Log:Posh Penguins And Promises

Posh Penguins And Promises
"Do you not think that idea terrifies me? Do you think I'm not afraid of leaving you?"
Participants Teagan, Green	6 December, 2017 When there were penguins in the UK, or not; whether or not Teagan is stubborn, and the question: but what happens if you don't die, Teagan?
Location FB14 - Old Brick Cottage
When Teagan comes home, they'll find the house in a not too unusual state. Dim lights in the front room, the old hi-fi spinning a record, the scent of weed drifting through the air. The music of choice seems to be Purity Ring. So dark and delightful. Slightly different, there's no Amanda set on a couch enjoying a book, or not-watching the news (at low volume), or doing any of the other things an Amanda does. No, tonight, Amanda Green is in the kitchen, with the lights on. She's set at the table, and there's a legal pad in front of her, and she's obviously working at... something. Green's dressed casual and warm. A ridiculous, tacky sweatshirt with penguins on it. A pair of black leggings. Black and white fuzzy socks with penguin faces on toe. She's sipping tea as she relaxes, and yes, there's a bowl set in the ash tray next to her cup of tea, waiting for another hit to be taken. Rattle rattle stop. And that's the way that Teagan's car shudders to a stop, as per the usual. They come in the front door freshly-washed and looking all neat, for them. Which probably means they were beating someone else up about an hour ago. Still, they're relatively clean and relatively neat. "Honey, I'm h-- oh." "Hey, love," comes the greeting with a lopsided grin, when they recover from the surprise. Easily loping across the distance from the door to the table, they lean down and kiss the top of her head. "What... is with the penguins and the pad?" Green glances up, as Teagan approaches, and offers a warm smile. Her eyes lid, ever so delicately, as a kiss is pressed to her head. Ever so perfect! Choreographed, perhaps! "Mmmm... do you not like them?" Green asks, as she leans back, then looks down at her penguins. "I thought they were cute," she says. There's a flash of a pout, as she looks back up. "And I'm writing," she says. Needlessly. Perhaps it's meant as snark? It certainly /sounded/ snarky. But likely that was only to set up her next line. "A pledge. Or, well, my go at it. Though I can't say I'm making much progress," she admits. Perfect and choreographed, and exactly the opposite of the impulsive Summer, even in the way they school their emotions. The gesture just makes the Mirrorskin smile lopsidedly, affectionately, and their long fingers come up to smooth the little Brit's hair. "No, I do like them," answers Teagan. "They're just not very typical for you, so I wasn't sure if this was ... some sort of indicator, or just some British tradition I wasn't wise to." They sling themselves into the chair next to Green, propping an elbow on the table. "Well, obviously," they answer, forehead wrinkling up, perhaps thrown by the snark. "Oh. Well. I can help, if ... you want? Or try?" Blink, blink. Those pretty, pretty eyes stare up at the Changeling beside her. "... Do you not have Penguin Day in the states...?" she asks, in the perfect mask of innocence. There's a few moments of quiet as she looks away from Teagan and to the page. Really, there's very few words on the page. And instead, there's drawings of penguins. Green's lips turn to a contemplative frown. "Well, your opinion is obviously needed," she says. "This will be between you and I..." They stare at her for a minute, and then snort. "Ooookay," they answer about Penguin Day. "That was adorable, but no. I almost fell for it. But I don't think you have penguins naturally in the UK, do they?" Sometimes, being uneducated means being really uneducated. "I should watch a Netflix on penguins, that would tell me." Their hand comes up and pets her hair again absently. "The penguins are cute, and I want to take the picture and put it in my pocket and keep it." Well, that's something. A pause, and they blink. "Oh! Well. Yeah, I kind of would need to, yeah. What were you thinking?" "It is an island," Green insists. "Well, a couple of them. And quite far north," she adds. "Scotland, especially." Because more facts that are tangently related might at best help convince Teagan! She holds a hopeful smile for a moment, then it settles. "Honestly, I've nothing. I keep trying to say what I might want... and nothing comes out," Green says. "But if I'm to propose to you... I imagine this would be the equivalent in your world, yes? Promises, meant to be kept..." That is, of course, all said as casual as talk of penguins is. The look that Teagan gives Green is suspicious, to put it mildly. "If I ask Siri if there are penguins in Scotland, what will Siri say?" Because Teagan does ask Siri an awful lot. It helps, the chatty assistant, when you can't read. A lot, actually. The hopeful smile prompts another small, affectionate brushing of her hair, and Teagan's smile going wry. They follow along with the conversation, and the verb to propose initiall floats past their brain with perhaps not the right meaning, because it can mean an awful lot of things. A business proposition, or, well, proposing a temporary pledge. It's only once her voice trails off that Teagan blinks once, twice. Not quite so casual as Green, but not screaming and running off into the night, which, all things considered... "Well, I mean, it... yeah, it can be, depending on the pledge. I mean, they can last a day, and be for pocket change. But... I mean. Yeah?" "Which is what had me thinking," Green says, picking up the conversation and keeping the ever-so-casual tone. "It's tradition... in Britain, going back a long while, before there were penguins, to perform a handfasting. Bit of nonsense, really, in practice. Mostly was so a man could try out his wife before committing to anything serious. But... well..." she gives an idle wave of a hand. And yes, she did work penguins in again. "A handfasting. Then, for a year and a day, the pair are to decide if they wish to truly be wed. After which, well... until death do us part. Which, considering all things, might be shorter than a year and a day, but..." She trails off again, as she stares up at Teagan. "Before there were penguins." A disbelieving mutter, amused, that comes with a headshake. It's possible the penguins are the ballast keeping this conversation afloat. The calmness Teagan exhibits is certainly mirror-blank, to an extent. They're not freaking out like they might have three months ago, but the mirror-blankness is a little indicative, to someone who knows them. "Okay," they allow, believing the handfasting a bit more than the penguins. Pledges do have a 'year and a day' setting, after all. That makes sense. Their right hand comes up, carefully loops Green's hair behind her ear. "What does a year of trial marriage look like to you, love? What, if anything, does it change, other than ... advancing the 'first and foremost' to a more permanent state?" Green reaches out a hand, leaving her pen where it lay atop the penguins and the words on paper. Which, well, a year and a day is clearly written. Among other things with lots of scribbles. That hand slides around Teagan's waist, and she draws them closer. "I can't say I'd change anything," she decides. "I'm rather happy. But it would be moving towards something more permanent. Something more... concrete. Which, I know, is terrifying for you. But it feels right," she says. "And I'm afraid I have little more to offer, beyond... it feels right." They lean in closer to her when the arm slides around their waist, and their face is leaned down, forehead rested on her shoulder. It's an uncharacteristically small gesture, shrinking gesture, from the normally bombastic Summer. Both of their arms loop easily around her, and they sigh, an easy, gentle exhalation. "It scares me as much for you as it does for me," they reiterate. It's a conversation they've had before, after all. "Someday, they're going to bring you Baby. But you'll already know." There's a little quiet hollowness in their voice when they say that, something born of bitter experience. "It ... doesn't... really scare me as much for me, anymore. I know that you -- won't hurt me. Not -- " Not the way they've been hurt before. "And what if you don't die, Teagan?" Green murmurs out, her words soft and warm and loving. Her head tilts to the side, to lay her forehead against the top of Teagan's head. "You say you can see fate, but you can't see the future," she says. Unlike, well, nevermind. "So, let us pretend, yes? That you don't die. That your war doesn't claim you. Then what?" she asks. "How long will you live before you die naturally?" she asks. "A long time. Maybe longer than you." And that might be part of it, too. That's the sort of thing they hadn't actually wanted to think about, never mind that: "I've been back a long time already. Almost thirty years, but I've aged, like... ten. We age slower, the more powerful we get. And some of us... age real slow." They lift their head up, adding, "There are ways to get younger again, too. For me, for you. It could be... a very, very long time." They don't comment on seeing the future or not seeing the future. "So, they might bring me your sword, as you lay dead upon the battlefield," Green says, lifting her own head once more, to peer at Teagan. "Just as they might ask you to sit and hold my hand as cancer takes me," she says. "Do you not think that idea terrifies me? Do you think I'm not afraid of leaving you?" she asks. She flashes a soft smile. "Which is part of this," she says. "I'd rather weep over my spouse dying, than... some person, who stayed with me," she says. "Just as-... well. Admittedly, it'd be a touch awkward to explain why I had a lover some twenty or thirty years younger than me. But-... well. I do hope I'll still be desirable at sixty..." Now that, it seems, is something they had never actually considered, and it gives them actual pause. Green has always been right, Teagan does get lost in their own head, and they've been chasing that death so long, seeing someone else's got an awful lot harder. An awkward silence follows, and then they lean in and kiss Green's forehead; their nose gets laid alongside hers. "I can't imagine otherwise, my love," they admit, before they lean back, looking at her for a long, long, silent time. At the end of it, one of those scarred hands comes up to cradle her cheek. "So ask." For all that silence, Green just stares back at Teagan, with that soft, loving smile on her lips. She's got all night, and could almost surely hold that look all night. Or, well, for a few hours at least. When that hand comes up, Green blinks, and blows a half-laugh out of her nose. "Ask what?" "You edged around it and you glanced sideways at it, Amanda Green, but if you think I'm giving up my wandering-stray-cat-unattached days without so much as a proper question, you've got several things coming." Teagan's thumb slides along Green's cheek, one corner of their mouth pulled up, just so. "Ask, or don't ask. But I can't say yes unless you do." And at that, Green scoffs. Scoffs. "Oh, come now. Ask you, without a ring to offer, without a cord to bind our hands, without a witness, without our pledge written, without some grand romantic gesture..." she says. "I'll not take this lightly, no, thank you," she says, her nose turning up just a bit. That's when Teagan's grin comes into full bloom, however briefly, and they murmur, "That's my girl," before leaning in to lay a brief, almost chaste kiss on Green's lips. "I wouldn't have you any other way. Which is good, because the only person I know as bull-stubborn as I am is you." All of it's easy and affectionate, almost actually relaxed. The kiss is returned, however slightly, as is prim and proper for that moment. As if Sir Phillip Green himself is sitting and observing the pair. "Hmph," Green responds to that. "I have always found you to be quiet accomdating and flexible. Easily swayed, even," she insists. "Now then..." she says, as she looks back to her paper. She considers another moment, then just huffs. "Nevermind. Let's go to bed." A subtle snort from Teagan, then. "I'm a little different with you, dear," they answer mildly. "Which is probably why this works." Prim and proper kiss or not, their smile is lopsided still, easy and near to content: then she redirects and they laugh softly, readying to turn back to the reading. When she changes her mind, though? Teagan laughs, a low, sure chuckle, and leaaaans over enough to scoop the little Brit up in their arms. "I am more than happy to take you, and your penguins, to bed. But the penguins have to wait outside. British subjects or not." There's a little 'eep' as she's suddenly picked up. As if Teagan doesn't do this on the reg, and as if she didn't clearly see it coming. "Oh, darling..." Green starts, as she stares at Teagan's face. "They're Scottish. They hardly count," she says, as if this really makes sense. "Though, you ought not worry about actual penguins," she says. "But, rather, what other items I wear that also have penguins on them?" she offers.