@anchorsfm
Warrior Nun Season One Episode Five
Isaiah 30:20-21
Signe bit her bottom lip, fighting a smile as Charlie painted a picture of his past self. “Don’t you worry, Charlie Hughes,” she murmured, tilting her head up to look as him with mock irritation. “I absolutely believe you were a menace. All the proof I need is glittering right there in those eyes of yours.” She pointed an accusing finger at him before letting her fingers brush his side in a teasing, fond gesture. Charlie leaned closer, and Signe giggled, her cheeks flushing pleasantly. “I mildly enjoy your presence under very specific circumstances.”
Her face softened as he asked for her interpretation of her sexuality and the label that she chose. She gave him a gentle smile and nodded, her fingertips tracing absent-mindedly along his arm as they swayed. “For me, it’s not so much about how someone looks although I won’t say it has no part. It’s more about the way someone makes me feel, how their mind works, how they move through the world.” Signe’s voice was sure, but thoughtful, like she was still discovering her own definition as she spoke. “I’ve been equally attracted to softness and sharpness, masculinity, femininity, androgyny…” She shrugged her shoulders as her words trailed off, a slow smile forming on her lips. “It’s like art.”
His hands came up to cradle her face and Signe’s eyes searched his. “Yeah, tell me about it… if I had known the Florida humidity was a part of the self-discovery package, with this hair? I would’ve asked to stay in Sweden,” she joked. But then she gently wrapped her hands around his wrists, grounding herself in the moment. The teasing in her voice faded a touch. “It was hard, being a teenager in a place where I already felt like I stuck out didn’t really help with figuring any of that out. But it all made me, me, right? I think the journey was worth it.” She licked her lips, a bit of nervous energy at being so honest, so soon. Charlie made her feel safe, made her share too much too soon, but he didn’t seem to shy away from any of that. You’re safe with me. Always.
She listened closely, hearing the words he didn’t say as he gave her a peek into what his adolescence was like. “I get that. The whole…being shaped by expectations thing. It’s exhausting. Spending years unlearning versions of yourself that other people wrote for you before you even had a chance to hold the damn pen.” Her thumbs stroked the back of his hand, lifting it to press a gentle kiss to the inside of his wrist. “I think it says a lot that you did unlearn it, though. A lot of people never even try.” Signe tilted her head and offered him a half-smile. “And for what it’s worth … I’m pretty glad I met this version of you.”
His lips brushing against her head made her eyes flutter shut for a moment, butterflies swarming in her belly. She didn’t answer his question right away. She instead took a steadying breath and prepared herself to say things she didn’t usually say aloud. Then, her voice barely above a whispered, eyes focusing on the buttons of his shirt. “I’m afraid that I’ll do all this self-exploration and discovery only for it to still not be enough. Not for my parents – God knows they would never set out to make me feel like that but – for myself. That no matter how much I do, I won’t think it’s enough for the love I’ve been given.”
Her fingers curled gently into the fabric of his shirt as if it were an anchor. “I’m afraid that those feelings will chase away something good because who wants to deal with someone who second-guesses themselves so often?” The final words came out as a whisper as if she was still too scared to say them any louder. Signe finally looked up at him then, her eyes wide, shining and vulnerable. “So…that’s what I’m scared of.”
"You think I’m insufferable now?" Charlie grinned, eyes glittering with mischief. "You should’ve seen me back then. I were a huge menace. My mates would back me up on that. I could ring any of 'em up right now and they'll tell you I were a proper little shit. Marketable, quick on the field, but absolutely relentless to be around. Especially for my mum." He leaned in a bit, voice lowering just enough to tease. "But you think I still get away with it, don’t you?" His smile curled, playfully cocky. "Oh, so you proper like me."
The teasing faded into something quieter as he listened to her. Charlie’s expression softened, and his fingers traced gentle circles at her back. "Can I ask what pansexual means for you?" He asked gently, not wanting to prod, just trying to understand her a little better. "I’m still learnin’, yeah? Like, I get the idea.. but I’d rather hear how it feels from you." He gave a small, self-deprecating laugh. "Movin’ halfway across the world on top of that, tryin’ to figure yourself out in the middle of it all… Shit, puberty in a foreign country, that really sounds rough. I'm glad it led you to here, though.." He paused, lifting both hands to her face, thumbs brushing her cheeks, "Thank you for tellin' me that, yeah? For trustin' me enough with that personal information. I know it’s not easy, but you’re safe with me, alright? Always. Means a fuckin' lot. Genuinely."
He smiled down at her with a laugh as she pictured him as a tween. "You have no idea. I was gettin' myself into all kinds of trouble. Granddad really put that movie in the wrong hands. Led to many-a-confrontations." He shook his head, she hadn't known the half of it. On top of his new obsession with the mob, Charlie was also going through a period of getting really good at football and getting really angry with his father. Defenses grew quickly; sarcasm and goofing off becoming an easy deflection. He hadn't fully realized just how much work he'd put into changing who he used to be until he was here, thinking back with a girl who would've never given him the time of day if she had known him then. "Took me years to unlearn all the shit that got built around me.. being told who I’m supposed to be before I ever had a say."
His voice dropped as he kissed the crown of her head, holding her for a beat before whispering, "Signe, what are you still afraid of?" The question wasn’t casual. It was quiet, weighty, like he was asking her to hand him something delicate, and he was ready to hold it with both hands. His blue eyes stayed fixed on her, waiting.
Signe had come up behind her mother, recognizing the woman was in the middle of a painting session and waited to be acknowledged. When her mother spoke, Signe chuckled. “You say rusty as if that’s not one of the most stunning paintings I’ve ever seen,” she teased, tilting her head to observe the landscape that she had been working on. “It’s really good, Mamma.” And it was good to see her mother allowing herself the small pleasures of being creative. While Sigrid Holmström was extremely analytical, she was also an intensely creative soul and Signe had credited her mother more than once for her own artistic streak.
who: sigrid & open @palmviewstarters where: the painting station
when sigrid had heard that there would be a painting station , she'd been very excited. it wasn't that often that she brought out her paints these days but it was a freeing activity that always helped calm her busy mind. she'd been sitting in front of her canvas for little over an hour and the landscape she'd been creating had slowly been taking shape. "this was such a nice event ," sigrid said. "i feel a little rusty , but it's getting somewhere."
When Charlie pulled her close, Signe ducked her head slightly, trying to hide her pleased smile at his reaction to her words and her touch. “So, you’re saying I affect you?” she asked with a playful tilt of her head. “You seem to be doing a pretty good job of surviving the night so far.” By some miracle, Signe was doing a decent job of keeping it together herself. She wasn’t sure how her heart hadn’t leapt straight out of her body at this point. The warmth in Charlie’s voice and the tenderness in his smile, even the way he brushed their noses together – it was all so dizzying in the best way. His quiet declarations and the way he kept opening up to her – allowing himself to be vulnerable – was more than she had ever expected for this date. She liked the way that he softened for her, like he was making a choice and peeling back layers he didn’t offer just anyone. It was absolutely undoing her. So, instead of teasing him, she offered him some vulnerability in return. “You don’t have to be better for me, Charlie. Although, the fact that you want to is…” Signe smiled, shaking her head. “You can’t be so perfect all at once.” “Oh, don’t fuss. You look perfect!” A squeal escaped her lips as his arm wrapped around her middle and he lifted her off the ground. Her feet touched back down and she erupted into giggles, leaning into the kisses he pressed to her cheek. Her breath hitched slightly and her eyes flared with heat at the sound of his voice dropping low and his hands traced up her hips. There was a boldness to Charlie’s touch that might have sent her running on another night with someone else. But with him, the touch was grounding. She hummed, turning in his arms to face him better. “You weren’t ready for a selfie – you think you’re ready for a second date?” she teased. Signe raised an eyebrow at him as Charlie laid it all out like he was confident she wouldn’t say no. Sound like a plan? He was too charming for her own good. “Yes, Chef,” she grinned, biting down on her lip. “I’m not the best in the kitchen, but I am a quick learner.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, her stare playful but steady. “But just so we’re clear–I’m not responsible if your very serious process gets totally derailed by me being in your kitchen…or your lap.” She offered him a cheeky grin, her eyes dancing. “You’re really gonna let me pick dessert, though? Whatever I want?”
Charlie’s breath caught somewhere between a laugh and a groan as her fingers danced over his chest, her touch light but loaded. His heart-rate hadn't failed to speed up as she teased him back, her own playful nature shining now. Charlie cleared his throat, hand around her waist tugging her a bit closer, "Well if you keep doin' that, I'll end up makin' declarations I shouldn't be makin' yet." He hummed, his chest rising and falling with the weight of their proximity. "Sayin’ things like that with your hand there.. how am I supposed to survive the night without makin’ a complete idiot of myself?"
Her words, her kiss, the quiet way she spoke about liking who she was around him, it all knocked the wind out of his chest. He smiled, but softer now. Not the cocky grin he wore like armor, but something honest. "Well, I like who I am when I’m with you too." He tilted his head just enough so his nose brushed hers. "Feels like I get to breathe a little easier." He shivered at the feeling of her fingers skimming along his collarbone and tensed, not out of discomfort, but because of how good it felt, how easily she undid him. Charlie instinctively clenched his jaw, the muscles tightening under her touch. His lips parted in a slow breath, "That version of me we’re talkin’ about.." He stared into Signe's eyes, seriousness painting his face, "I ain't gonna be like I used to with you, Signe.. this is different. You make me wanna be even better."
And then she spun in for the selfie and all the heat broke into laughter. He barely had time to register what was happening before she was taking pictures, and he leaned into her with a surprised laugh, cheeks aching from smiling, "Oi! Warn a bloke next time! My hair’s not even fixed!" Charlie laughed out, one arm quickly wrapping around Signe's waist to steady her against his body while the other slipped through his hair. His laugh rang out, fingers gripping at her side as he lifted her up with the one arm, "Unfair, I wasn't ready!" He smiled wider, peppering a few kissing to her cheek as he placed her back down. Charlie rest his chin on her shoulder, watching with her as she'd scrolled through the pictures. When she turned back with that look in her eye, he caught it and raised an eyebrow in response, "Unhinged, you say?" His hand slid teasingly along her hip. "I'm always interested in unhinged, Holström... But if you leave it up to me, we might need to solidify that second date.. I told ya, I'm doin' it right with you."
He let the suggestion linger for a moment, then leaned in again, closer, softer, his voice dropping just enough to make the air between them buzz. "What do you think about a quieter second date? We skip the crowd, yeah? You come over, I’ll cook us somethin’ proper... Or.. Better idea, you help me cook. You can be my sous chef. I’ll show you a few tricks, teach you how to plate like we’re servin’ in a Michelin kitchen, and you can mock my very serious process." His smirk tugged at one side of his mouth as his hand slid across her stomach, both hands now landing on either of her hips. "Then we queue up that movie of yours, get cozy, and if you’re lucky... I might even let you pick dessert.. it's typically a specific menu for me, but you seem to like mixin’ things up.." A beat, his eyes locked on hers. "Sound like a plan?"
Celine's expression shifted, barely concealing her amusement. Her eyes glanced down at the basket in his hand with several well-worn books. "Books," she noted, a hint of approval slipping into her voice. "I'm surprised you managed to find that many in a shop like this." His sudden lava lamp factoid made her blink once and then let out a laugh, slightly incredulous. "Astro lamps, huh?" she echoed, folding her arms. "That kind of sounds like the name of a failed disco band from the seventies. I kinda love that." She leaned against one of the nearby display tables and tilted her head at the boy. "Are you always full of obscure trivia, or is today just my lucky day?" she asked.
Henry looked up as he heard the woman speak, wondering if she was actually conversing with him or just thin air. And then she turned to him, causing his cheeks to color up a little bit as her eyes unexpectedly met his. “Well--” Before he really had time to voice his opinion on the sunglasses, she was asking him another question. A faint smile touched his lips as she spoke, though his nose wrinkled just slightly at the idea of couches with suspicious stains. “Well, none of those,” he admitted, and held up the basket that was dangling from one hand, which was full of books. Mostly paperbacks, a few hardcover, many with yellowing pages. He glanced around the store before his eyes turned back to her. “Did you know lava lamps were originally called Astro Lamps and originated in the UK?”
Signe could feel the world narrow just to him. He finally let go of her hand and she barely had time to mourn the loss before he was pulling her closer, arm slipping around her and his palm settled against her side. She could swear she felt every place their bodies touched light up in response. Her eyes met his instinctively, and the way he was looking at her simply knocked the breath straight out of her lungs. For the briefest of moments, her mind scrambled for all the little rules she normally clung to. Don’t kiss on the first date being one of the very first ones. She liked to take her time and keep her heart safe, but all of that crumbled when she looked at him, when she saw the unguarded way he looked at her. So, yeah, she was tossing that rulebook right out the window. He leaned in and Signe was overcome with the dizzying realization that Charlie wasn’t teasing anymore. When he kissed her, it was so careful and unbearably gentle. It was so light that it almost didn’t feel real at first, a question more than a demand. Signe answered it before she could second-guess herself, tilting her mouth into his and her hand sliding up instinctively to rest against the side of his neck, her thumb tracing along his jaw. She kissed him back with the same kind of reverence he showed her. The kiss wasn’t messy or rushed – it was slow and steady like an unspoken promise. When they finally broke apart, just enough to breathe, Signe stayed tucked against him, her fingers sliding down to rest against his chest and feel his heartbeat beneath her palm. Her shining eyes met his and there was no teasing left in her smile, only wonder. “Well,” she whispered, her voice low and raw. “That’s one way to take responsibility I suppose.” Signe bit on her lip to keep her grin from growing wider.
Charlie couldn’t help the delighted laugh that slipped from him, the sound low and warm, as he watched Signe struggle to find her footing. There was something impossibly endearing about the way she stumbled over her words, like he had pulled some invisible thread too taut between them without even meaning to. “I don’t recall sayin’ you had to function,” he teased, his voice lighter now, colored with something almost reverent as his grin pulled wider. His eyes scanned her face like he was committing her to memory—each flush of pink across her cheeks, each flicker of emotion that crossed her eyes.
“So we agree then,” Charlie continued, a playful tilt to his mouth, “I get to stare, and all’s well and good, yeah?” And he was staring, there was no use denying it. His gaze softened as Signe, overwhelmed, ducked against his shoulder for a breath of relief. He let her hand go only to slip his arm around her back, his palm settling against her side like it had always belonged there. Charlie’s heart beat a little harder at the way she smiled up at him, a smile that wrecked him without even trying.
For a moment, he just looked at her, unguarded, as if reading a language only he could understand. His breath caught when her eyes met his, shining and vulnerable and stunning. “I can definitely take responsibility,” he murmured, his voice dropping so low it was barely a whisper between them, the space between their mouths disappearing with each unspoken word. Charlie lifted a hand, threading his fingers into her hair as he cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing softly along her jaw. His forehead barely touched hers, grounding them both. “I’ll take responsibility for this,” he whispered against her lips, and with a real, genuine smile, he closed what was left of the very little space between them, his kiss featherlight at first, a tentative question.
⇢ 🌸 STATUS ﹕ closed. ⇢ 🌸 TAGGING ﹕signe + sigrid!! (@ofelation) ⇢ 🌸 LOCATION ﹕ palmview university.
Signe made her way up the familiar staircase of the humanities building with a to-go iced coffee in one hand and a wax paper bag in the other containing a cinnamon bun. A peace offering, if she was being honest with herself. Signe didn't visit her mother's office often, not because she didn't love visiting her mom, but because Sigrid Holmström was a consummate professional. The girl had always felt guilty about disrupting her mother's crisp, orderly and polished world at the university. Switching the coffee to her other hand, she knocked twice on the office door before opening it without waiting for a reply. “Professor Holmström,” Signe began, her voice full of playful formality. “I come bearing caffeine and carbs. And maybe a bit of daughterly guilt. You free for a little break?”
“…Then I’ll stretch, maybe sketch, take a climb… sew a dress!”
She clinked her glass against his, smiling as she took a sip. Signe allowed herself to be led to the living room and sat on the couch in front of the television. It warmed her heart that he was so excited, that he had actually put thought and effort into the silly little game she’d thought up. She felt his hand brush against her knee as they settled into their seats and simply scooted closer. Charlie gave her a sheepish look, begging her to be gentle and she couldn’t help but lean in to brush her lips against his cheek. “Don’t worry, you’re safe with me,” she murmured, the words not light-hearted but not quite teasing. She was being honest with him, but she wanted some of the tension in his shoulders to ease.
Signe felt the shift the moment Nothing started to play – the way Charlie settled into the cushions like he was bracing for impact. She didn’t say anything, just let the song speak for itself. The first category was the song that made them think of each other. The way he picked this one first made her chest ache in a way that surprised her. She felt her eyes sting at the raw vulnerability the song displayed. She glanced at him, but he wasn’t looking at her. So, she just reached and brushed her fingers along the back of his hand. She didn’t press for a look or a smile, just letting him know that she was here.
The second song, Seventeen Going Under, came on and she nodded as he explained. Something boat it felt like something Charlie would have had in his headphones as a teenager. She could feel the old bruises tucked under every lyric. She cracked a smile the second Red Wine Supernova started, recognizing the song immediately. “I would never judge your hyperpop era,” she teased. “Honestly, it’s a little hot picturing this on your running music set.” She watched him sway along, foot tapping and warmth filled her. She playfully bumped his knee and gave her a cheeky little smile.
The opening to My Boo pulled a surprised laugh from her. She looked at him as he explained why it had made the list. “Of course you would start impromptu Usher dance breaks at work.” Signe giggled into her wine glass, but her smile was soft. She was definitely storing this little factoid to pull out randomly as some point in the future. The final song started playing – the one whose category she’d thrown in on a whim – and Signe just sat there, listening intently. This was a version of him that no one else got to see.
When his playlist finished, she set her glass down and reached for his hand again, this time holding it properly. “Charlie, that was –” she stopped herself before she got too earnest to fast, her eyes flicking to the TV. “Spectacular. I can’t believe you made that for me.” She squeezed his hand, and then the corners of her mouth quirked up into a grin. She reached for the remote and started queuing hers up. “Alright, Mr. Emotionally Rinsed… I don’t know if my playlist will hold a candle to yours, but the gentle rule applies to you as well!”
First up was Think I Wanna See You Again by Grace Enger. She offered up no explanation, but her cheeks heated immediately. The first time she’d heard the song, there was only one face and name that had come to mind. The same face that she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about since they’d crossed paths in the art district. It was almost as if she could have written the lyrics herself, and it left Signe feeling terribly exposed.
Up next was White Houses by Vanessa Carlton. She smiled softly, only braving to look at Charlie from the corner of her eye. “I’ve got a thing for singer/songwriter vibes, you’ll notice. Vanessa Carlton is queen.” She paused briefly. “This song also felt incredibly relevant to me when I first moved to the United States. Like you said for your song, I identified with the song so much, it’s just an all-time favorite of mine.”
Then, the familiar notes of Mamma Mia filled the room. Only it wasn’t ABBA’s original, but the cover by A*Teens. Signe laughed and buried her face in her hands. “Okay, this is more a guilty pleasure because of the group,” she said, glancing at him. “I’m a true Swede so, of course, my parents brought me up on ABBA, but A*Teens was this whole project to bring ABBA’s music to a younger generation and it was a whole moment in my life.”
The fourth song was Night Changes by One Direction, but the live acoustic version. Signe had grown up at the peak of 1D-mania, but she had always gravitated to the soft, more intimate cuts. She would never admit how often she still plays this song but she still smiled. “I was a total Directioner as a kid, and when I tell you I sobbed when Zayn left the group, it was world-shattering for me,” she admitted with a soft chuckle at her younger self.
Then finally came Dangerous Woman by Ariana Grande. “You didn’t misinterpret at all” was all that she murmured, leaning back into the couch and into Charlie’s side, almost as if she could hide from the words that she was putting out there between them. One would think after Kissin’ On My Tattoos, she would no longer be embarrassed, but who said she was logical? As the song came to an end, Signe cleared her throat, pushing her hair back behind her ears. “So there you have it, I’m still not completely happy with it but that’s me in playlist format.”
Charlie laughed at her comment, cheeks flushing even as he tried to mask it with a sip of wine. Of course she could tell how eager he was, how much this playlist thing meant to him. She saw through him with terrifying ease. It was thrilling and slightly disarming. "Alright, fine," he muttered with mock defeat, tapping the rim of his glass against hers. "I am very excited. No one’s ever made me do a playlist like this before, alright? I’m emotionally compromised." He took the glass, tipping the rim against hers in a clink. "I have the order written down, so we can go through it." He took a sip, then gave her a crooked grin before tipping his head toward the couch. "Come on. We’ll set it up on the telly. Proper presentation and all that. Like a tasting menu, just… with musical emotional baggage." He grabbed the crostini on the way out, a proud smile resting on his lips.
Once they were settled, he scrolled through his Xbox to pull up the songs, his hand briefly brushing against her knee as he reached for the remote. It lingered a second longer than it needed to, nothing overly dramatic, just that electric, I know you’re here and I like that you are kind of touch. "Alright then," he exhaled, suddenly more serious, almost sheepish. "Signe Holmström. This is me barin’ my soul. If I start cryin’ halfway through, just pretend I’ve got allergies or somethin’, yeah? Be gentle with my heart."
The first notes of Nothing by Bruno Major filled the room, and his posture shifted, shoulders tucked in slightly, like he could make himself smaller while the words did the talking. His hands fiddled with the edge of his sleeve as the lyrics poured out everything he hadn’t had the nerve to say aloud. He didn’t dare look at her until the song ended, but when he did, it was with a quiet, searching softness.
Next was Seventeen Going Under by Sam Fender. That one, he could explain. "Grew up with this one in my bones," he murmured, voice low. "First time I heard it I kinda freaked at how me it felt.. It’s angry and sad and weirdly hopeful. Like.. I dunno, like ‘yeah, it’s all gone to shit, but I’m still runnin'.." He chuckled, but it didn’t quite hide the way his thumb kept rubbing his knuckles.
Then came Red Wine Supernova. Charlie shot her a look, cheeky again now. "Right. Don’t judge. This is my guilty pleasure. No idea what she’s even singin’ about half the time but, God, it gets in my blood." He tapped his foot along to the beat, shoulders swaying and grinning to himself before casting her a quick glance. "It’s good runnin’ music. Good tryin’ not to think music. The girl can sing."
The fourth song was My Boo. The instant the intro played, he let out a laugh, leaning his head back on the cushion. "This one’s just joy, innit? Played all the time in the kitchen at work when we’re preppin’. I started it back in France, had a mate there that also loved Usher and it became a tradition. Makes everyone start dancin’. And by everyone, I mean me." He turned to her with a flash of that grin that meant I’m letting you in on something no one else gets.
Then came the last one. The one that sat a little heavier in his chest. Kissin’ On My Tattoos. He didn’t give an explanation this time. Just stared ahead for a long moment, hands folded between his knees as the smooth, intimate melody filled the room. When it ended, he looked over at her. Not cocky. Not even teasing. Just honest. "I'm hopin' I didn't misinterpret what ya meant with that," he said quietly. "But it is what I think about at two in the mornin'.." He chuckled lightly now, a bit of tension leaving his chest.
Then, finally, he looked back at her, smile pulling gently at the corner of his mouth. "So… that’s me. Emotionally rinsed and dried. Winnin' the race." He bumped her knee gently with his. "Your turn, love. But fair warnin’.. you cry and I’m makin’ you a cuppa and wrappin’ you in a blanket whether you like it or not." There was a gleam in his eye, a flicker of nerves under the humor. But he wasn’t running from it. Not this time. Not with her.
Signe smiled at the warmth on the woman’s expression at the mention of her aunt. “Made of lot of friendship bracelets in your time?” she asked, jokingly. She pondered her comparison to threading a needle and hummed to herself. Her eyes followed her nimble fingers as they steadily worked on the knotted mess. “I guess I see the similarities, even if my fingers haven’t quite grasped it yet.”
“i have my aunt to thank for that,” she smiles at the other softly, nails hard at work on the tangled mess of string. most of her fond memories of london include sitting around the table, beading jewlery with her aunt and cousin. those days, though, were long gone, living in fleeting moments of memory yet still held just as dear. a light chuckle at her joke, looking up from the mess for only a second. “isn't string just plastic thread ? once you figure out how not to drop it every five seconds, it's basically like threading a needle over and over again.”
resoluxe \ˈre-zə-ˌluks\ 1. the quality of resolving a challenge or decision with sophistication, elegance, and luxury.
84 posts