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Micah Bradley:
After his encounter with one of Them last night, Micah somehow felt the need to be in a safe space, even if that safe space would mean being closer to the strange and scary world that They came from. This found the Avowed back in the Freehold to explore and find a quiet spot, perhaps a library, to sit in and wait until he could talk to his bonded Lost.
Dressed in a plaid jacket, blue t-shirt, dark jeans and black running shoes, he walked around casually, hands in his jean pockets as he looked in on room after room that was accessible.
Sigrún Ljósdóttir:
One of the cabins doesn't look much like a library per se, but it looks warm and inviting, occupied, and with plenty of smoke coming up out of the chimney. So when Micah pokes his head in there and find Sigrun relaxing on a couch inside, pretending to work? She just motions for him to come inside quickly to stop letting out the heat. (And before anyone sees her 'working'.) To her credit, there are stacks of reports on her desk, so this is probably a break. There's a pot of stew hanging over the fire, a skin of drink hanging on the hearth, and all the furniture is hygge approved wood, leather, and abundant cushions. There's even throw blankies for if your footsies get chilly.
"Get in here, I ain't payin' to heat the whole neighborhood!"
Micah Bradley:
Surprise showed clearly on his face as he quickly scooted into the cabin and closed the door. "Oh um... Hello. Sorry to barge in on you like this. I am called Micah." he introduced himself a little uncertainly as he accepted her welcome.
Sigrún Ljósdóttir:
She swing her legs off the couch and set up, instead. She looks, for all intents and purposes, like ... a valkyrie. There's really little mistaking her. Glowing vaguely, slightly elfin, entirely norse in appearance and dress. Her alabaster skin is inlaid with lapis lazuli traceries that curl around her cheek and eye, and disappear down the collar of her dress.
"Sigrun Ljodottir. Hail and be welcome, Micah. Come in. Sit. Grab food, drink. I don't believe we've met before." She rolls up to her feet and creaks the floorboards over towards the fire to grab two clay bowls and the ladel, giving the stew a churning or two. "I am a Crimson Sentinel for Summer at present."
Micah Bradley:
"It is an honor to meet one with your standing, Sentinel Ljodottir." he smiled and bowed slightly before going over to sit as he was told. Though his voice was thick with his British accent, he pronounced her name exactly the same way she did.
"I am new to town, having only just arrived a couple of weeks ago."
Sigrún Ljósdóttir:
"Your accent's good. When were you on the Faroe Islands?" Sigrun seems awful impressed by that trick, more than all the rest. A ladel of stew is put into a bowl, followed by a clay spoon. She offers it over to him with a nod, steam coming up off the top like a welcome friend.
"Oh, none of that. It's an honor to fight with me. Anyone can meet me! What's a limey doing here in the horrible land of the yanks? You know about the health care and labor standards, right?"
Micah Bradley:
He chuckled with amusement. "Oh, I was never on the Farce Islands. I however, spent a lot of my time studying families and old blood. Understanding and being able to speak names of different languages and cultures correctly was extremely important in my studies." he explained as he accepted the bowl and spoon with a nod of thanks.
"I came looking for my family. More specifically... My Lost."
Sigrún Ljósdóttir:
"Welp. You don't look like a Tomlinson. So. I don't think you're in the right cabin, friend." Sigrun doesn't make it an accusation, she makes it an apology. She gets her own bowl and spoon, then nabs the skin off the hearth to bring it on over to the couch. She pats the cushion beside herself in invitation, even though there's plenty of space to have space if he wants.
"Who are your people? Who are your Lost?"
Micah Bradley:
Not one to reject such a close invitation from a Lost of her standing or beauty, he quickly got up to sit where she had patted, settling in with the ease of a lazy cat.
"Oh, I have already found him, hah. My family name is Bradley, but I belong to the Menegi line on my mother's side. I am connected to Aurelio Menegi." he beamed proudly before eating a spoonful of stew politely.
Sigrún Ljósdóttir:
Her eyes widen in recognition, but also delight. "Aurelio! We bled together before the gates to this very freehold. Did you know that? He nearly gave his life to defend this place. He is a gifted artist and a valiant warrior with a true and good heart. You are fortunate to have him as an ancestor." Sigrun takes a decidedly unladylike bite of her stew while watching Micah with genuine interest. "They let you guys off the island, these days, huh? Do you know the trade? Glass blowin'n'all?"
Micah Bradley:
"I did not." he noted curiously. "I was aware that he had ties to the Iron Spear, but I did not realize that he defended this Freehold. I'd like to know more about his time here, if you don't mind regaling me with such tales! As for the trade, unfortunately not. I am descended through his brother, who had taken up a different trade."
Sigrún Ljósdóttir:
"There was a time we all did. We had no choice. It doesn't come naturally to him, and his hands are better suited for art than for war, but he didn't look away when it came time for the battle. And he fought outside the walls, not behind them. He truly is an honor to know. I want you to know that." Sigrun pats Micah on the back twice, as though these words genuinely should bring him some comfort, as far removed from the praise as he is.
"For the best! People should be free to find the best for themselves. Which invites the question why you are here, in our hollow, asking after family? What is best for you in this?"
Micah Bradley:
He nodded as he listened to her tale of the battle, taking note of all she said and making mental notes of his own to ask Aurelio about it later. He didn't stop eating either, but does swallow his mouthful before grinning at her for comforting him.
"Well... I came to fulfill The Promise." he said simply. "And out of respect for my ancestor, as well as a curiosity of what I may find here... I decided to stay."
Sigrún Ljósdóttir:
"Oh, like a family promise to come deliver something or something like that? See, that's the sort of cool legendary stuff that never happens to me. I just get attacked by giant friggin tree monsters or sprayed with caustic zombie bear slime. True story." Sigrun takes another bite of her stew, smiling as she chews, cheeks rosy. "Welp. Welcome to Shackamaxon. You settled in and all? Got a place? Got a job? Got a dog? Got a Tinder set up? All that?"
Micah Bradley:
He started laughing at all her questions. He found that he really liked this Lost. She was obviously full of knowledge in the form of stories and folk lore. She had the gift of being captivating even without being a Changeling. And her almost motherly friendliness was wholesome.
"Thank you, Sentinel. I am settled in, yes. I found myself a more permanent apartment when I decided to stay. No job... Yet. Or dog. I do not think I need a Tinder. Do you know if you still have family? Would you like help in finding them?"
Sigrún Ljósdóttir:
Sigrun is that in bucket, to be sure. Warm, friendly, wholesome, motherly. Or at least she seems to be trying very hard to be. She stirs her stew a little to cool it off while watching Micah with bright and attentive eyes.
"Oh, you gotta get a dog," she teases gently. And then laughs a bright laugh at not needing a Tinder. "Yeah, okay, fair." That was probably meant to be flattery from her. The question about family does diminish her folkish warmth considerably. It's just a sore spot, obviously, that he's wandered into. More stew is stirred with her spoon, causing the scraping of clay on clay. "Yep. I do. In Farmington, Minnesota. My father's passed on, but mom's still there. My brother and his wife took over the farm after pop passed on. They got four kids, now. His oldest is married, the second oldest is in college at Saint Catherine's. In Saint Paul. They think I've been dead since 1985, though. Murdered in an apartment break in, in New York. In the Village. Lot of blood and stuff, so."
Micah Bradley:
He paused and lowered his own bowl to look at her, eyes soft and empathetic. "Would you like a hug?" he asked softly.
Sigrún Ljósdóttir:
"No, incredibly handsome italian man who just listened to my very sad story, I would not like a big beefy handsome man hug." Sigrun says this in her very earnest, sincere, wholesome and midwestern voice. And then, a moment later, she turns herself about and faceplants into his chest, shoulders shuddering with quiet sobs. Sorry, Micah. Hormones are all whackadoo with this one at the moment. Still sobbing, she squeezes his bicep once. "Oh, dang," she wails, impressed.
Micah Bradley:
Though he was surprised at the sudden glomp and had to keep his arm holding the bowl of stew tense in order to prevent it from sloshing everywhere, Micah reacted like a supportive person would. He wrapped his free arm around the sobbing Changeling to rub her back gently. Clearly, he did not catch anything strange about this sudden sobbing at all. Nope. Just a supportive guy being a good listener.
Sigrún Ljósdóttir:
Making a mental note to ask about his weight routine, Sigrun curls into a little ball against him, cradles her stew, and sobs. When she realizes part of what she is sobbing about is how good the stew is, she begins to extricate herself from Micah, all snot nosed and puffy eyed, and still annoyingly beautiful despite it all. She honks her nose on a napkin and throws it at the fire with a sizzle. A good death, and clean sticky.
Then she just thrusts out the drinking skin at him, blubbering a bit, lower lip jutting out in a stubborn pout. I'M NOT CRYING, YOU'RE CRYING.
"Here," she says doing so well. "It's water." Aaaaaand she's wailing again. Welcome to Shackamaxon, Micah. This is one of the better ones!
Micah Bradley:
He proceeded to put his own bowl down as she sobbed so that he could encircle her with both arms, even going so far as to rock her a little bit if she allowed. When she extracted herself, he let her do so to smile at her gently. Micah nodded and accepted the skin to take a sip from.
"Feeling better?"
Sigrún Ljósdóttir:
"Yes," she says through renewed tears which she clearly thinks are quite silly at this point. "Ugh. I'm sorry. I'm not normally like this. Sorry. I'm just sort of-- it's a lot just now. Is all. Hi." She snuffles more and rubs at her eyes with her sleeves and tries to composure herself a bit more.
She blows her nose again and laments, "I'm lucky my stew tastes so good, so this first impression can sort of even out a little." She takes in a shake breath and lets it out far less shakily. A second breath manages similar results until the third is smoother, and easier.
Micah Bradley:
He simply grinned at her and waited for her to calm herself. Then he replied back with a wink. "Hi." he said, thinking that she was being quite cute at this time.
Sigrún Ljósdóttir:
She finally did calm down, and probably the crying did her more than a little good. Her eyes are a little puffy, but she seems a little lighter for it. Metaphorically. There's a wry smile when he echoes her greeting, followed by a downward glance and a little shake of the head. She's chuckling quietly when she looks back up to him, "Not really how to stick the landing on this one. Heh." The admission comes with a small blush, but she's back to easy eye contact with him at least.
"So. If you've settled. And you've got work. And you've got a place to stay. Money, gear, food, all of that? What is it that I can do for you? If anything? I'm not complaining, it's just when handsome guys walk into my cabin and hold me while I cry it's after I've been reading a bodice ripper and eating spicy foods. And I'm, you know. Asleep at the time. And dreaming." She rewinds a bit, "Aurelio. Really. Huh." Another beat.
Micah Bradley:
He chuckled with her, enjoying how she bounced back to her chatty self after such an outburst. "Oh, no job yet. I hope to find one soon however. I am doing well enough to survive otherwise. As for what you can do... Well, just being good company is enough I suppose. Since I'm new to town, I wouldn't mind getting to know everyone here. Yes, Aurelio. Are you surprised?"
Sigrún Ljósdóttir:
"What's it that you do? There's plenty of heavy work for light hands, as my mom used to say. We can probably help find you employment, or at least help you make ends meet if you get in a pinch. The community's good like that, but I'm sure you know that." Sigrun took a quick sip from the water skin, the set her food bowl aside more deliberately. Meal's over. Clean up can happen once the company is gone.
"Ah! Well, good company I can manage, I hope." Her smile sweetens at the corners. "If not, you be sure to tell me and I'll see if I can't find someone else around here you can talk to." Her turn to wink at that. "You're welcome to keep me company, though. I was pretending to work in here when you turned up in the first place. It's hard for me to keep motivated in Winter. I end up just wanting naps."
Micah Bradley:
"To be fair, naps are heavenly." he mused, nudging her gently with his elbow. "I am a Genealogist, so I often work with clients to find their long lost family and ancestry if they so wished. Hence my earlier question. I apologize if it upset you. Family can be... Well, difficult. But otherwise, I am also a parkour enthusiast. I suppose if I need to, I can teach the sport to those who are unaware of the Fair Folk."
Sigrún Ljósdóttir:
"Ooh, that sounds cool. Philly's a pretty good city for Parkour, I bet. Not really my bag, I was too busy learning how to turn flax into stuff." Sigrun gestures at her attire, much of which is linen to be fair.
"I decided when I got back that since they can't create stuff, I'd just wear all my own creations. Got a bit carried away with it. So I make my own cosmetics and stuff."
Sigrún Ljósdóttir:
Sigrun adds, "You did, but I needed a good cry. So thank you."
Micah Bradley:
"You are very welcome." he inclined his head in acceptance of the thanks. "What else can an Avowed do besides to help support the Lost who need positive companionship?"
Sigrún Ljósdóttir:
"Literally anything he likes," Sigrun assures him with a chuckle. "You don't owe us anything or anything. I mean, I'm happy to have you and glad you're here and all, but absent a reason to stick around, you can up and leave." At this point, however, she ticks her head towards the door.
"You should visit me at my hollow at some point. Big ol' mead hall. If you like mead. And. Like. Meat and such. Comfy fires, too."
In the absence of her hall, she just kicks her feet up onto her coffee table and slouches lower on the couch, hands folding up on her stomach.
"You more of a wine guy?"
Micah Bradley:
"Hmm, perhaps I have a different view on supporting the Lost because of my curiosity. I am unsure of why, but I feel as though this is my purpose. Everything that has happened to me so far in my life, led to this very point. I know I don't owe you anything, and yet... I feel compelled to support you anyway. You've gone through a lot. You've had experiences I could never dream of having... Or want to. And it is unfair for your lives to just... End, because some asshole decided they wanted to play with you.
Me? I chose all this. I disobeyed my mother to pursue this. Even if I had decided not to stay for Aurelio, I would still stay for the rest of the Lost, or seek out another Freehold, or go home to the one I came from, just so I can offer my support..." he explained in a thoughtful but serious voice. And then he met her eyes to convey just how dedicated he felt towards this lifestyle and once more, the obsession and the madness shone through. "You need all the help you can get."
And just like that, the madness fades away as he contemplates her invitation. "I think I will. Though I don't drink all that much. I am not keen on losing my sense of balance. I do like my meats however!"
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