AN: Just something I'm trying. If people are interested, I'll keep it going. Let me know what you think, and enjoy!
Buile Shuibhne (boo-la heena) because Irish is competing with French for the absolute weirdest way to pronounce words.
Tove (toe-vay)
Chapter One
The song had played on a loop for nearly an hour. The once dulcet tune was warped and unnatural, twisted because of the crash. Laura had pressed the button to shut it off so many times that she put her finger through the dashboard, and still the child-like melody would play.
"Here," Sweeney pointed to a parking lot.
Laura did as he said and guided the crumbling ice cream truck into the parking lot. It was nearly abandoned given the day, but there were still cars scattered throughout. It was Easter Sunday, and yet, people were still getting drunk.
As she threw the vehicle into park, Laura dragged her milky gaze to the man at her side. Mad Sweeney looked anything but happy about where they were. He stared back at the building, the restaurant and bar, with his jaw tight. His lips were set in a tense line.
Silence continued to stretch between them, making the already short-tempered young woman even more so. She had no patience for bullshit, not when they were so close to her getting her life back, and his cryptic attitude wasn't helping things.
"The fuck are we doing here?" She demanded.
Sweeney's hazel eyes flickered to her briefly. With a sigh, he exited the truck. While he untangled himself from the multiple layers of blankets and coats he'd swathed himself with, Laura leapt out of the truck and charged around the twisted front end.
"Why are we here?" She snapped hatefully.
Laura barely had patience when it came to Mad Sweeney at the best of times. When he was obscure or outright silent, that patience disappeared entirely. In fact, it took nearly all of her strength not to physically assault him because if she did, she'd probably kill him.
"We're getting' you fixed up." He finally told her as he slammed his crooked door shut.
"I thought we were already on our way to do that?" She said. Sweeney said nothing as he stepped around the front of the ice cream truck and headed toward the building. "Wait," Laura snapped as she jogged after him. "How many people do you know with this resurrection thing?"
Sweeney shrugged a single shoulder in what was perhaps the most nonchalant response Laura had seen to such a strange question.
"Few, I s'pose." He replied.
Laura couldn't believe her ears. How? Just… how? How was any of it possible?
"Who's this one, hm? Another Jesus?"
Mad Sweeney glanced down at the young woman who didn't even reach his shoulders, staring down his nose at the irritating mass of necrotic flesh given life by his coin.
He reached for the door and paused briefly to say, "My wife."
Laura went still. The world around her stopped at the utterance of two simple words. Mad Sweeney, seemingly amused or at least not surprised by her reaction, disappeared inside leaving her on the sidewalk struggling to wrap her mind around what he'd said.
"W-" She mumbled before her mind seemed to snap to. "Wife?!"
Laura threw open the door to the restaurant and charged in after Sweeney. She spotted him at the bar easily. A ginger man standing a head above those surrounding him was never hard to find. She was at his side in an instant.
"Wife?" she repeated in the same disbelieving tone as before.
Mad Sweeney glanced down at her only briefly. "Yeah," He said with a sharp nod.
The bartender arrived shortly after, while Laura continued to try and wrap her mind around the moment, and slid two drinks forward. Sweeney grabbed the clear glass filled with equally crystalline liquid and offered it to her.
"Here's your Russian piss." He told her.
She didn't bother acknowledging it. Meanwhile, he swallowed mouthfuls of his Southern Comfort and Coke as though he were a man dying of thirst. It was gone in less time than it would have taken to make, the empty glass slammed against the bar's surface an instant later.
"You're married?"
If Laura had attempted to remove the skeptical and –frankly- stunned tone from her voice, she hadn't succeeded. As it was, the tone was actually insulting and his stern expression told her as much. She simply didn't care.
"Yeah," He answered shortly.
"Who, the fuck, would marry you?" Thick, unmistakable derision stained every word. He said nothing as he flagged down the bartender for another drink. As it was poured, Laura continued to press. "Was she drunk?"
Sweeney raised his brows and nodded while a heavy sigh left his lips. "We both was." He admitted. "Still not quite sure how it happened, really." He lifted his glass to his lips. "There were swords and," A look of true confusion took his features as he searched his memory further, "Think we sacrificed a goat."
Laura continued to stare at him in disbelief as he finished off his second drink since they walked through the door only a few minutes prior.
"And that means you're married?"
He didn't reply. Instead, he just stared at her as though her questions were perhaps some of the most mundane he'd ever heard. The expression written across his face angered her. It scratched at something deep within, at an insecurity she'd had most of her life. Laura was used to people looking at her like that, with that dismissive glare because she was too small, or too pretty, or too delicate. As a result, she learned to sharpen her tongue and spit venom when she felt that same ol' insecurity rise.
"So," Her voice was monotone and flat, "She's a troll then." Sweeney narrowed his gaze and tilted his head marginally to the side. "She'd have to be. That's probably why she had to get drunk to marry you, too."
Sweeney responded with a short scoff and a shake of the head. He turned away from her and once more to the bartender. Laura finally reached for her drink and gulped it down easily.
"Tove 'ere?" Sweeney asked the man behind the bar.
"Yeah, in back."
"Then go get 'er." He replied shortly.
The bartender scowled at the rude leprechaun, but did as he was told. Sweeney shook his head as he removed his cigarette rolling supplies from his pocket and began to roll himself a new one.
By the time he'd finished, the back door opened once more and the bartender emerged with, who Laura assumed was, Tove behind him. She wasn't a troll.
The young woman wearing a form-fitting, white, long-sleeved dress glided out of the backroom in a pair of four-inch black stilettos. She moved so fluidly, it made her look otherworldly.
She was beautiful, exuding an almost angelic glow that wasn't lost on Laura. Deep, raven-colored hair was braided and slung over her shoulder. Her heart-shaped face was cut with high cheek bones. Her full lips held a pink hue that the rest of her ivory skin lacked and her unnaturally bright, ice-blue eyes missed nothing.
But she was intimidating, as well. The closer she drew to them, the more Laura realized that the stranger was the same height as Sweeney, towering over those she passed. Her shoulders were broad, her hips the same despite a narrow waist, and undeniably thick thighs strained against the white fabric of her dress. She was built like an Amazon and given the world Laura found herself in, that may be a genuine description.
"Wife," Sweeney greeted the young woman with a sort of cool detachment that seemed odd for a supposedly married couple. But, honestly, Laura was more stunned that the brunette was the woman he supposedly wed. She must have been really drunk.
Her response was quick and to the point. Somehow, without ripping her dress, Tove lifted her leg and slammed her foot into Sweeney's chest. The giant was instantly taken from his feet and sailed through the air, followed by the stunned gasps and gawking faces of the patrons that surrounded them.
He hit the floor hard, groaning as he held the center of his chest. Laura watched as Tove closed the distance between them. She walked up the length of his body and stood over the leprechaun. When Sweeney tried to stand, she planted the toe of her expensive shoe against his chest. He opened his eyes and stared up at her with a furious glare.
"Buile Shuidhne," She said in response. Her voice, smooth and sweet, forced Laura to shudder. A crooked smirk tugged at the corner of Sweeney's lips as he looked up at her. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't beat the shit out of you right now." The soft English lilt made her sound far more innocent than a woman of her size should.
Sweeney chuckled. He folded his arms and propped up his head, making no move to actually fight the woman keeping him pinned to the ground. In fact, he looked content to remain.
"Wish we had time for the foreplay, love, but we're here on business."
Tove's eyes drifted to Laura. It was the first time she'd acknowledged the young woman since appearing, and the moment her eyes fell to the Dead Wife, Laura felt a chill –real and powerful- sweep through her body.
"Well," Tove removed her foot from Sweeney's chest, allowing him to finally rise to his feet. "We'd better handle this upstairs."
Sweeney dusted himself off as best he could and motioned for Laura to follow. She had no intentions of remaining in the restaurant alone where people would be even more aware that her skin was literally falling off her body.
The pair followed Tove through the backroom and up a narrow staircase that led to the second floor. Beyond a thin, stock wooden door, Laura found herself in an apartment. There wasn't much to it, but it was nice, filled with brand new furniture that looked as though it had barely been used, and with windows that let in every hint of light. Sweeney broke off and retired to the dining room table while Tove slinked into the kitchen leaving Laura to explore.
Both the kitchen and dining room were to her left. The living room was directly across from her, and the bedroom was to the right. Everything was open and only interfered upon by a single wall just to the other side of the staircase. Laura rationalized that it was likely the bathroom, or perhaps the door that led to the storage since there was clearly a lot more to the second floor of the building than what she was seeing.
"So," Tove's voice drew Laura back into the moment. The giantess was in the process of taking Sweeney a bottle of dark brown liquid and a pair of glasses. "Why did you bring me a dead girl, hm?"
Sweeney lit his cigarette and inhaled a lungful of smoke before releasing it. With a heavy gaze, he glanced to her.
"Need ya to fix 'er up."
"You're joking, right?"
Sweeney only shook his head. Tove let out a loud, disbelieving scoff. Her long, slender legs carried her easily to Laura's side, where she proceeded to inspect the dead woman as though she were lying on a slab.
"This is beyond my help, Sweeney." Tove said as she picked at the flaps of flesh. "I can't do anything with this, expect perhaps repair it."
"I seen you bring people back before."
"To a freshly dead body." She said in protest. "Still warm to the touch. If I bound her soul to this, she'd still continue to rot. Her body is all but useless now."
"Hey!" Laura had finally snapped. She could no longer take being spoken about as though she weren't there and reacted. She swatted at Tove's hands and shoved the young woman, hard. Sweeney winced, but nothing happened. Tove hadn't even taken a step back.
Laura stared at her hands in shock. Not two hours ago she'd lifted and overturned ice cream truck, so she knew the strength was there, but nothing happened. Tove was unfazed by the outburst.
"Do you want my help, or not?" Tove asked. Her voice was tight, reflecting the agitation that stained her otherwise attractive face.
"What the fuck?" Laura stammered. "How… what the fuck?!"
Tove didn't reply. Instead, she approached Sweeney and patted her back. He rose to his feet and began to unzip her dress like she'd silently demanded.
"This mean yer gonna help?" He asked around the cigarette clamped between his lips.
"Let me change first." She sighed. "If I get embalming fluid or anything else on this dress, I'll never get it off."
When the zipper reached the bottom of the line, she headed for her bedroom. Laura was barely in the moment, still lost in what happened only seconds ago, and charged after her for answers.
"Why didn't I hurt you?" she asked as Tove, with her back to the room, peeled the dress from her body.
"Were you trying to?" She asked casually.
"No, but… that's usually what happens." Laura noticed that within seconds Tove was standing in nothing more than a white thong. "Aren't you going to change in the bathroom or something?"
Her voice held a slight level of embarrassed panic as she spun in her spot to avoid any nudity. Sweeney wasn't as reserved, and happily spied from his seat, though there was little to nothing actually shown. Tove kept her back to the pair as she tugged on a thinly-strapped shirt and pair of cotton shorts. Even if Laura hadn't turned, she barely would have seen anything that registered as a PG-13 rating.
"Why?" Tove asked as she glided past Laura and back into the kitchen. "I have nothing special, and I'm far too old to care about puritanical ideals." Sweeney chuckled at that. "Come here so I can better see you."
Laura did as she was beckoned and this time allowed Tove to look her over. She examined the young woman as best she could with clothing on before apparently deciding on something.
"I can close you up." She said, "And remove whatever maggots have made their home in you. I can even do something about the stench, but as far as bringing you back, that's beyond me."
"That the bes' you can do?" Sweeney chided from his seat.
Tove rolled her eyes and scoffed. "I deal in souls, Shuibhne, not bodies. Lie there," She told Laura, pointing to a bare patch of floor between the kitchen and the living room. "I'm going to gather everything I'll need." She looked at Sweeney, "And you're going to help me."
With a grumble under his breath and a sigh, Sweeney tossed his nearly-finished cigarette into the unused glass Tove had given him, and rose to his feet. She guided him to the random door Laura had spotted, then through. From her position on the floor, Laura only barely caught a glimpse of the inside. It looked like a substantial storage closet.
Within the storage area, Tove searched the shelves for the supplies she'd need in order to repair the dead body in the other room. She needed industrial supplies, things people used to repair houses, but that wasn't her main issue. She was still upset with the man looming behind her.
"I can't believe you brought me a corpse." She said as she searched through the restaurant's calk inventory. "You didn't honestly think I could bring her back, did you?"
He didn't verbally reply, but when she glanced behind her, she noticed him shrug and give her what could only be described as a meh expression.
"Then why bother?" She asked, snatching a tube of white calking from the shelf and handing it to him.
As before, Sweeney remained silent as he followed her through the room. When he still had spoken by the time she grabbed a new roll of duct tape, Tove finally gave him her attention.
Sweeney stared down at her, now able with the removal of her heels, with an expression she couldn't quite identify. It was stuck somewhere between tired and sad. Tove's brows tugged together.
She didn't want to ask what the cause was because the list could have been endless. Instead, Tove stepped closer. She wrapped her arms loosely around his body and pulled him close. Sweeney dropped his forehead until it tenderly fell against her. He threw his arms around her body, and there they stood for untold minutes in complete silence.
"It's never-endin'." He mumbled after a little while of nothing.
Tove reached up and tenderly held his jaw in her hands. She didn't ask him to clarify or delve any deeper into his pain. Instead, she just consoled him as best she could. On some level, Tove already knew what plagued him. Grimnir had that effect on the people around him. He sucked the life out of those he employed, and Sweeney was no different.
After another moment or two, Tove drew back. Sweeney opened his heavy lids and stared down at her. She forced a weak smile at best, tenderly touched his cheek again, then kissed him. Sweeney returned the affection. Part of her wanted to lie and tell him it'd all be over soon, but there was no point. They both knew it wasn't true.
When they parted, the pair finally returned to her apartment. Laura was still lying on the floor and stared at them hatefully. Apparently, they'd been gone too long for her liking. Tove ignored it and grabbed the calking in his hand.
"Go ahead and get something to eat downstairs. Tell them it's on me, hm?" She told the giant.
He nodded and shot Laura a parting glance before disappearing through the door that brought them to the second floor.
When he was gone, Tove knelt down beside Laura and went to work. Laura wanted to protest, but she wasn't entirely certain what to do. So, she laid there, while Tove opened her shirt and exposed her –fully and completely- to the room.
"Are you seriously going to duct tape me?" Laura asked with a cold, even voice.
Tove met her eye and with all sincerity replied, "Yes." She unrolled some duct tape and tore it from the mass. She began to tear it into even smaller strips. "Your skin is rotting. It can't be sewn again because it will rip."
"And… the calking?"
"To fill the holes." She said far too casually for Laura's liking.
"Yeah, well, we're supposed to go get me resurrected later today, so that probably isn't necessary." She said, a little uneasily.
A half-smile twitched at the corner of Tove's lips. "You'd be surprised how quickly flies can work."
Laura grimaced.
The two didn't speak again while Tove went to work. She examined Laura closely and –to Laura's disgust- she began to eventually pluck maggots from her body. Laura cringed and fought the urge to vomit while Tove, as calmly and collectedly as she'd been thus far, retrieved the glass Sweeney had been using as an ashtray and dropped them within.
Laura attempted to keep herself busy for what would most likely be a time-consuming venture. Given she was being "operated" on, the best she could manage was examining her surroundings, and Tove was the closest thing to her.
Her face never changed, even as she dipped into Laura's opened chest to pluck out wiggling bugs. She never flinched, never cringed, never anything. Her nose didn't curl from the smell, either. She was entirely unaffected by the dead body beneath her, which was a surprising enough thing.
When she was finished with Laura's left side, Tove stood and stepped over her, crouching down again at Laura's right to continue. It was only then Laura noticed that Tove had tattoos. The first was substantial, and the black ink should have caught her attention instantly, but Laura rationalized that she'd been too rattled since arriving to see it.
An animal Laura couldn't immediately identify adorned her left arm. It's head was just around the front of her shoulder, not so far as to be on her chest, but forward enough it wouldn't be visible from the side. It proceeded to curled around her shoulder, a bit of her back, and then down the length of her arm where it ended just below her elbow. It was a vicious creature with a winding body and a banner of runes. The shading consisted of a thousand small dots. It was amazing, both in execution and the level of detail. It exuded the same power as the woman wearing it.
Part of it seemed to vanish beneath her shirt, as well. It probably led to something else, but the next tattoo she could see was another animal on her thigh. The second tattoo, she could tell, was a serpent of some kind. Like the first, it coiled around itself, twisted and curled. There was more runic writing, and more stippled shading. It was as impressive as the other.
The pair had two things in common that wasn't lost on Laura. They were both incredibly masculine, and yet suited the young woman completely. Another thing she spotted quickly was their overwhelmingly Viking aesthetic.
Her gaze drifted to the young woman leaning over her. If she noticed, she didn't let on. Instead, Tove began to pull Laura's skin together and affix it into place with strips of duct tape.
"Why didn't you go flying when I pushed you earlier?" Laura asked, seemingly out of nowhere. Given everything she'd seen since meeting Tove, that probably wasn't the most pressing, but it bothered her. A lot. Especially since, while Tove and Sweeney were gone, she bent one of Tove's knives just to prove she could.
Tove's eyes flickered to her briefly before she continued with her work. "The dead have no effect on me." Her voice stayed light and calm. "You'll never be able to harm me."
Laura's brows twitched together briefly. That was such an odd response that it prompted a follow-up question whether she realized it or not.
"What are you?"
Tove took a deep breath and let it out as a gentle sigh. She seemed to muse over something unsaid while she continued to "stitch" Laura's chest together with tape.
"I have a few names." She replied. "I am a Demon of the Dead, a Shield Maiden, and a Chooser of the Slain." Laura felt that icy chill return. "Your Anglo ancestors saw me as an Angel of Death, but where I come from, I'm am simply Valkyrie."
"Valkyrie," Laura repeated with his brows furrowed high. Tove simply nodded. "That means you're a God, too, right?"
Tove curled her nose and tilted her head marginally from left to right. "Not quite. Magical, not a God."
When the tape was tightly affixed and Laura's skin was sufficiently pulled together, Tove reached for the calking gun. She pushed a small bead from the nozzle and began to trail it along Laura's Y incision.
"And you're married to the leprechaun?"
Tove smirked at Laura's tone while she kept her eyes on the task at hand. "We think so."
"How do you not know if you married someone?" She didn't understand how neither person involved couldn't know. Shouldn't one of them have some idea?
"Lots and lots of alcohol." Tove smiled. "Marriage ceremonies were much simpler back then. In some cultures, stepping over a broom holding someone's hand means you're wed. In others, walking clockwise around a certain stone, a tree, or your home means the same. So, yes, we think we're married."
"That's fucking weird." Laura said with a sigh. She reached for her jacket, doing her best not to jostle too much, and removed her cigarettes. She took one out, lit it, and inhaled the noxious smoke. Tove absently pushed the glass closer to her, the one with the ashes and wriggling maggots within. "So, Valkyries have a thing for leprechauns, hm?"
Tove grinned and shook her head a little. Memories of Mad Sweeney, of the man he was, flooded her mind and caused her heart to flutter just a little.
"We have a thing for warriors." She said. "And he was a great warrior." Laura scoffed derisively causing Tove to arch a brow. "Given the world you find yourself in, perhaps you should do a bit more research, hm?" Laura eyed her. "It may help you out in the future."
Tove continued to calk the holes in Laura's skin, helped bind the stitching together so the ever-present flies couldn't wiggle their way in. When she was finished, she set the calking gun aside and gave her work a once over.
"This will take some time to dry. Try to remain still, okay?" She rose to her feet and retrieved something out of sight before returning to Laura's side. She offered the young woman a smart phone. "To keep you busy. I'm going to check on Buile Shuibhne."
Laura tenderly took the offered piece of tech. "Why do you keep calling him that?"
"Because it's his name." She replied simply. "I'll be back in a little while."
Laura nodded, though she wasn't sure why, and watched as Tove disappeared through the door. When she was gone, Laura clamped her cigarette between her teeth and unlocked the smart phone. Perhaps trying to find out everything she could about her current company wasn't such a bad idea.
