Chapter Text
Sigrun tapped her foot impatiently. By the gods, what was taking them so long up there? She felt her wings make an attempt to flutter in irritation, and winced. They were still sore from practice that morning. She glanced over at Mikkel, wondering if he was sore too. Must have been, holding up that big heavy body, but he sure wasn’t showing it. There was a sound from the ramp leading up into the train station, and she glanced over sharply.
It would have been mean to point out, but the girl descending the ramp didn’t really look like explorer material. Her crest was pure grey, short and poorly kept. Her tail didn’t have good aerodynamics, her elbow vanes were more down than feathers, and her wings were almost too stubby to get her off the ground in the first place. She was squealing in glee as she looked around at the base. Oh well, Sigrun had already been looking forward to imparting her own style of fighting to her younger partners. A few extra sessions with this one wouldn’t hurt anyone.
Now, how had Dad introduced himself to the new cadets, back when he was doing that? Well, the first step in most situations was to walk confidently towards the person you were talking to. What expression had Dad done? Oh right, smile and-- Before Sigrun could set her face, the girl nearly ran straight into her. Her squeal was cut off, and she stared up at Sigrun, her face somewhere between astonished and terrified.
“Y-You’re so tall! ” she yelped. Sigrun blinked at her, caught off-guard by the compliment. That wasn’t usually how the cadets had spoken to Dad.
“Why yes, I am!” Sigrun took it in stride. “I like you already.” She tried to get back on track with the introduction, but the girl had already turned to Mikkel, who was introducing himself to the new team members. What a brown-noser. She glanced over to the other two new people who’d descended the ramp. One was a Finn with the plumage of some raptor--a merlin, or maybe a peregrine? He’d be a quick study with those wings, like she’d been. And the other… oh gods, was he some kind of pheasant? Whatever he was, those blue and gold feathers would make him hard to lose. And that tail, urgh. He seemed just as perturbed by it as she was, judging by how he kept glancing at it as the girl said something to him in a low voice.
“So, ah, Sigrun. Are you really a captain?” The girl shouted to her suddenly. How was it that this little waterbird was harder to predict than half the trolls she’d fought? “I mean, not just our captain, like an actual captain captain?”
“Of course! You can’t have some shmuck trying to lead this expedition.” Yeah, that was it. She had to build up her authority fast so that the trainees wouldn’t question her instructions.
“Have you ever--” Sigrun cut her off. This was another easy question.
“Yes I have, I’ve even killed a few with my bare hands!” The girl protested weakly, but she continued. “I’m pretty great.” She turned to the other Finn as the girl gave her a confused look. Sigrun could already tell that they were all going to get along swimmingly.
Emil had never really considered his tail before. Sure, it had been heavy and occasionally it had knocked over a few dishes… or cats, but it hadn’t ever shown any sign of being more than a colorful bushel of feathers. And now that he knew what it could do, and everyone else knew what that meant, he wasn’t sure how to look at it. They had been pretty, yes, but there had been plenty of pretty people back in Mora, and he’d never displayed for them. That was what his uncle had called it, and it certainly had felt like he was on display. When he’d gotten on that train last week, he’d never have guessed that any amount of staring could make him uncomfortable.
Mikkel coughed. “You wanted to talk to me about something?” His head was changing its angle subtly as he squinted down at Emil. It gave him the creeps.
“Y-Yes, actually. It’s about my tail.”
“Your… tail.” Mikkel stood up from the crate he’d been sitting on, and it creaked back into normal shape. Emil shrunk back against his own seat as Mikkel walked around behind him, the long feathers of the medic’s elbow vanes rustling against his coat.
“It, er, extended without me trying to make it do that a few days ago, is that normal?”
Mikkel ran a hand through the feathers, appraising them. Emil felt a prickle run up his spine. Mikkel scratched his chin for a moment. “No.” He shook his head, eyes downcast.
“What!”
“I’ve never heard of a person who couldn’t control their display behavior.” Mikkel had to turn away for a moment. “I guess you’ll just have to be careful about how much you think about people you’re attracted to...” He trailed off, pretending to be lost in thought.
Emil was trying to control his breathing. “How on earth will I do that, when they’re going to be with me every day for the next six months?”
Mikkel started, earnestly surprised by that reply. “Er, well, you might just have to avoid looking at them at all. Or at very least looking at them romantically--if you have something to distract you it should be fine. I think.”
Emil had completely failed to contain his panic, and was taking big gulping breaths while Mikkel stared at him, concerned. Oh gods, what a fool he’d been, to waste all his time on appearances when it turned out he’d always be unable to show off without… ugh, it was so awkward even to think about. Mikkel gave him a sombre look before turning around and picking up the crate he’d been sitting on. Emil got up and walked to the door while Mikkel got back to loading the tank. The medic was chuckling a little, but Emil didn’t see why. These would certainly be the most trying days of his life.
“So, Mikkel. Give me the down-low on these new recruits.” Sigrun leaned in a bit closer to him on the bench seat, away from Tuuri. She was an officer, after all, and drivers didn’t need to know what officers were talking about.
“I read thirty pages of dossiers on the ferry to Oresundboro. For each of them.” He sighed. “You’ll need to be more specific than that, ma’am.”
“Well, let’s start with…Hmmm...” She glanced back into the rear compartment of their vehicle. The two others in their team were both perched on one of the desks, with the wind ruffling through their feathers. Lalli was curled up and had his wings wrapped around himself, while Emil gave him a queasy look. “The blue one. Emil.”
“Emil Vasterstrom was a cleanser in the Swedish military, ranked Private at the time of his voluntary discharge to serve on this mission. The dossier mentioned that he’d attended several renowned private schools before his military service, but it did not say he had actually gained any useful skills from this.”
Sigrun stared at Mikkel, confused, which he mirrored blankly.“How on earth did you remember all that?”
“I studied for six years to gain my medic certification, and I still remember most of the textbook’s typographical errors today.”
Sigrun blinked. “Remind me not to get on your bad side. Anyway, all that stuff about Emil is great, but I was more wondering, you know, what in Hel’s domain he is .”
“He’s a peacock.”
“A what? ”
“A highly colorful race mostly found in Sweden and parts of Denmark, and they’re pretty rare there too. I’d imagine he’s never met another peacock, with the possible exception of his parents.” Mikkel paused for a moment as the tank ran over a crumbling section of bridge and Tuuri swerved to avoid a large missing chunk of road. “Actually, I’d even doubt that,given the questions he was asking me earlier.”
“Cool, so he’s never met anyone else like him. Neither have I, though, and I would like something a little more useful than just where he came from.”
“Well, he was a certified cleanser, so he’s at least somewhat competent.” The two of them stared at each other for a long, awkward moment, listening to the crunching and creaking of the bridge.
“I did think you’d be interested in what questions he was asking me earlier.”
“Nope, not really, but feel free to share anyway.”
“Well, peacocks have an interesting form of mating behavior where they extend their tails into a wide fanlike display. According to Emil, he’s only done this once, involuntarily, when he met the Hotakainens-- er, the Finns in the train station at Björköfjärden.”
“Bless you.” said Sigrun, grinning. Tuuri looked over at them, curious and blushing, then looked away again.
“Very funny. Anyway, he believes this indicates he’s, er, attracted to one of the two of them, though he declined to reveal which.”
“Hmmmm.” Sigrun glanced over at Tuuri. “Hey, you. Tuuri, wasn’t it?”
“Y-Yes! that’s me!” She seemed more happy to be engaged than surprised.
“How old were you, again?” asked Sigrun. Mikkel gave her a strange look, and opened his mouth to reply, though Tuuri beat him to the punch.
“Oh, I--”
Sigrun leaned across the center console, examining their driver curiously. “Like, 16? Tuuri blushed and turned her eyes to the road again, laughing nervously.
“She’s twenty-one.” said Mikkel.
“Oh! Good!” Sigrun gestured wildly with her hands to disguise her own relief. On the one hand, yeah! There was a chance! But on the other hand, dammit, this wasn’t part of the recruit training. Quick, quick, she needed think of an excuse! “And here I’ve been thinking that you were some kid with barely any experience at all. I’m glad I was wrong!” She turned to Mikkel for a quick aside as Tuuri dodged another pothole. “Well, I guess it really could be either of them.”
“Y-yeah.” Tuuri replied, bringing them back into the middle of the road. “But what about you?”
“What about me?” As Sigrun switched conversational partners, Mikkel sighed and tried to arrange his wings comfortably on the seat. He’d just have to bring her up to date later.
