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If the Wyrd does not accept the wedding ring that she wears or the pea in her belly as something belonging to her target than the wyrd can frankly go and fuck itself. But because she's Sigrun, she's stuffed one of his t-shirts up her armor, but no one has to know. It only matters what makes it into the storybook.
Genuinely, Winter couldn't have come up with a better challenge to lay before the would be Spring. She explains all of this to June, of course. Spinning her own fantastical personal narartive. (In which June plays a starring role, it must be said. She is spoken of as the Cow-Lifter, and the Bee-Queen, and the Mead-Wife.). And very clearly, this is how Sigrun is processing her husband being beyond the reach of her hands right now. And to Jackie's credit, it's working really fucking well.
She has all of her things. Including her Firefighter's duffel and its ID. Wherever this is going, she's got all the hats she has. Even the fucking black bloc shit. Big breath in, sharp exhale, big smile to June and Jackie. "You two ready? You need anything?" Whatever may be screaming in her head right now, it's just sliding right off her back like it doesn't fucking matter. She just keeps smiling, her own hero for once. She's really doing the thing.
Jackie rubs at the back of her neck. She, in stark contrast to her usual easy confidence, is anxious. And it shows a little, even past her usual composed facade. "A plan for the few seconds we have until shit hits the fan when we show up? If Teagan's gone to ground, that... that honestly reminds me of how I felt after that dreamscape run. And I'm stuck between "I should probably be out in front for that because you're fucking pregnant, O Husband's Wife", and "I shouldn't be showing my face in reality because robocop firing squads are still looking for me." Our good news is, we still have an emergency reset, even with Teagan momentarily AWOL. I just want to try to save us from needing to use it if their first response is as rough as I suspect it might be."
As much as June can tend to be rather easygoing about things, the wellbeing of her friends is one of the things she's likely to get anxious about, and lovers is another question altogether. She's come similarly equipped with things to use to guide her toward her absent sweetheart, and she's geared up about as much as Sigrun is. She might not be in her plate armor, but that's one accessory she hopefully won't need for anything ahead of them tonight.
"I can take a hit on either of your behalfs," she tells the other two. "You both take care of yourself in that respect, okay? Hopefully it won't come to it anyway. But let's stop talking about things and get moving. I'm going to start nervously chewing my nails if we stand around."
"If it's true that my story is to end with Teagan's baby in my belly instead of the one I'd rather, better we have that ending now. Before anyone else has to die because of our folly." Sigrun sounds so balls of steel certain as she says it, like this is just how the world works and how things are going to happen and people really need to start getting on board or they're going to start to get left behind.
"I've spun this thread already, Jackie." She reaches a reassuring hand out to cup Jackie's cheek. "And brave, June. I am pregnant. And not yet slow for it. This will go well. This will go well, and all will be well, and we will be home again soon. This is just a test, and a very small one, really. And I'm just. I'm so relieved you're here to kick its tail with me."
And with that, Sigrun closes her eyes and thinks of her husband, God of the Good Dick.
"Heimdall, grant me your vision, Freyr guide his eyes..." She continues to mumble prayer as her eyes begin to flicker behind her lids.
There's a brief flicker across Sigrun's vision -- Teagan, crouched like a gargoyle on a rooftop several stories up, looking down at Broad Street. She can also see the moment when Teagan knows that they've been seen somehow, knows they lost that Clash of Wills, the way he starts and pulls back. There's the Wells Fargo sign up South Broad in the background, and she can tell that the Mirrorskin pushes away and starts heading south down Broad. Hiding in the shadows of the brightest lights, not that surprising for Teagan. (edited)
"You're both wonderfully tough and brave, I just want to minimize the blood on the field between now and coming home. It's not the fun kind where people that deserve to lose it are in the way. All the skin in this game is ours, and I'm just- nervous," Jackie admits.
The reassurance that the thread's been spun helps a lot, and she nods, bobbing her head as she takes a deep breath and lets it out. "This will go well, and all will be well. Ameyn."
"Yeah. Hopefully nobody gets hurt, but if they do, hopefully it's us, and out of us, hopefully it's me," June says with a worried look between her loves. "I heal pretty quickly, but also, if I'm being attacked, I might be close enough to touch long enough to fix things."
She looks at Sigurn, who is intending to take the lead to start with, and awaits direction.
She rocks out of her vision with a gasp, "He knows we're coming and started south on Broad. Looks like near Sansom. We'll need to split up. Junebug, we can use our shortwave if we need to keep in touch. Go to off duty channel, we can play like we're trying to track down a drunk squaddie. I'll come in from the east. Market. If he doubles back north, I can cut him off. Maybe. Jackie, you come up from the south. June, if you come in from the east a little further down broad, we can maybe herd him towards West Philly. He's not likely to go to ground at Downtime or home. Or the Freehold. Or the Summer Hollow. That basically rules the fuck out running any other direction but west at the end of the night. June, I'll fire the flare gun again in about thirty seconds and radio an update in." Sigrun underhands another short wave over to Jackie, then hops into her truck and slaps on the red fire light on the roof.
"To glory, sisters!"
She leans out the side of her truck and starts off down the driveway at a tear, shrieking skoll at the top of her lungs. (edited)
Somewhere, out there in the night, Teagan runs south down Broad, seeking somewhere to hide, somewhere to be safe.
Of course, nowhere is safe when you live in a world of endless urban warfare. A world where death just means Le General pulls you back to life, puts a blade back in your hand, and puts you back on the field once more.
They scramble southward, leaping from building to building, climbing up and down them like a spider on the walls. Baby hangs at their hip, Sigsknifr on their right side, as they climb up the DoubleTree at Broad and Locust, scrambling unseen up to its roof, crouching next to the HVAC. He touches Baby's hilt again, reassuring himself. Not that he had Baby then...
Jackie understands this. This is a Hunt. Her job, at the moment, is not the Hunter, it is the Hound. Her task is to flush the quarry where it need go, and so, she is not hidden. She is not leaves, she is not Twilight, she is herself and to Wyrd eyes, she. Stands. Out. She's not trying to hide from Teagan, she's trying to get Teagan to notice the wandering pillar of Shadowy Wyrd heading in his direction and give him a reason to move elsewhere.
"Roger," June says as she checks that her short wave is readily accessible. Of course it is. When they all set out she does the same, going to her VW Bus and setting out to come at the situation from the direction they all just discussed. The tiny firefighter has had plenty of experience with keeping calm in frightening situations, and that's what she does. Nobody is helped if she gets in an accident on her way there. Safe and steady is the strategy. When she gets to where she's going and pulls over she comes over the radio. "June on site now, disembarking and heading out on foot."
Lights spinning, hanging out the window, screaming her battle cry, the Valkyrie rides to war. Her truck's engine roars as she hangs a wild left onto the Kelly drive, swinging across three moving lanes of traffic and straight onto the far shoulder where she drops it from third straight back into fifth and hammers down the gas again so hard in nearly throws her back into the door frame. Market Street Exit. Market Street Exit.
"GET OUT OF MY FUCKING WAY, PHILADELPHIA!! I SWEAR TO FUCK, GET OUT OF MY FUCKING WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!!!" She bounds over the median with a crash of winterized tire and bounces back down onto the ramp up from the Kelly onto Market from the east end.
Another open throated shriek of unadulterated joy escapes her as she tears off her beanie and just lets her braids fly free. Another deep breath in as she trusts it to Freyja and flies through a full ass red light, straight between two cars.
Another shriek of wild, joyous, pure and fearless abandon.
"Headed that way from from out West." Sturm calls in from her stupidly huge pickup that nobody living in a city needs. She slams the vehicle into gear and guns it back out onto the street heading towards the radioed location... eyes following the new, wandering pillar of Shadowy Wyrd that she's now moderately more worried about. Fortunately, Winter is the court of sorrow bottling up your shit real tight, so she's great at compartmentalization. (edited)
Oh, that shadowy figure? It's seen. It's seen. And as the heat in Johnnie's necklace increases, and the rest of the motley that's come out to hunt down the Unseen Sun closes in on his location...
... Teagan collapses, next to the HVAC system on the top of the DoubleTree hotel. The contract lets go, and their body crumples down onto the roof, all limp and unresponsive.
If you never tell anybody anything about your past, are they to blame when they accidentally look just like your Keeper coming to give you new instructions? No. They are not to blame at all.
The feeling gets warmer, and warmer, and warmer, and then Jackie's standing in the street in front of the Doubletree, pausing and looking behind herself, then up. A frown, slow- and then sharper. She lifts the radio. "Guys? I don't think Teagan's moving." And then she's into the alley, a quick check in both directions, and once sure she's not being observed, she kicks some omnipresent leaf litter from the gutter into the air, grabs some, and rockets up to the roof as a pillar of leaves, dissipating 1 level down on the fire escape in case, you know. cameras up top, and racing to have A Look Around.
At word over the radio that Teagan's not moving June goes form fast walk to run. Not a sprint, because June is fast and running around at superhuman speeds isn't going to help the situation, but she's definitely booking it, and all the gear she's carrying with her doesn't slow her down. "Where at, Johnnie? Details, please!" she says into her radio as she hurries that way.
"Roof of the DoubleTree, I think. Checking now!" calls Jackie over the radio.
"Double Tree on South Broad. Rooftop, near an HVAC unit. I'm almost there, going to take the elevator straight to the top with my fire key. Fuck this job. Fuck it, if that's what it takes. Fuck it." She's off the radio and throws it across the cab as she uses a downshift to slow her truck down from 85 to 45 in the span of an off ramp, leaving smoke under her hood. She holds onto the roll bar as she banks a fishtail right off the ramp and kicks off down broad street across another red, her light and sirens blaring. Traffic flees her, which it helps, but it's south broad at night. And so she leaves the car in park, lights running, and grabs her bag, taking off across the hoods of fucking cars in leaps and bounds.
She is at a full as sprint, human though it is, as she screams across the parking lot, bouncing off the hood of a Lexus pulling out of a parking spot. She gives it a middle finger and a kick and takes off again, charging up the steps to the entrance and yanking the door open.
"FIRE DEPARTMENT! CLEAR THAT FUCKING ELEVATOR NOW! NOW!"
This is all terribly surprising for the young man pushing a cart full of clean and folded towels towards the service elevator, but he doesn't question it. When a woman shrieking about the fire department and running at you like every lost soul in Hel is chasing her and looking for a way out? Back up.
The young man in the maroon hospitality polo pulls his headphones off of his ears and blinks rapidly, then yanks the cart back out of Sigrun's way.
There aren't any cameras that Johnnie can see on the roof, which is probably good, considering the fact that Teagan just appeared out of nowhere up there and collapsed onto the rooftop. They're just... laying there.
"... not moving?" Fortunately for everyone else's ears (and mood) Sturm doesn't key into the radio just for the purpose of grumbling under her breath, but rest assured she does. "Fuck," she murmurs, minutes behind Sigrun. She arrives, throwing the truck into park about a block away from the hotel, and taking off at a sprint. Thankfully, she's normal when it comes to running, so the only eyes it draws are those of people unaccustomed to seeing mountain-sized women barreling through intersections without waiting for the walk light to change. She turns, giving an oncoming driver a look that very plainly reads hit me at your own fucking risk, and follows the distant sound of Valkyrie battlecry, praying she's not too slow.
Fortunately, she's the kind of person people just get out of the way for. She will not stop, and you probably won't stop her even if you're squared up. (edited)
Johnnie hears Sig's confirmation and spins towards the AC unit, darting over and dropping heedlessly to her knees, skidding and surely bruising something as she closes to check on Teagan's condition, cuz you know what body artists actually do know a little about? Medicine! It's true! At least this one! Is a Teagan alive? Sure seems so! What else can she tell? Great question, cuz there's no response from comatose folx! "Uh- breathing, not seeing signs of injury- I don't- guys, I have no idea what's going on, he's right where Sigrun said and I've got him but I don't know what the fuck is wrong."
As the doors are closing on the elevator she shouts at the two confused employees, "Keep an eye on this door. My backup is coming. One uniform! Let them i--" And the door is closed. No time. Key from around neck, into the lock and turn. Roof. Roof. Roof roof roof. She stops poking it and starts punching at the frame above it until the lift actually starts moving, her throat and face purpling up.
She paces her new prison like a caged animal, hands gripping elbows, staring upwards and never missing her wings more in her fucking life. Finally all that purple in her throat reaches her cheeks, and she just shrieks in wordless rage at the ceiling. Here. Where nothing and no one can hear her or see it to judge her. Except maybe a camera. If it's even working.
She just doesn't care right now.
June ducks down an alley and checks whether anybody is observing her. They're not, and a moment later she's on the wing, a crow as hard as it can to gain altitude and cover distance at the same time. She has to concern herself less with maintaining reasonable speed, since fewer people are likely to think that crow is a bit too fast for to be normal, and her raucous cawing clearly signals to any other birds around, "get the fuck out of the way! Important business! Coming through!" (edited)
Every once in a while, you just need to take a little nap on a rooftop, right? That's what Teagan is doing. Just taking a little nap, just like when Cedric collapsed in front of the cameras into his Clarity coma all of those months ago. His heart's beating steadily, his breathing is even. Baby lays at his side, the edge of the blade against the rooftop where their jacket fell the wrong way when they toppled. Touching the ground.
Sturm crashes into the lobby, cursing under her breath the whole-ass time as she skids to a halt in front of the elevators. Fuck. They're not here. Stairs. She's fit. It's fine. Just more cursing as she takes off at breakneck speed. Being the most 'normal' person is a hard job in this Motley.
"Sounds like a clarity coma? We had a-- Cedr-- one of the fuckin' Springs collapsed on TV a bit ago. Teagan was already in a bad way, maybe it got worse as we were chasing them? I don't know--" She wracks her brain for when Direct Action fought the Armsmaster. "Maybe it was. Uhhhh... fuck it. Dunno why." (edited)
It's seeing Baby on the ground that seals it for V. It also makes her squeak frantically and swoop shadows beneath Baby to get her off the ground. "He passed out. Like, dead-stop middle of what he was doing. Yeah, that tracks but what the fuck could have caused that way up here? He wasn't talking to anybody, he was just... up here. Alone. He dropped Baby. So- so... he really seems fine, just asleep. Except for obviously not being okay." Sorta like Johnnie. Just way more so. Johnnie'll be alright.
Sigrun has a long painful wait while the elevator climbs the tower. And once she reaches the elevator's top, she has to push out onto the rooftop in the Philly winter wind and try not to fall over at this altitude. She looks about, takes a moment to orient herself, and starts immediately tromping over to Jackie with a wag of her her arm, picking up the pace but careful in the rooftop gravel.
"June should be here soon." She sinks down to her husband's side, and her training kicks in. Pulse. Airway. Injury. Work the numbers. "Remember the time this started, Jackie? Can you write that down? Don't trust your memory." A second question once stops checking his pulse. "You got baby, right?"
It does, in fact, not take June long to show up, and at least the rest of the motley is likely to be aware of her animals forms. Otherwise a crow coming in at turbo speed and alighting on Teagan would be much more likely be an alarming experience. As it is, in this case it's most likely to be a red panda disguised as a black bird.
The moment that her little birdy feet touch Teagan she starts trying to hoover up that Clarity damage, too. She'll probably want to be herself again before she does to much of that, since she turns that Clarity damage into physical damage for herself, and she's not very big right now. She's also not going to delay.
"I do not know," Sturm grunts from exertion as she continues her trek up the stairs, fortunately she's about half-way up. Floor three. Floor four. "Philly always looks like a fucking warzone to me. Maybe the smog from one of the manufacturing plants just looked particularly like a smoking crater from all the way up there. It could literally be anything, but I doubt we'll know until they're awake. We should to get 'em to the Sage of the-- Lux, or some other onieromancer."
She might be a total meathead but... she's a meathead with information, at least.
... and now she's a meathead who has suddenly burst onto the scene, nearly taking the door off it's hinges in the process of trying to get up onto the roof. (edited)
The second the crow touches Teagan's chest, wounds open up on the little bird and there's a horrible crunch, one of her wings breaking for no visible reason. That'll make it difficult for June to stay balanced, but the other thing that'll probably make that difficult is Teagan sitting up really abruptly. They pull in a sharp gasp, and their first move is to reach for Baby, because there are People leaning over him.
Most people would scream in a situation like this, but the only sound Teagan makes is the tiniest little choked thing at the back of their throat. 'Scream and you get hurt. Scream and you die. Don't make a sound.
Sigrun would normally be immediately leaping after June. She's always done so, and June's always said it's fine and it's not a problem and she'll take care of it. And it seems Sigrun is learning to believe her. Because while there's a sympathetic wince, she stays at her husband's side and is there to attempt to quickly dominate his vision.
If there's one thing she can do, it's become grand. Her light brightens, the aura of calm command exudes from her with all the regal authority of kith and crown.
The Valkyrie scoots in closer to the warrior, hooking thumb in thumb to clasp his hand. Her hand reaches forward to brush over his brow gently. Her touch is cool, and gentle. Soothing, perhaps.
"Congratulations, brave warrior," she begins with every sincere bone in her body. "Your battle is at an end. I am Sigrun of the Vanir, and The Tear of War shall trouble you no longer. You are chosen by my lady and called, one day to her table. You are called, too, by Freyr. And by Erikr, who will be your son by me one day if you so choose it."
"For I choose you, also, Teagan. If you will have me." She does not say again. But she does remain, staring at him with the calm certainty of her convictions. (edited)
June-the-bird tumbles from Teagan when he sits bolt upright, because one of those wings isn't working very well for balance, but also because it gives her a chance to turn back into herself as she rolls a foot or two away. There's a soft pained sound from her, since she just rolled over her own broken arm, but she does her best to muffle it, and then reaches out with a steady hand to simply put a hand on whatever part of Teagan she can reach.
She has some trouble stifling the cry of pain that comes from her when she draws down more of the damage that was done to Teagan's psyche, though. The fur that covers her is the only reason why the bruises that blossom all over her aren't clearly visible to the other Lost, but they would be to other onlookers, and if she showed up to work looking like she does now she'd probably have a lot of questions to answer. The sound of more bones breaking, though? Plural? That's probably something the others can pick up on easily enough.
None of her current agony stops her from shifting around so that she can climb to her knees, where with a gagging retch a fair bit of blood comes out of her mouth, onto the rooftop. "I'll be fine," she says. "No need to focus on me."
"... or you can do that." Sturm mutters to herself, wincing as she hears the crunch of hollow bones even from across the rooftop. She shoves both fists into the pockets of her duster, and makes her way Teagan-ward, no longer feeling quite the urgency that had spurred sprinting into oncoming traffic now that her boyfriend is awake.
She exhales a flurry of icy wind from both nostrils, and the truly monstrous amount of tension she'd been holding in her shoulders dissipates. There's a grunt as her boots finally crunch to a halt beside Jackie.
Sturm is used to June doing this. Sturm is also not expecting that reaction. Surely, things are bad if she's gone back for seconds, and is puking blood. "Fuck," she stoops beside June, placing a hand on the red panda's back, rather than continuing to crowd Teagan. You know. On account of the whole sudden return to consciousness.
It's okay. It's okay. Blood's a thing, it happens, but christ, those crunching sounds, Vorpal's never gonna get them out of her head. It's worse this time, meatier and thicker, more of a progressive shatter than a simple quick snap. She takes a deep breath, lets it out. "It's okay. Nobody here will let anyone hurt you." She wants to support Sigrun, support June, support everyone, but someone needs to keep an eye out until they know what caused this.
So she does that.
And hopes it's the right move.
The first thing that happens is that Sigrun's speech pins Teagan in place -- his newly-acquired Touchstone, after years of hanging around Sigrun and learning by osmosis, means that the Valkyrie's words hold him in place. It is clear, at first, that he doesn't recognize any of them.
And there's disbelief crossing his face at first, and then there's this sort of... liquid relief... when Sigrun's words hit him, though that relief is edged with disbelief too. There is no such thing as rest or peace or any of it, not in Verdun. He makes this strange, crackling sound in the back of his throat, and it sounds far too similar to the sound that the radios in his Mantle make, but he's reaching his hand out towards Sigrun, shaking. It's a sort of bizarre take on the Sistine Chapel, if God were a Valkyrie and Adam a shimmering Mirrorskin reflecting her light.
June's hand on Teagan literally pulls out and devours the delusions swarming in his brain, and he twitches, a full-body thing. It's like a light switch flipping, and the hesitance is gone, though it's replaced with horror and shame flooding his expression as his hand closes around Sigrun's. Another croaking sound in the back of his throat. "Oh no. I mean yes. But ... oh no. What --"
Sigrun's light brightens again, though it's growing softer and pinker more and more these days. The bright golds and whites seem to abound far less when she gets to glowing. She does spare a glance over to June again, then to Jackie and Sturm in quick succession to make certain everyone is still doing okay before the center of her world becomes Teagan again.
She draws him a little closer, not trying to crowd anyone out, while still trying to cradle him in reassurance. She tugs the leather tong out of his shirt and replaces her hand with the symbol of Freyr, letting him see it. His brain can lie to him all he wants, Freyr will see it right. She trusts in that, too.
"Do you not remember, husband? Mmm? You have many wives. And are much loved. And have given me seahusbands, too. Oh, your good and righteous cock has traveled these fair waters, Teagan Shadowson. And we are all come, with love and patience and bags full of weapons, to do what we must, to love you. Now. Will you please, please, please. Pray. You know you want to."
Hesitantly, June starts getting back up to her feet. She leans pretty heavily on Sturm as she does, putting one hand against her leg and nearly pulling herself up as much as pushing with her legs. Very clearly she's not in good shape at all, probably not all that far from being unconscious herself, but she has control over what damage she pulls out of someone's head and into herself. She stopped just as short as she had to.
Once she gets all the way onto her feet she leans herself all the way against Sturm, cradles her broken arm against herself with her other hand, and watches things playing out with Sigrun and Teagan. The righteous cock comment makes her laugh, though. And when she laughs it fucking hurts, and she starts coughing, and she spits out more blood. She doesn't say anything, but she does look up at Sturm. Yeah, that's not good.
Johnnie is doing a good job at looking like she's doing a good job. It'll take a lot more than a glance to see any problems, but that's completely intentional, this isn't her moment, her problems are small and will wait, and keeping them off the table so nobody feels bad about focusing on the people that need the focus right the fuck now is precisely what she wants. She tucks in behind her composure and tries to just enjoy what relief she can as her motleymates do Competence.
She really does like competence.
Sturm, professional MMA fighter, definitely recognizes the physical signs of "not good" and crunching bone and vomiting blood are most of them. Sigrun's comment pries a small puff of laughter out of her -- no mean feat, to be sure -- but her focus is on June for the moment. She offers her arm for the smaller woman to stabilize, and frowns.
"We should get you into the hedge," she murmurs. "Or to a fuckin' healer, maybe. I dunno, June..."
She cranes her neck to get a look at Jackie, who is currently playing watch, and knows that their backs are safe from whatever might have triggered Teagan's clarity coma. (edited)
There's such confusion on his face, such as one can see on a person whose eyes aren't eyes at all, because so much of this sort of emoting happens through the eyes. And the way his shoulders hunch is nothing but shame. Teagan isn't supposed to need rescuing. Teagan is supposed to rescue. Teagan isn't supposed to make June hurt herself to save him. Horror flickers over his face when he hears the sounds of crunching, the splatter of blood, and he looks sharply -- briefly -- towards June before Sigrun, her arms around him, draws their attention back.
"I remember," they offer quietly, and curl into Sigrun, their breathing a little shallow. It might be that their skin silvers because of Sigrun's light playing over him, or it might be that their skin silvers all on its own. But they do smile a little more warmly, a little more truly, when she speaks the way that she does, invoking -- among so many other things -- his good and righteous cock. Sigrun knows how to make him smile, or in this case laugh wryly. "I will pray, Wife, I promise it," he answers quietly. "When Johnnie opens that door and it leads home, and June is in Downtime."
And that's how you know Teagan is -- at least for now -- in control of his own thoughts. He's worrying about other people, and knows that June in the Hedge heals quickly.
The blood spitting gets her to finally intercede verbally, "There's healing juice in my bag. Take it a gulp at a time, or you might waste it. Jackie? Do you want to grab that for June?" Sigrun doesn't really seem keen on arguing with June on this one. That's blood. That's she's spitting up. That came from inside her. Where the blood is supposed to stay. Sigrun's resting mom face says all of this plain, and the raised eyebrow she gives June is standing over her expression's shoulder holding a rolling pin.
When her husband is not only back but really back, she wraps her arms around his head and kisses it firmly, shutting her eyes as she does so. She finally lets out her breath, and steps back again, moving to tidy up her things and make sure she's not forgetting thing. And that everyone is taken care of. The way a Sigrun do when Not Thinking About The Thing.
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