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It's been a while since Teagan has been out and about: to find them, one has to either be excessively lucky in their times at the Summer Hollow, or extremely lucky in their moments on patrol, or come to the Direct Action house. He's been spending a lot of time at home recently, for various and sundry Reasons, and today is a housework sort of day.
Housework for Teagan means that a delivery of wood arrived for the woodstove, and it's time to get it all stacked up. Normally these come during the summer, and they take care of it then, but they're running low, so now there's a huge pile of random logs in the driveway, each one about a foot or so long, and there's a neat woodpile -- a thin stack about eight feet long between two trees, with a blue tarp that goes over it. The tarp has been pulled back, and Teagan is currently dragging logs over to a stump two and three at a time, then splitting them, making a small pile of the split logs, and transporting that small pile over and stacking it. Their long leather trenchcoat hangs up off of a branch of one of the trees which bookend the woodpile, and they're wearing a tank top, jeans, and boots. There's a machete hanging from their left hip, and Sigknifr -- his dagger -- hanging from his right. A wire bracelet wraps around his tattooed left wrist with a chunk of stone set in it, and a silver rectangular necklace on a thong bounces against his chest as he swings the axe down again, cleaving yet another log in two.
Ylva had tried the Hedge side places while she was stuck there. Now she was heading to DA house. It felt weird to be out and about after a month but she was trying.
Catching up on things that she felt like she needed to. She was wearing long leggings, bitch stomping boots and her leather jacket. Almost business by Ylva standards.
She approached the house hearing the splitting of Wood, and heading around that way. Approaching but not getting to close to the Teagan that is swinging an axe. But making her presence known.
"Hey." A wave with a few tails, her hands carrying a platter of food.
Thunk. The log splits with a satisfying crack, and Teagan pushes one split piece off into the small pile he's made of quartered logs. He sets the other half log back down on the stump, and he swings the axe again. "Hey," the Mirrorskin answers; their Summer Mantle crackles heat and radio static out across the snowy ground. Sweat steams up off of him, and he doesn't stop working. "Sigrun's spending time with June," he offers, "but I can tell her you came by."
Sturm is, as she often is, easy to overlook unless you know she's there. Which is good. That's a very helpful quality for a 9ft tall ogre who fancies herself a Winter Court spy from time to time. This evening, she's leaning up against the outer wall of the house nearest the door, watching Teagan split firewood, watching Teagan's muscles flex as he swings the axe, watching the sweat dripping down his mirrored-- well of course that's what a pervert would be paying attention to.
Sturm has one scarred-up fist shoved into the pocket of her leather jacket, and the other is holding a warm cup of coffee that conveniently hides her expression. Which is good. It's a type of armor in it's own way. She pauses to nod at Ylva, but says nothing otherwise. (edited)
There is hesitation as Teagan speaks.
"I, uh. Actually. Came looking for you."
A long pause as she finally notices Sturm. Giving them a wave with a couple other tails. But not yet speaking.
He picks up the other half-log, sets it on the stump, and swings the axe again. THUMP. Teagan grunts, having finished up the load he brought over from the giant pile, and swings the axe into the stump, leaving it planted into the stump for the time being. There's a pause when Ylva speaks, and Teagan -- bending down now to pile up the quartered logs in his arm -- turns to look up at the kitsune. "Oh?" he asks, the question a low rumble of sound.
Turning his back to Ylva for a moment, he walks to the pile and starts adding the prepared firewood to the log pile. "Well. You found me." His face turns briefly towards Sturm, and he gives her a lopsided half-smile. "Doll."
"Tea," is offered by way of acknowledgement. It echoes in her ridiculous coffee mug mask, but Teagan knows by now that even that's a giveaway of it's own. Sturm finally lowers her cup, revealing a thin half-smirk that's only barely visible to the untrained Sturm-knower.
"... and me," she nods. "... but I can go in if you'd like the privacy. 'bout time for a refill anyway."
"Hi."
She looks awkward as shit.
"I just wanted to know where we stood. Our interactions have been varied. And. Ya know. I just."
She looks down. "I made Kebabs."
The Mirrorskin stacks up the logs, then makes another trip back to the big pile. He loads up his arms, carries the logs back to the stump. This is one of those lather-rinse-repeat sort of things, though he does very coincidentally end up turned just so as to give his best side to Sturm, the best view when he picks the axe back up and swings it again. "Where do you think we should stand?" Teagan asks, after another log gets halved and quartered.
"Nah, you should stay, Sturm," he offers, without looking up. It's hard to tell where he's looking, anyway, with those eyes that... aren't. "Kebabs are good. Thanks."
Sturm offers a nod, and resumes her leaning up against the wall. She's listening, probably, but it's obvious that her focus has drifted elsewhere as Teagan returns to work.
"I could fuck up a kebab," she says off-handedly from behind the rim of her mug.
Ylva puts the plate somewhere that they can all access it before taking a kebab of her own. They are still warm.
"Me not being afraid of you and you not hating me would be a good start."
She shrugs. "Thats where my brain is right now, so im here."
Now that makes Teagan stop. He splits another chunk of wood and then turns his head to look at Ylva. "I don't hate you." The split wood gets pushed aside, and he keeps at his work. If he'll eat, it's once he feels like he has gotten through enough of his work to stop working. Another log, first in halves, then in quarters. And then another, and another. "Why are you afraid of me?"
Sturm paces over to the plate of Kebabs, and then resumes her lazy lean up against the wall. There's a hint of a smirk as she tilts her head.
"... besides the fact that you are pretty intimidating?"
Ylva tilts her head.
"Well, thats a good start."
Then she eventually continues.
"Um, well. All our interactions have always been pretty brief and fleeting and surface level and its hard to tell if you were just stressed or annoyed at me, plus last time I was here checking on V you did summon you Machete in her room and I was pretty on edge myself."
He pauses to look aside at Sturm, and Teagan thinks about that for a moment before responding, essentially, with ObamaNotBad.gif. A considering frown, a little nod of his head. "Well, there is that," Teagan agrees, and then he thunks the axe back into the stump and steps aside to grab a bite of Sturm's kebab. Literally, he just leans up and bites off of Sturm's before patting the Snowskin's ass and returning to splitting wood.
"I always have Baby with me." And, indeed, so he does. "And I am not a readable person. Most people who aren't Lost simply cannot read me at all. That's on purpose. It's not about you." Thunk. The axe splits the wood. Teagan switches the wood out on the stump. Thunk. Their mirror-dark skin shimmers with the movement. "Unless you fuck with my family or the freehold, you have no reason to be afraid of me."
"Yeah," Sturm tips her kebab down again, offering more to Teagan. She's tall now. Like a big mountain. There's a bit of pause, and she reaches up to adjust her neckline-- or, rather, a little pendant hanging from a choker. She brushes her blue thumb across the blue face of the gem absent-mindedly.
"That's true. Its my job to read body language, and to know people well enough to understand what they're doing, and I had to dedicate a period of about three months to figuring out Teagan."
"Okay. I'm bad at reading people so. Sorry."
She chews at her Kebab. Trying to smile.
"Thanks. I tend to take things personally. So. I appreciate your frankness."
He pauses, walks over to grab another bite, swats Sturm on the backside, and then returns to his work. "Mmm," Teagan replies mildly.
"Here's the thing, Ylva." Thunk. He swings the axe. "You're a perfectly neutral fact to me right now, outside of the effect you have on my family and my Freehold. One of those things seems like it just got resolved, and one of those things... you can't really affect in any way that's going to be a real problem." Thunk. He splits wood over and over, almost a meditative thing. "So honestly, it really doesn't matter all that much what I think of you in that sense. If my wife wants to be your mommy-dom, then sure. Doesn't matter to me and will never change who she is to me."
He sets another log up on the stump. "Same with Johnnie. I know things about her that you never will, and she'll always be ours. You can't change that, you can't threaten that. Not that you want to? But you can't." Over and over, he splits log after log, and then he stops for a minute, turning towards the once-Gristlegrinder and spreading his scarred hands out on either side of his body. "I know who I am, I know who they are, I know what we are to each other. Hating you would mean I'm threatened by you in some way, that I thought you could hurt or break my marriage, my motley."
"This house is built on rock so old that when it was a mountain, once upon a time, all the land on Earth was one continent." Their muscular shoulders roll in one fluid gesture, one perfectly lazy shrug. "Even the bedrock under my feet that's older than bones and trees is brittle compared to what Sigrún Shadow-wife is to me."
He rolls his head on his neck; his opalescent black skin shimmers and his vertebrae pop and crack. "So I guess the only question is: what do you want me to think of you?"
"Oof," Sturm says the word, rather than actually grunting. Honestly? From looking at her, this broad is so tough, and covered in scars that you aren't even sure there's a thing of this earth that could make her grunt unless she wanted to. "Its sure not personal, I promise you. We're just grouchy, and we appear even grouchier than we are. Still," she crams a bite of food into her mouth. "That might've been a bit brutal to just say all in one go."
She takes a deep breath, and holds her arms wide.
"Wait. Shit. I didn't know we had Mommy-Dom here on tap."
Yep, these are the jokes folks. (edited)
Ylva grimaces as Teagan speaks. A slight wince at each axe swing.
"Im not. Here to try and effect your motley, your family. Hyena and V and Sigrun have always been clear that you will come first."
There is a slight blush to her face that she tries to talk through then a chuckle at Sturms comment.
"I. I would like you to think of me as a person. Not as Sigruns play thing, not as the person interested in Hyena or the fox chasing after V even if that was a little unhealthy for a while."
She tries her best to make her words be firm without trying to intimidate Teagan. That isn't her goal but she is what she is. The smell of Autumn leaves passing on the wind as she gets emotional. The smell of a campfire and smores. (edited)
The Mirrorskin pauses for a minute, and turns his mirror-smooth, completely blank expression towards Ylva. "Do you think that is not the case?" Teagan asks.
Sturm lifts a brow, following Teagan's gaze to Ylva.
"I dont know what is the case. Its why im here and this isnt exactly helping."
She flops back onto the ground eating her Kebab.
"You say im neutral to you yet you have lots of information about my life."
The look on Teagan's face is still inscrutable. "Okay," he responds in that same even tone.
"... yeah," he replies, turning back to his work. "Have you ever read my job description?"
Sturm clears her throat, and pushes off the wall. "Ylva, I hate to say this but your life hasn't exactly been private this past while. My job as Sun Banisher -- and Teagan's job as Unseen Sun -- tend to mean that we invest... an amount of energy into knowing things. Especially things that are potentially going to pose a problem for the Freehold somewhere on down the line." She lifts a hand. "... and I know you aren't doing that anymore. You've done a great job so far, but it doesn't change the fact that it did happen, and it was important to know things about you for reasons that have nothing to do with hating you."
She shoves both of her big fists into the front pockets of her jeans. "... Teagan is being brusque, because historically the two of us have been very veiled. Sigrun has been a good influence in that regard, I think, but it does tend to come off meaner than it is. This is not an insult or a slight. It is a sign of respect. You were worried about reading his intentions, so he's being clear about them."
There's a pause and offers what she hopes is a comforting smile. "Does that help?" (edited)
Ylva shakes her head at Teagan.
"I can probably guess."
Then listens to Sturm.
"Thats." A huff, at herself not Teagan or Sturm.
"Fair. I guess I was reading things kind of right then just. Not for the reason I thought. Your worried about the Fox with a history of eating people. And Vampires."
"I'm not worried about you. I don't hate you. I also don't think you're not a person." Teagan slams the axe down, picks up the logs he split, and stacks them. "I don't care about you."
"I did my job. That's it. Stop putting your emotions on me. You're managing to annoy me now, and that's pretty impressive." He heads for the door, twists the knob, and then pauses on his way inside. "Anything else?"
Sturm purses her lips, and offers a shrug. "I'm going to head in and refill my tea. I'm tired, and honestly I'm not sure what more there is to say beyond the fact that there's a difference between personal and professional care. Just because it was important to pay attention for one reason doesn't mean that your read on the situation was correct. Teagan doesn't hate you. Neither do I for that matter. You're fine. You sold the thing that got you into trouble. We're good. Now you're just a regular member of the Freehold. You feel me?" (edited)
Ylva shrugs looking a little hurt but stands.
"Yeah I getcha. Have a good night."
At that her form shifts into that of a red Fox and she scurries off towards Klaires.
The Mirrorskin just looks aside at Sturm, shrugs, and heads into the house. "You wanna watch a movie?"
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