Sylvie Laufeydottir (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
the_variant) wrote2024-09-01 09:55 pm
the_variant) wrote2024-09-01 09:55 pm
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Spending the day as a man is exhausting.
Though it has yet to work in Darrow, Sylvie is convinced one day her alter ego -- she's called him Dan and he works at City Hall and no one actually knows what he does, but they all like him -- will yield some kind of results. Some information someone doesn't want the rest of them to know, the transplants from elsewhere. Because Dan, like so many others, has always been in Darrow.
Still, she doesn't especially like being Dan. He's handsome and he's charming and he's funny. He's also non-threatening. Women laugh at his jokes, men invite him out for beers with the guys. It's all so generic and boring and mundane, and not in the way she's come to enjoy. Dan would never be caught dead somewhere like Hideout, where Sylvie has been half a dozen times since the vampire's show. Dan doesn't stomp around like Sylvie does, Dan doesn't listen to loud music, he drinks Darrow's equivalent to Coors light and he sure as hell isn't in a relationship with more than one person.
Dan's single. He'll always be single. That's just easier for Sylvie to deal with.
Sylvie is not single, however, and as she stomps into the townhouse, still wearing Dan, she knows at least one of her two men is present. He's seen her in this form more than a few times, so she knows he won't be startled by the angry blond man suddenly slamming cabinets in their kitchen and she should revert back to her preferred form, but there's something more satisfying about slamming things with a big stupid man's hand.
Which she does. Vigorously.
Though it has yet to work in Darrow, Sylvie is convinced one day her alter ego -- she's called him Dan and he works at City Hall and no one actually knows what he does, but they all like him -- will yield some kind of results. Some information someone doesn't want the rest of them to know, the transplants from elsewhere. Because Dan, like so many others, has always been in Darrow.
Still, she doesn't especially like being Dan. He's handsome and he's charming and he's funny. He's also non-threatening. Women laugh at his jokes, men invite him out for beers with the guys. It's all so generic and boring and mundane, and not in the way she's come to enjoy. Dan would never be caught dead somewhere like Hideout, where Sylvie has been half a dozen times since the vampire's show. Dan doesn't stomp around like Sylvie does, Dan doesn't listen to loud music, he drinks Darrow's equivalent to Coors light and he sure as hell isn't in a relationship with more than one person.
Dan's single. He'll always be single. That's just easier for Sylvie to deal with.
Sylvie is not single, however, and as she stomps into the townhouse, still wearing Dan, she knows at least one of her two men is present. He's seen her in this form more than a few times, so she knows he won't be startled by the angry blond man suddenly slamming cabinets in their kitchen and she should revert back to her preferred form, but there's something more satisfying about slamming things with a big stupid man's hand.
Which she does. Vigorously.
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Tipping a finger under her chin and looking down at her familiar face, he smirked faintly and said, "Well, hello."
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She prefers men like Loki and Bucky, dark hair, sharp angles, more prone to a scowl or a smirk than a proper smile, but she's had favourable reactions to Dan in general.
"I'll have you know, he had two invitations for after work drinks today," she informs Loki.
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His hand was gentle in her hair, pushing blonde strands of it back from her face.
"Well, were they worth considering?"
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Were she on her own entirely, maybe she'd have considered the offers. There are plenty of places Sylvie can imagine herself without Loki and Bucky, but none of them are even half as appealing as what she actually has. A stunning thought, most of the time, even now.
"I was hoping I'd find out something more about this Purge," she admits. "I'm not worried about us, but Hilde..." She shrugs. It's difficult for her to admit what the girl means to her.