It was a long, semi-painful walk back towards the Hollow. Too much movement was bothering the shoulder wound, but thankfully it's been at least partially healed by this point so it isn't as bad as it could be. It's a long journey up towards the hollow, but eventually he makes the climb up towards the front door.
Weaver lets his arm slump to the side the nearer he gets home. No point putting on a big show of being fine for any potential threats when he approaches the giant bolder that works both as lock and door for the Hollow. When inside the Vault he pauses, gaze stuck on the burgeoning plantlife there. "Well, at least I know Velvet's been through. Either that or Dani's garden doesn’t' need as much help as I thought." He shrugs, the act bringing a bit of pain to his arm, but he soldiers forward until back inside his home.
As Weaver starts to move towards the gate that leads back home, he realizes quickly that there's a load of fertilizer for the plants already there. And by fertilizer, it of course means that there's a pair of dead bodies. The pair don't look anything alike. A man with a shock of electric blue hair, streaked with white. He's tall and lanky and it looks like his throat has been slashed out by a set of claws. More claw marks rake other parts of his body. He's dressed in leathers, though they're torn and bloody. The other is a woman, short and stocky in jeans and a t-shirt with a single bullet hole through her temple.
Weaver wavers at the door, longer than usual. After a moment's hesitation he closes the door, slowly but surely. When it's closed he turns back around to give the bodies a closer look. He crouches, first looking over the woman with a bullet in her head. As curious as that may be he then moves to the man, and studies over all over those claw marks.
The only thing that the two bodies seem to really have in common are scars. They don't have the same ones and none are in the same places, but they both have quite a few of them. Neither of the pair seem at all familiar to Weaver, but there's something tickling at the back of his mind. Something obvious that he just isn't seeing.
Weaver stays there staring. Long enough so that he has to make sure he isn't losing his mind as he stands back up. "Brought here by Velvet." Beat. "They have to be." Despite his own assurance he stops, muttering to himself again. "Velvet ain't that sloppy. Never like that." His voice trails off once more before an assumption sets off, "Olivia!" and he takes off for the door.
With one last look at the bodies, Weaver stands up, using his hands to push himself. His claws flash in the light and reveal spots of dried blood that never fully got cleaned off. Holding the claws near the ones on the man's throat show that they're a match. The bodies aren't going anywhere, of course, as he rises and takes off towards the door. Upon entering the house, he'll realize that it's currently empty.
"Hello," he calls out. Then when the understanding of it being night sets in he lowers his voice. Slowly he goes, sticking closer to the shadows than usual as he moves about the house. First he looks out for Velvet, checks in on Olivia, and lastly the hedge beasts. "Maybe it was all a dream." Beat. "Maybe this is a dream."
It's the daytime, which means that Olivia must be out somewhere near the house and Velvet is sleeping. But when he checks the bedroom there's a note. 'Our darling pets were waking me up so I'm taking them for a run in the Hedge to wear them out. I need some damn sleep. Love you, Vee.' Well, that certainly explains where those three went, but that doesn't really help with the answers.
"Okay," Weaver mutters while reading over the note. "At least I'm not dreaming. I think." He sits down on the foot of the bed, running his fingers through his hair and sighing. "Okay. Okay." His new favorite word said every few seconds as he thinks. "Maybe I can just sleep this off, and be good in the evening."
Everything in the house looks pretty normal. There was a couple of drag marks leading towards the hedge door, but he'd already found the bodies that were associated with that. There are cleaning supplies out in the bathroom, stuff that looks like was used probably to clean up not only his wound, but the bathroom afterwards. In the trash is a bloody shirt. His shirt.
"Did I lose it on some people?" he wonders aloud. "Nah, Velvet wouldn't let me lose myself like that, but-" He closes his eyes, leaning against a wall as he recalls things. "I betrayed some people. I killed some people. I got shot. We had to clean up a mess." He stands there, wracking his brain until a migraine sets in and he moves again. "Maybe somebody did something to me, but who?"
Maybe pacing will help? Either way, Weaver begins to move away from the bathroom and into the main area of the house. Past the kitchen and towards the door, he notices a little trail. It's just a blood splatter here and there, starting from the door and leading off towards the bathroom. Maybe that's where he came in?
Weaver scrubs his face with his hands, standing their for a moment while looking at the mess that's been made. The sole upside is that things still look better than the last time he lost his shit in the house. After a long, tired sigh he follows the blood to the bathroom.
It looks like most of the blood has been cleaned up, or licked up by the hedgebeasts. Going into the bathroom, it's clear to see what whatever happened was atleast a day or two ago. His shirt is in the trash, and the blood has already dried and hardened, leaving it stiff. Checking it out, he can see a bullet hole that's torn through the shoulder, in one side and out the other. That's where most of the blood is concentrated. There's blood splatter across it as well, probably from the guy that's currently lying dead in the hollow.
Weaver grunts as he investigates the shirt first, and then teh wall first. "So I got shot. At home. Velvet didn't kill me. I betrayed some people. I killed them. We killed them?" Weaver chucks the shirt back in the bin, gaze narrowing as he looks around the place. "I think I need to lie down," he grumbles, and pinches at the bridge of his nose.
From the bullet wound to the woman's head it looks like a single shot, right on target. There's a pretty good chance that Velvet killed one, and Weaver killed the other, with only Weaver getting hurt in the process. There doesn't seem to be anything with Velvet's black blood in the trash to indicate that she was harmed. Besides, she's taking the hedgebeasts on a run. She shirt drops into the trash, something tumbling out of the pocket. A little scrunched up piece of paper with blood on it.
Weaver stands there, temptation forcing his way into his mind. He leans against the threshold of the bathroom, gaze falling to that bit of paper on the floor. Eventually his curiosity gets the better of him, and he squats down to pick it up. More scrutiny. More staring. Eventually, he gives in, and unfurls the paper to make of it what he can.
The paper lays there, singing the song of it's people. Which equates to it literally just sitting there until it's scooped up by a curious Weaver. Unfolding it reveals very little, alas. Nothing so far has been terribly helpful. There is only one thing written there, in his own hand. A phone number.
Weaver stares at that paper long and hard. Out comes his cell phone, and he starts dialing out the number. He tried to at least. He only got to the first number for now, and then stows his phone away. However, the paper isn't thrown away, and instead he shoves into his pocket for now.
| 