whoever's on the porch smoking gets a fond smile when they begin to whistle. "Maybe not. Lots of bad parts to see when you look at me - this is a distinctly nice part. So maybe it's just weird because of that."
"I told you to bring me into your dreams. You brought me to home base. That makes perfect sense to me. Trust me, I've been in weirder dreams when teaching people how to do this shit," laughs Teagan, shaking their head in mild amusement. "Yeah, I ... think we've all got that, doll. I think we've all got parts that aren't so good, and parts that are much nicer. I think maybe you just don't wanna show people the nice parts because you don't deserve to have people think you're nice, but that's bullshit." And when there's someone whistling outside? Teagan takes a quick step back, but doesn't fade from view. It's as if they're trying to, but instead, the effort goes into reaching into the air and plucking out an old-style telescope, one more properly called a spyglass, perhaps.
"There," they nod. "It's really just like Hedgespinning, with some slightly different rules.
One of those familiar snort-laughs escapes Sturm's mouth before she can catch it. The kind of sound she often makes when feeling particularly *known. "Yeah. Well I think maybe fuck you, Teagan." Her response is quick, like a shot from a pistol. How dare you know and recognize her. Inside her own head where the walls are thin and the windows are open, no less.
... but Teagan has the right of it, and Sturm knows that Teagan knows. So rather than protest further, she focuses on the action - and the brand new telescope. She rolls her shoulders, properly stretching, and then... does the thing she knows how to do best in the whole damn world. She throws a punch at the space in front of her, turning her weight into the action... and when she stops, there's a pair of concert tickets clenched tightly in her closed fist.
"Sure wish I could do that in meatspace." Beat. "What'd you grab a... fuckin' pirate's eyeglass for?"
A snort. "Mmmm, not yet, Sturm," Teagan answers, and their broken-mirror eyes glitter. "Maybe in ya dreams, but not so literally, hmm?" They spin the spyglass in their hands. "That would undo all the good work that's gone into sorting shit out."
"Oh, it's just the first thing I thought of." A vague shrug in explanation. "I pulled one of these out of the sky in Sigrun's dream, so I could look at the Jotunn that was chasing after her." And then it's like something catches up with Teagan, and their mouth forms into an O. "... right. I said I was going to tell you." They puff out their cheeks, and then smile vaguely. "It can wait. That was hella good, by the way. What concert?"
"Think I'd probably have to pass on tryin' to screw inside my own head, anyway." She snorts again, arranging the tickets in her hand like they're a makeshift fan. Which she then fans herself with. "No offense."
She draws her lower lip into her mouth, and chews on it briefly. "Yeah, well. In meatspace when you punch someone like that, a couple of their teeth come out." Another shrug. "It's a lot more useful here. Especially if you're dirt poor, and want to see the Grateful Dead real goddamned bad. Dunno if these are for the day this Bastion is... modelled after?" Beat. "... but there weren't many of these, so it seemed like a pretty safe bet."
Sturm quirks a brow, and there's a hint of a smirk. "Anything that'd stop you from just tellin' me now? Can't you teach and chat at the same time?"
A vague shrug from Teagan, then. "I mean, it ain't all bad. If you ever wanted to know what the idealized version of you fucks like, that's the way to find out." They're barefoot in their dream because they went to sleep barefoot, and when they sit down on the couch, they pull their bare feet up and sit cross-legged, looking up at Sturm. Another one of those deep breaths in, and when they let it out this time, it's just 'pfffft'. Tired.
"I don't really know the Grateful Dead. But I guess we could probably ... sort of... make a dream concert. I've never tried."
A beat. "I mean nothing's stopping me, but -- " They pause, then. "Ehh. Fuck it. So. I told you I talked to Sig." They absently fiddle the spyglass in their hands. "She told me that -- it wasn't just like a moment of opportunity, the hole in the Thorns. Like... she ... stole a horn and blew on the horn and it put them all to sleep. Old One-Eye and all his bullshit friends."
"Not just her, though. She... had help. There were plans." And then Teagan clears their throat. "She had an accomplice."
Sturm doesn't seem too interested in the idea of knowing what her Idealized Self fucks like - and even though Teagan's gone back to the couch, she stays in the window. Basking in the sunlight, and enjoying the breeze. "I know a little bit, but mostly I just wanted to go 'cause my brother was such a Deadhead. He and a bunch of his friends had plans to go, but he had to pawn his off to a buddy at the last minute." She positively fuckin' lights up at the prospect of a literal dream concert, but the conversational turn towards Sigrun and the Thorns brings her back down to earth.
"Hmm? "She had an accomplice?" What do you mean?" She purses her lips. "Or... I'm guessing you think that was me? On accounta I threw the boulder?"
The concept of dream fucking sort of fades away as if it hadn't been. Teagan just sort of answers the questions and engages with the ideas in front of them right now. They lean their forearms on their knees, turning their face toward the window, and watching the figure standing in it, the way the light hits the Snowskin, the subtle differences between her now and her in the waking world. There's a lot to learn from how someone's body reshapes itself in their Bastion, after all.
The way her face lights up. Yeah, there's that, too.
"She thinks it was you," Teagan answers. "She knows it was you, I think, is a better way to put it. But she always thought it was another Valkyrie." They set down the spyglass on the coffee table. "So this is kind of like -- fucking with the narrative she thought she knew. It's a little like... "
"... we all have this idea of ourselves in our heads. Oh, I'm a hero. I'm a brilliant Valkyrie, I got free because I'm so clever, I'll light up everyone's lives. Or, like, whatever. And maybe it turns out that you're not ... a hero. Exactly the way you thought. Or an irredeemable villain or whatever. Maybe you left someone behind who helped you escape because you were so desperate to escape. And maybe you were the hero who made sure the escape went through."
"And it turns out you're just a person all full of flaws. Oh shit. Now you have to recalibrate." They pause. "Anyway, you can use dreams to like, learn about someone, too." Oh, right, let's just, like move on to teaching after saying all that.
Fun fact about the way that the sunlight hits Sturm. Where the most intense of the sun's rays kiss her skin is almost as reflective as if it were reflecting off of some asshole's cellphone screen - or perhaps a Mirror - and it illuminates everything beneath the crystalline surface that surrounds it. So her horns are nearly transparent - and her face is literally lighting up.
In stark contrast to that very beautiful image, the frost giant is twisted with frustration. There's a mixture of disbelief, and something else - something that's just kinda lurking beneath the surface... and then she just barrels on through Teagan's lesson. "I dunno. Just..." She sighs - it comes out like one of those tired pfffffts, too. "None of that matches up with what I... feel like I should be remembering. I don't know why I would've be so afraid, and frustrated, and fuckin' furious when we met if we were some ride-or-die motherfuckers over There." She sets her jaw. "I'm... really sorry that Sigrun is going through this, but I've fuckin' met her - and even when we were trying to kill eachanother, her instinct was to make sure neither of us got hurt, so I don't-"
She forcibly cuts herself off, and then turns to punch the air again - this time her hand comes away from the force of the blow with a huge fuckin' icecream sundae. Two goddamned cherries. Like a decadent motherfucker. It's always cheat day in your dreams.
"It's frustrating that I can't remember shit about fuck - and I'm frustrated that shit doesn't line up ..." She's much quieter now. "How it feels like it should. In my head."
They sit there, patient, listening. Teagan's really good at that. Mirrors sit and reflect, and Teagan sits and reflects on what Sturm says. Also stares, because holy shit. It takes a moment for them to truly focus in on what she's saying, because holy shit. Hnngh.
"Because she left you behind," the Mirrorskin says quietly. "When she ran, she ran without you. You were supposed to go together, but you didn't." That's all they put into the quiet. "She's not the hero of your story. She's the one who left you. At least, then, she was."
They tip their head forward. "But that's why I want to see what you remember, and -- help you pull your memories out, doll. I'm figuring it out from what she remembers, but there's more than two sides to every story."
The smoker outside the window clears his throat and spits out onto the sidewalk, and Sturm pauses mid sentence to look out the window - spoonful of ice cream still in her mouth.
"Don't like thinking about that," she says after a moment. Her voice is real quiet - almost like she's afraid that she'll disturb the ghosts of her memories during the peaceful moment if she talks too loudly. "This shit - someone like her leaving me behind." She shrugs. "I'm sure I must've done something to deserve it if that was what happened. It wouldn't even be the first time."
Sturm steps away from the window, and the light show ends as she comes padding back over towards the couch - and into the shade - before taking a seat next to Teagan. She offers the bowl. "Want a cherry?"
"Don't do that, Sturm," Teagan says from the couch, and their voice is very quiet, very gentle. "Don't say that sort of shit about my friend or I'd have to be really upset with you for being so mean to my friend. My friend Sturm is fucking awesome, and I care about her a lot, and she's not the villain of this story."
They rub their hands over their face. "It's real shitty when it turns out maybe neither one of you is the hero or the villain the way you thought, isn't it?"
"Yeah, I'll take your cherry." The worst part is, they don't even seem to be thinking about what they just said.
No surly response of "fuck you, Teagan" or a grumpy "give it back, you lost cherry privileges" or even a stern look. So. Seems like it went over Sturm's head, too. The Jotunn stares off towards the wall, or maybe the tiny-ass TV, and sighs so deeply that it seems to echo inside her chest. "Yeah, it's shitty." She pops the second cherry into her mouth. "... but in a way, it's been... almost comforting? To know that I couldn't go any lower than the bedrock of morality?"
She scrunches up her face. "It's a stupid thing to sit here and bitch about when I say it out loud." Beat. "... and sorry for talkin' shit about your friend, I guess."
"Of course, then that bitch offered me a cherry and ate it herself," Teagan sighs in the over-dramatic way that they get sometimes, slowly collapsing sideways onto the dream couch as though they're a Victorian lady taking to their fainting couch. They even drape one arm over their face. It looks kind of silly because their legs are still folded, but that's probably part of the point.
"You're incorrigible - and there's two fuckin' cherries, Teagan." Sturm offers one of those little snort-laughs again. "You think a bitch with guns like mine is only gonna punch a fuckin' One-Cherry Sundae out of the air? Who do you think I am, uhh..." She blanks for a moment. Who in this Freehold doesn't punch shit? "Shit. Uhh. Jack...? Well, absolutely not. There was gonna be two cherries on this motherfucker even if I wasn't sharing one with a friend."
She scoops the hidden second cherry out from under some ice cream, and then holds out the spoon to Teagan.
Snort. "That's your five dollar vocabulary word, and you're going to get all of the mileage out of it you can," the Mirrorskin shoots back, before untangling themself from their ridiculous posture. They snicker at the idea that Sturm's arms have something to do with the quality of sundae being punched out of the air, and then close the distance between themself and the Snowskin, moving near-silently on bare feet.
Is it gay to hold out a spoon with a cherry on it for your friend to eat? Well if it wasn't before, it certainly is now. Teagan leans upward a little, and parts their lips to take the spoon in their mouth.
You know what's really weird about dreams? The moments when some things seem to happen in extreme slow motion. Is that the dream? Is that just Sturm? Is Teagan doing that? (yes) Because it's way easier to extend the near-pornographic 'oh no there's a drip of ice cream on the bottom of the spoon, I'd better lick that up before I take the cherry' that's happening here than it is to talk about Feelings and Past Trauma.
Teagan's tongue is black. Sturm knows that fact very well now. Even the lip-licking is in slow motion, right up until Teagan grabs hold of the cherry stem while leaning back and tugs on it, cheekily. "Thanks, doll." She's seen that grin before, too. Last time, it was covered in blood.
"Yeah, well I know some other words, I just like that one because it's really good for describing... Uhh." Sturm's brow furrows - and she sets her jaw. There're some things Sturm just can't handle pretending aren't happening - even with Winter's help. Let's count the tells!
Her frown wobbles a bit at the corners of her mouth - like it would rather be open at this moment. One tell! Her eyes go wide for just a split second before the mask slides into place. Two tells! Her nostrils flare - and they almost always do when she's trying not to yell. Three tells! Worst of all - at least for Sturm - her frown can't hide that damning navy blue blush that always seems to push itself to the surface of her frozen skin when she's embarrassed. Most people might not notice it - on account of it starting in her ears - but Teagan knows better. Teagan is a gremlin. That's four tells!
There's a lengthy stream of air as the Jotun exhales through her nose. Like a fuckin' cartoon bull. She crosses her arms over her chest - standing feet shoulder width apart. "... You. You are not fair."
There are some things that Teagan is very good at, and faux innocence is one of them. The slow grin that percolates up across their face comes with a halo on top as sure as Sturm's punched-into-reality sundae, and they chew that dream cherry and swallow it before starting to absently chew on the end of the stem, a puckish little gesture.
They'd flutter their eyelids if they could, but they can't, so they just smile that perfect little innocent smile at Sturm. "Y'ain't moping anymore, though, are you?" the Mirrorskin fires back.
"Besides, I never said I was fair."
"Swear, I can't fuckin' stand you." It's the least believable thing that's ever come out of Sturm's fuckin' mouth, honestly. She reaches over - and for a very short moment it seems like she might ruffle Teagan's hair, but instead, the giant grabs their halo out of the air... before tossing it out the open window as if it were a frisbee.
"It's not fair, because that was fuckin' nuclear and you know it." She cackles - there's that boisterous, shining laugh of hers. Teagan's probably only heard it once... but no. She isn't moping, but it's not like Sturm's likely to say that outside of her head. "The threat of Mutually Assured Destruction is supposed to keep people from doing shit like that..."
They laugh aloud at that, the brilliant, bright, light-on-broken-glass laugh that's Teagan's when they're not trying to hide their laughter. "That is the opposite of the truth, and you fucking know it," The Mirrorskin answers, and when she reaches out to steal their halo, they whine: "Noooo!" like they're in an episode of Letterkenny. "That was mine," and the pout is nuclear, too, lower lip jutted out, hands on hips.
That laugh is payment enough, is exactly what they wanted, and Teagan grins, a flash of silver splashing across their face when Sturm laughs that way. "I mean it's supposed to but... sometimes extreme measures must be taken."
"I agree. Sometimes extreme measures must be taken."
... and then to emphasize her point, Sturm adopts a front double bicep pose, and flexes both of her tree-trunk arms. The muscles bulge obscenely - and the sleeves of the t-shirt she's wearing can only contain them for so long before they begin to split open at the seams, hanging onto Jotunn's powerful arms in for deal life with the ragged scraps that remain. She crosses her arms grabbing onto the scraps and tearing them off. Y'know, to put them out of their misery - and this time, when she assumes an Adonis pose, with her powerful back and shoulder muscles visible even through the t-shirt... wait, what? Her biceps are literally glistening... because this bitch literally flexed the body oil into existence. Just to accentuate her already incredible form.
She looks back over her shoulder - and aims a crooked smile at Teagan that would make Han Solo blush. The best part? Who is going to believe Sturm did this? Like really...
By this point, Sturm knows all Teagan's tells, and here they are, in rapid succession: the twitch at the corners of their mouth when they suppress their smile, the subtle shift in their posture because they expect an autonomic response that doesn't happen in dreams, but they shift their posture anyway, the crinkle at the corners of their eyes, the sleek shimmering of their mirrored skin, and their face going briefly silver.
" ... fuck you." Yeah, they know the inevitable response, but sometimes that's all your brain has got.
It takes every ounce of Sturm's considerable fortitude not to immediately laugh at the Mirrorskin's response. Instead, she takes the high road - deciding to take a victory lap. She lets her pose go lax, crossing her (still ripped and glistening) arms over her chest before turning slowly to face Teagan.
Her jaw is set again - she looks fierce - and the usual frown is securely in place now that she's seen who has the upper hand... and then Sturm winks.
"Not yet, T."
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