so our girl somehow got herself knocked up by her viking and as such is finally determined to repay her debt to that voodoo queen she calls scary mary.
i get the sneaking suspicion she did not mean for me to know. about the getting knocked up i mean.
partly because she said to me, 'i was not going to tell you, nevermore.'
really though, she should know better than to expect privacy just because she closed a door. closed doors scream, 'open me, nevermore, for behind me is something you are not supposed to know.'
i had just such an encounter, of the closed kind, not three days before we vacated the house. after some trouble with me talons i got the door open - i've asked our girl repeatedly not to shut them, by the way. she knows doorknobs are difficult for me - and she was standing next to a machine, shirtless, goopy stuff on her belly. staring at a monitor. two little blobs on the screen. kinda looked like fish. if you listened close you could hear these little swishy noises like hummingbirds.
now, i am only a bird and as such lack a medical degree but i have seen an episode or two of 'house.' i know what an ultra-sound is and i know what they are generally used for.
i hopped over by her feet, peering up. guess i startled her. she jumped a little.
her eyes were wet.
'fuck, never. do you knock?' oi, she was already hostile. time to diffuse her with my avian charm.
'not on account of a lack of knuckles, love. plus that time i tried knocking with me beak, the door didn't fare so well. you uh... that mean what i think?' i inquired subtly.
'it means i'm screwed,' she sighed.
'well yeah, love, i do know where your screaming human baby creatures come from.'
she looked at me like she was gonna hit me. woman's got a temper even on the best of days.
'so uh... you told your viking, right?'
'yeah i told gunnar,' she emphasized his name. like i bloody don't know he's got one.
i think it's a stupid idea for the two to go at all, nevermind alone, but laurel's all determined that someone has to go save the two stooges over in germany. she didn't call them stooges. 'at's my line.
she talked nate into hopping the pond. i heard her use some line about how mary might break her and if nate bought that i wonder if she sold him a bridge to go with that finely crafted crockery, for laurel ain't a woman what's afraid of being broken, for the record. far as i know she ain't afraid of nothing. she's been beaten, burned and shot and can tell you just what it sounds like when a child's eyeball pops from the heat of a fire. she described it to me, once. put me off my appetite for a spot.
didn't break her, though. she told me once, laying in that burning house and listening to the sound of people cooking, she remembers wishing she would die. not that she thought she was going to, just that she knew it would have been easier than dealing with what came next. but our girl is hard, if not impossible to break. (don't tell her i said that, her ego is right gargantuan as it is, and hanging out with the viking is only making it worse.)
er... and i might have let it slip to nate about laurel's condition on the car ride out to wolfsheim. that conversation might have gone, if it did go, as such:
bird: oi, yer all commendable, nate. letting a pregnant woman go off to the underworld so you can save your chums.
(i was not being snarky, i was just surprised he was so dedicated to his mates that he'd let laurel go with just her viking. not that he's not enough, mind, and please don't tell him i said that. he pops his knuckles and i think the world shudders.)
n: wait, what? she's pregnant?!?
bird: bollocks. um, nevermore?
nate and i have worked out a system. i believe, after a couple of exchanges in this fashion that he understands that 'nevermore' is a very subtle and very complicated code for 'i-have-opened-my-fucking-beak-when-i-ought-not-to-have-and-my-life-is-now-forfeit-don't-tell-laurel.'
nate and i comprise the rescue squad, good cop and better cop.
i do believe we are all going to die here.
irish has a head start on us at that, like he already got started with the dying. nate and i caught up with him in some trees. lots of bloody trees in these parts.
bloody cos' irish was bleeding. surprise.
seriously, how many pints does this one have?
well i can tell you how many he's had, just by the smell of him.
but for fuck's sake, yer comrades are knocked out and yer all on yer lonesome and ye decide to do a solo recon flight mission over werewolf country?
well, s'what irish did. and s' not like he can say he didn't know they were armed. they run a munitions factory - as one might logically suspect, this factory is itself guarded by anti aircraft munitions. oi.
also, nate likes talking to rods, if you catch my meaning. i mean he's one'a them am-at-sue-commie an' he literally talked to a silver rod. you bloody perv.
we eventually joined up with um... i dunno how she spells her name. kee-ra. new irish. no, 'at's not right. crazy jr. she-bruiser. something will fit, eventually. we found her, and a new blonde guy who has since made himself scarce. smart for him, i don't really think i should let him and the viking alone in the same place for long on account of old family history. blondie talked about goblins when we met him. i think he might be a little off his tits, to be honest.
but then, we're the ones who wandered into a terra incognita and started trying to negotiate with werewolves. werewolves who were nazis.
nazi werewolves are just as awful as they sound, should you find yourself wondering.
seems from the research, and a conversation our intrepid deputy had with the mayor, they have some yearly festival that revolves around the abduction and consumption of small children. pity laurel weren't here to tear them up for such a thing. after some arguing an' subterfuge an' bickering an' ninnying they - irish, she-ra, deputy and blondie - came up with a plan.
couldn't tell you what the plan was. didn't really care, especially since nobody said 'an' here's the part where nevermore swoops in an' saves the day.' i quite lost interest after that realization.
an' i'm not really sure how the plan went so wrong, like nothing happened the way it should have. though maybe i could tell you where things went wrong if i'd been paying attention. i was too busy, on the advice of some goblins, bathing meself in pine cones.
but nobody bothered removing the civvies, for one thing. probably would have been helpful.
oh an' nate cut a guy's head off. certainly did not help to facilitate any diplomatic relations.
so now i am stuck here in doytchland with nate. i talked to him about going home, i worry about our girl. i mean, if it weren't for the viking i don't know how she would get along without me at all, really.
i also talked to him about making good on a promise to gift me with certain libations after our bout against caleb in new orleans. the one where laurel and viking almost got themselves killed. but after nate told me he was not in fact going to be giving me that bottle of jack, and he reminded me of the girl's temper (and i remembered that i'm going to have to tell her i told nate) i maybe could stand to stay and help out with these amish like folk. for a long while. maybe nate's lady wants a new pet bird, she seemed nice and stable and quite sane.