Log:Fires & Family
| Fires & Family | |
|---|---|
Are we short on furniture or something? | |
| Participants | 18 May, 2018 Weaver welcomes cousin Olivia, and then meets Velvet near the river. |
| Location | |
| This early into the evening most folks are getting ready to head home or enjoying the day before late night work. Weaver, however, is none of those people, and is currently lounging about in a lawn chair he's likely procured from somewhere not in the hotel. He lies back, seemingly dressed to impress with a dress shirt and slacks. However, his loafers and jacket are off to the side, and he's currently enjoying a beer while watching some video of cats on his phone. While most people might be fawning over the little beauties or giggling at their attempts at meowing, he simply sneers in contempt. Olivia, likewise, is neither. She comes wandering in the downstairs door, looking around briefly before making her way up the stairs. She has one bag in hand, and a guitar case carefully strapped across her back. The bag is dropped with a thud when she reaches the top of the stairs, and she peers over at Weaver. On a lawn chair. INSIDE the house. "Are we short on furniture or something?" "Fuck no," he responds between sips from teh bottle. Weaver leans his head back to get a peek at the voice, narrowing his eyes for a few moments. When he finally catches full sight of Olivia he all but falls out of his chair from his continued leaning. He does catch himself, but teh chair goes tumbling down. "Well fuck, you're here a lot quicker than I expected." Olivia watches him with some vague amusement as he nearly topples out of the chair. The chair itself does fall, and she just shakes her head. The guitar is carefully unshouldered and set down, and she crosses across the room towards him. "When did you THINK I was going to get here? It doesn't take THAT long to travel. And if we have furniture, why are you sitting on a lawn chair of all things?" "Because it's the fucking comfy chair," Weaver states as if a matter of fact everybody knows. "And I can't fly so I'm used to driving. Travel's always a long thing for me." He then sets the beer down, and dusts off the hem of his shirt as if that'll somehow clean him up. "But come here," he says with his arms spread wide. "Maybe we can get dad to fix you some eggs or something. That's good in the morning anyway." "See now, I CAN fly," Olivia points out to him, shrugging. "Which cuts off a LOT of travel time." Her lips quirk into a small smile as his arms open and she crosses the room over towards him, reaching up to wrap her arms around him in turn. "It's not morning. But I like eggs. I like food in general." She smells faintly of cigarette smoke and some fruity shampoo, scents easy to pick up when she's close by. Weaver gave a tight squeeze of a hug until something sank in. "It's not? Shit." He smells of smoke as well, although within the usual faint scents associated with nicotine. He moves to lean against a wall, and yanks his cell phone out of his pocket. "Okay then. Shit, you're not early. I guess that nap lasted longer than I thought." He chuckles and shakes his head. "That explains why my beer got warm so quick, huh." "It's not." Olivia laughs quietly at his reaction and crosses her arms in front of her, brows rising slightly. "You could just look outside and see the sun isn't where you left it. In any case, if eggs are off the menu, we could just order pizza or something. Or Chinese food. I'm not sure what takeout is good here these days." She loosely hooks her thumbs into her belt loops, shrugging. "Pizza's good at every hour of the day," expected of a twenty-something with more money than sense. "They don't really burn it the way I like it, though. Pizza Hut will if I offer to pay double, but it's still not just right." Weaver shrugs, and moves over to right his chair again. "Chinese doesn't sound bad, though. Is it gonna be on you, miss rockstar?" Olivia gives him a somewhat dry look at the mention of the burned pizza, not entirely sure if he's poking fun at her or not. But she doesn't seem inclined to ask for clarification. She nods at the question of who is paying for the meal and digs her wallet out of her pocket. "If you order, I'll pay the guy when he gets here. I'm not a picky eater." "Oh?" Weaver asks when moving to plop back down into his seat, but in turn kicks over his beer. "Ah mother fuck," he grouses while leaning forward the grab the spilling bottle. "I guess that trip away's helpd a lot, huh? So nothing fancy, and some good old fried rice." "Helped in what way?" Olivia asks, brows rising curiously as she pulls out her credit card, tucking the wallet back into her pocket. She shakes her head as the beer bottle is half kicked over and she moves over to simply pick up the bottle from the floor. "You want this put in the fridge, or are you known for drinking warm beer? Because I'm pretty sure you can just as easily get a cold one. And nah, nothing fancy. Or I'm making you pay." "Noted," Weaver responds as he takes the beer bottle from Olivia. He lifts it up in mock cheer, and leans back in his chair. "I just like my things warm if not hot. Just consider it something weird about your cousin. It could be worse. I could have some weird kinda bug collection or something." Her nose wrinkles visibly at his decision to drink the beer warm. "That's disgusting." Her tongue pokes out briefly before she plunks herself down on a seat. "Well if you prefer hot, you and I will get along famously. As for something weird... you've been weird since I got here, so I'll just add it to the list. Bug collections at least have some sort of... brain involvement." Weaver sticks his tongue out in turn in between sips of beer. "And I like everything hot. The cold of this place took a little while to-" He shakes his head, quick to change the subject with a wicked smile. "Speaking of hot, though, how well do you have thing under control right now?" Olivia shrugs at the question. "I'm not pissed off right now, or overly emotional in general. It's fine. I have complete control," she tells him. "Why? You want me to light your hair on fire?" Her eyebrows rise slightly at the question, expression feigning seriousness. "And if you prefer hot, then why not just wrap yourself up in an electric blanket?" Weaver leans forward with a grunt, and rests his elbows on his knees. "For one, you don't wanna light me on fire." He speaks with a confidence usually expected of his cocksure attitude, but there's something telling behind that almost feral smile. "Secondly, blankets feel like shit. Last, I was curious. But, it doesn't sound too different than me if it's about anger and emotion." "You're right. At the moment, I DON'T want to light you on fire." Olivia shrugs at that, not seeming to argue the point. "And emotion is part of it. Getting cracked upside the head with a beer bottle has done it. Not sure if that's because I was surprised or pissed off." She squints a bit thoughtfully at that before shaking her head. And different than you in what way?" "I know this goes without saying with all the little shit we've grown up doing, but this stays between us." The beer's set down and this time far enough away that he isn't as likely to kick it over. Weaver lifts his hand to the air, and initially nothing happens. When seconds of waiting looks like it may turn to minutes it finally happens. Sparks dazzle around his hands as a trail of cold, blue flame forms between them. He shifts and moves it with ease and as if moving string. Olivia shrugs before nodding at the mention that what happens stays between them, her arms loosely crossing in front of her as she watches him. She gives him a vaguely amused look as the beer is placed out of range this time, then she simply waits. When the blue flames appear, she tilts her head curiously and steps over towards him. "Yup, that's new," she finally says, nodding slowly. He twists and the flame around once more, and then lets it dissipate into nothingness. "The stuff I can do is weird," to say the least, "but it comes with a catch. It took a good half a year for me to really get my emotions in control, and make sure I don't up and kill somebody by accident. Wasted life is wasted profit." And with that last bit he almost sounds like the elder Utridges - notions of death aside. "Because conjuring flame out of nothing is totally not weird," Olivia responds a bit drily, watching the blue fire disappear. "I can just make it appear out of air, not just manipulate the stuff already burning. That's a slightly new trick." She glances around the room. Plenty of flammable things here. "Any other new tricks I should know about?" Raymond eyes his cousin thoughtfully for a moment, and then shrugs. "Don't feed me after midnight or something like that. But, I'll show you more the more I know you have things under control." He extends his hand, serious for the moment. "For now let's just say I'm a magician with a few dozen tricks up my sleeve." "You're a gremlin?" she asks, brows rising in amusement. "You're a little big for a gremlin." Olivia sighs a bit and looks at his hand, nodding. "I'm generally under control. But I don't need this getting out in the open. Because that draws some unwanted attention, right? Don't need to get scrutinized. Not good for one's career. So then!" She smiles over at him. "What's the plan for tonight, then?" "I swear I won't tell a soul except maybe my fiancee, but she's on some Batman shit." Weaver tries to slip that bit in there, and happily switches to the night. "Order Chinese, maybe hear how good you've gotten, and drive out near the Tam to see how you do with that fire of yours." Beat. "I promise not to hit you in the head with a bottle, too." Olivia blinks at him and stares for a moment. "Your fiancee? You have a fiancee? You're getting MARRIED?" Her eyes widen a bit and she just stares at him. "And what's classified as 'Batman shit' anyway?" She crosses her arms in front of her and snorts at his promise. "Well thanks for that. Appreciate it. Bring something you want burned up if you want." "Yes," Weaver relents with a sigh. "I'll make sure to bring around so you can rib her, and what i mean is that she's really good at figuring shit out one way or another. It's as good as it is bad, but I love it." He shrugs. "But I really am curious about how much better you've gotten with the guitar. I always knew you can sing, but I still remember when you first started on that," he nods to the guitar case. Olivia gapes a bit at him. "Well. I guess... getting married... is fun for some people?" she says, apparently still processing that part. "Congratulations, since I don't think you'd go through with it if you didn't want to." She looks back over towards her guitar case, nodding. "I'm pretty good these days. That's what I'm told, anyway. I'll probably do a bit of busking or look for a few gigs while I'm in town. Why not? Have any leads there, by chance?" "It's not so much that the married part is bad. It's the whole not really bringing her or myself around the family too often part I'm dreading." He lets out a nervous laugh, one of the few shows of vulanerability. "What I'm hoping is mom doesn't kill me after I tell her, but that's for another day. As for gigs, there's a few places you can easily get set up at. There's this weird, kinda hippy collective that books folks along with a few small clubs around." Olivia scoffs a bit, waving one hand. "Please. I've been gone longer. Maybe I can pull a bit of that weight off. Now might be the best time to bring her by; people will be too busy peering at me." She drops herself back down into a seat, pulling her legs up beneath her as she watches him. "Hippy collective? Do I look like a hippy to you? Seriously. I can play that stuff, but clubs are probably more my style." "Hey, worst case it's a start-" Weaver shakes his head, smiling widely at what comes to mind. "There's this club called alchemy. Magical themes, elements, and shit like that, but that's beside the point. You can try to get work there, maybe, but I wanted to host a fire night. The other elements just didn't matter any fucking way. Which means things outdoors, and a potential for a lot more fun and a lot more fire around too. The only hard part is greasing palms for permits." Olivia leans forward slightly, looking interested as he begins to speak of the other locale. With fire. Her brows loft curiously and she hums thoughtfully. "I'm not sure what kind of permits you need for that sort of thing, but you can get them easily enough if you have enough money, and can spin the event the right way. Instead of saying that it's a fire night, say that you're having a pyrotechnic show. Or a bonfire. Or something to that effect. It isn't a lie, and it makes them less twitchy." "Oh that parts more than easy enough. Just call it a bloc party and then say we'll have some fires and fireworks." He leans off to the side to grab his beer, and takes a long sip while thinking for a moment. "Just have to find a charity to dump some money into, throw their name into it, and it'll be as easy as cake." Weaver nods to the idea, his face brimming with excitement. "It'd get you some exposure quick too because you're way too fucking good to be busking out on the streets just because." Olivia scoffs a bit at the mention of busking. "Please. Tax-free income. Busking has its uses." She shrugs at the mention of charity. "You're better versed in those things than I am. I don't do much for charity on my own. I like my stuff." She stretches her legs out in front of her, fingers drumming on her elbows. "Exposure is good, too. So then I think we have a bit of a plan! Did you order dinner? Should I go downstairs to wait for the guy?" "On it!" Weaver exclaims quickly. He first goes searching in his pockets, and then has to get up to grab the jacket thrown aside. It takes a bit of searching, but he eventually comes up with his phone. He talks as he begins tapping away at the screen, midly distracted as he does so. "I may forget things from time to time, but we're just gonna blame that on thoughts of fire and some really good burnt toast." "Is there a reason you prefer burned food?" Olivia asks, shaking her head a bit. "I'm the pyro, and I don't even like burned food." She digs out her own phone while he rummages for his, simply holding it up until he manages to find his own. "I'm not sure why YOU'RE distracted by fire. Unless you're plotting something." "I may be older, but not that much has changed about me. I'm always plotting. It's just a matter if it'll bear fruit in the future or not." A rubmle of a laugh catches at the back of his throat until he shrugs. "I like my food burnt and blackened It's not that weird, really." "Yeah. It is." Olivia looks at him a little incredulously. "Most people like their food tasting of... well, food. Not charcoal or dirt." She pushes herself up onto her feet, pulling her credit card out and angling over towards the stairs to get ready for the food's arrival. "So you like warm beer and charred food. Gross." "Okay, it's weird, but it doesn't mean-" Weaver never gets those words out as his phone begins to ring. He looks down at the number, grousing as he suprisingly and hurriedly shoos his cousin away for the moment. "You make the order, will ya. I gotta take this call real quick, and ask a few questions.' "I'm totally gonna drop eaves on you if you take too long," Olivia tells him, heading down the stairs and pulling up the mobile ordering. She taps on the screen, beginning to place the order and sorting out payment upon delivery. Weaver just waves her way ass he speaks, and remains silent until she's gone from sight. When he does speak it's not in anything English. It almost sounds like Spanish. He speaks it fluently enough that when his ire rises he doesn't miss a beat. What was once grumbling turns to shouting that goes on for well over a minute. The silence is dies with a loud crack that echoes throughout the hall, and it's capped off with him yelling, "FUCK!' He has his phone call. He mutters and curses and yells and whatever else on the phone. She's just making her way back up the stairs with a bunch of Chinese takeout boxes, just in time for the reverberating cuss. Olivia lifts her brows slightly and just stares at him for a moment. "Having a tantrum, dear cousin? Do you need to go to your room? Have a time out?" Weaver keeps his gaze forward as his hand sticks clear through the wall. He yanks it back, taking several chunks of plaster and dust with it. Turning to Olivia, he runs a hand through his hair and grouses, "Fuck. You." His words carry an angry venom, and the faint traces of smoke can be seen curling around his visage He takes a deep breath, and goes about dusting off his hand as if nothing was wrong with what just happened. "And I need another beer. Maybe four. Anyway, do you have any kinda blues song to play?" "No thanks. Not into cousin fucking. Might result in some warped offspring. And your fiancee would probably object. Maybe. I don't know her." Olivia shrugs, not missing a beat, nor seeming terribly phased by the aggression. She sets down the boxes of food and a few sets of chopsticks. There's probably far more than two people should eat, but she ordered it. The boxes are popped open as she studies him, considering. "I know a few, yeah. What happened? Anything I can help with?" The jest elicits a smile, and brings him out of his former thoughts. "Yes, she would object, and likely kill me. Slowly." He sounds damned sure about that "And I don't know about you, but I'd prefer an open casket if I gotta go." He sits down on the floor near the food, looking up to her as he crosses his legs. "An employee of mine decided to terminate his contract of his own will. but, it's no biggy." "So sue him," Olivia says simply, shrugging as she pokes her chopsticks into one of the boxes, pulling out some food. "Seriously. Just take him to court and get the money you're owed and hire someone else." She pauses for a moment before squinting at him, shoving one of the boxes in his direction. "What do you need employees to do, exactly?" Weaver snorts a laugh, and reaches for a pair of chopsticks. "I might as well kill him if I'm gonna sue him. It's not about the money or the work. Well-" He shrugs when he grabs one of the boxes. "It's partly about the money, but the audacity. The insult after I saved this rat bastard and got his ass this work." "You could ruin him. Ruin his reputation. Make it impossible to find work." Olivia shrugs a bit, beginning to eat slowly. "But you still didn't tell me what it was that you hired him to do." She looks around the room briefly before looking back towards him. "Or I can just light HIS hair on fire for you." "He's in Brazil, Liv. I can't speak for you, but I'd have to do a lot to reach that far south. At least to enact something personally." Weaver pops open the box in front of him, and simply takes in the warmth of the steam coming out. He lets out a happy little sigh, until he says, "He watched things for me. Real big fan of birds, though, but I figure that was just because he probably got dropped on the head." Olivia squints, thinking. "I don't speak Portuguese," she tells him, shaking her head. "You paid some guy to watch birds for you? Fuck, sign me up. I can do that while I play." She chews slowly, eating her food steadily. Apparently she was hungry. "I'm sure you'll think of something. One way or another." "No dice. You-" he says while pointing his chopsticks at Olivia. "are family. If you're really strapped for cash I can help you out anyway. You wanna watch birds, have the fuck at it. Most of the birds out here suck anyway. And it's not like I was paying him a small fortune." It likely was. Olivia snorts at that, shaking her head. "I'm not that strapped for cash," she assures him. "If I was, I'd have made you pay for dinner." She grins a bit at the mention of watching birds and shrugs. "Hey, if I get the right drugs, watching exotic birds could be fun. They're pretty brightly coloured, as I recall." She chews slowly on the food in her mouth and squints one eye at him a little bit suspiciously. "Yeah, you're not a great liar. Don't lie to a liar. We know lies when we see them." "If you're not strapped for-" Weaver shakes his head, and starts chewing down on his fried rice. "Tell you what. We'll go by a pet shop, get you some pretty birds, and get the best drugs this town has so you can smell purple and taste number 5. How's that sound?" Olivia laughs at his proposition, shaking her head and finishing off what's in her box, setting it to one side. "You plan to get high with me? Because that IS half the fun, having someone there with you," she points out to him. "Besides. I thought the plan was to go light things on fire." "Maaaybe," Weaver draws out with a widening smile. "It'd be a great way to see some shit that neither of us have never seen." He laughs at it, and then shakes his head. "We can head out when you're ready. You mind if Velvet comes along? She's the one I was talking about earlier, and she might be really good at helping you focus that anger when you need to." "It'd also put me in touch with some half decent people to buy from," Olivia points out with a small smirk. Apparently she does a few more drugs now. Who knew? She dusts off her hands and pushes herself up onto her feet. "I'm good to go any time. And yeah sure, bring her along if you want. It's not always out of focus, but anything out of focus is just... bad news." After some Chinese at the hotel Weaver and Olivia headed out to the river after a quick call to Velvet to meet up. He's in a red SUV that pulls up not too far from the river, and after making sure no one else is around he hops out dressed in a wrinkled dress shirt, slacks, and now scuffed up loafers. "Okay, we should be clear, but if it needs to be said if you see anybody coming we're just a bunch of jackasses playing with fire. Cool? Cool." "We ARE a bunch of jackasses playing with fire," Olivia points out to him, hopping out of the truck and pushing her sleeves up slowly. "There just... aren't any matches. Every good lie has a seed of truth in it." She nods at that, looking around the area curiously. "Did you pick a place close to the hospital for a specific reason?" An Uber arrives not too long after Weaver and Olivia have gotten out of the SUV. Velvet steps out, dressed in a more casual style that usual. The top is still silk, of course, but it's more of a wrap than a full shirt, accented with a pair of capri slacks in jet black. There are always heels, though. The blood red pumps with the dagger sharp heels that make no sounds as she makes her way towards the pair. A smile dances across her lips as fingers waggle in greeting. "Am I late?" "Late? Early?" Weaver shrugs "And worst case scenario we gotta poof asap, Liv. By the way-" He steps back, a hand held out in the direction of both women. "Olivia, Velvet. Velvet, Olivia. And I wasn't specific. If I was I'd probably just take the boat out to the middle of the lake. THat isn't that bad an idea anyway" Olivia rolls her eyes at Weaver's response, sighing heavily. "For the love of... do you seriously think I have absolutely no control here? What exactly are you expecting is going to happen? Atomic explosions?" She gives Velvet a sideways look before taking a deep breath, letting the annoyance shift to one side briefly so she can greet the newcomer. "Hi. Olivia. Nice to meet you." "It's nice to meet you too," Velvet offers in Olivia's direction with a brief smile. Her eyes dart between the two, a brow lifting just slightly at the tones and expressions. "Well, I'm not even sure what is about to happen, or what we're doing. But I am totally down for explosions." "No explosions," Weaver says flatly. "We'll leave that kinda stuff to Widget, Vee." He then turns to face the river, and starts going through his pockets. "Jokes aside, being near water is best. It was the same for me after I had my first foray with fire, and its a safe enough space to practice that won't get you in trouble. If someone even comes out I can make it look as innocent as I want it to be." "Fire," Olivia semi-explains to Velvet about what they're doing. Her hands rise, fingers wriggling briefly before she turns back towards the river with Weaver. "This isn't my first foray. It's just gotten stronger over the years. I've fine-tuned my skill, too, but... well, yeah." She shrugs a bit, looking out over the water. "Awww." Velvet pouts for a moment when Weaver puts the kebash on the chance at explosions. "That's a damn shame. But I do like fire, and you seem to have fire on the brain lately." Blue eyes shift between the pair again, focusing on Olivia in quick study at the mention of fine tuning her skills. "What kind of skills are we talking about?" Olivia doesn't look or feel Lost, but Velvet more than anyone knows how deceptive that can be. "Oh, I forgot that part." Weaver slaps his forehead, grinning as he presents the two women again. "Velvet is the woman I told you about earlier, my fiance. Olivia is my cousin, and I figure you too might get along. Or try to kill each other." He shrugs. "Jury's technically still out on that one." Indeed, Olivia does not appear to have any of the markers of Lost. She seems relatively normal, by human standards. She does stare at Weaver for a moment, just blinking slowly at him. "Do I have a reason to try to kill her?" she finally asks, glancing back at Velvet and just shrugging at the other woman. "Skills. Right. Ah... explosions when I lose my shit. Basically." "Oh, well it's nice to finally meet a member of the Utridge clan," Velvet says with a laugh, though her expression is rather serious as she glance up at Weaver. "I've already told you that I won't ever skill any members of your family. Unless they start it. But even then it'd be a light maiming." She seems to be joking, but it's kind of difficult to say. She smirks at Olivia's question. "You might want to some days. I will completely understand," she assures. "Are you a pyrokinetic?" Weaver narrows his gaze, and nudges his hip into her side. "I was joking, but no maiming either." He then looks over to Olivia, and nods. "It may be best if you explain, Liv. It'd be a bit easier, and my explanations usually end up about fire anyway." "I'm not generally a violent person," Olivia tells Velvet with a grin. "So you're probably safe. Mostly." She crosses her arms loosely in front of herself, looking towards Weaver. "Well she knows what pyrokinetics are, since she knows the big word, so the easiest explanation from you or me is..." She pauses and turns towards Velvet, nodding. "Yes." "I did not agree to that!" Velvet proclaims at the no maiming command from Weaver. She does laugh at the hip bump, though. "I'm very violent. But in an overprotective, if anyone ever touches or hurts you I'll rip their tongue out through their ass, kind of way." Says the barely five foot two woman who looks like she might tip over in a stiff breeze. "I've studied the occult, I've heard about it before, but never met one in person. That's pretty awesome." Olivia quirks a brow slightly at the description. "That sounds... uncomfortable. But I guess you could? Technically?" She tilts her head, thinking about that. "In any case, yeah. Fire. Burning. Showed up when I was a teenager. Got stronger as I got older. I've got some skill with it; I can create fire from nothing, change the shape or size of the flame, and so on. But if I'm exhausted or the like, it's... unpredictable." "Very uncomfortable," agrees Velvet with a bob of her head. "It'd probably mean hollowing them out a little bit first though." She smirks, not seeming terribly serious at the moment. But there's a strange shade of crazy in her eyes which might indicate otherwise. "Is it more of a mental thing or an emotional thing? I can't imagine what it would be like to start fires every time I got pissed off. I'd have burnt down half the city by now." "It has components of both. My control is more mental; I can do any of those things at will. But emotional outbursts can override the mental control, and then I have to try to fix it. But if it's reached that point, I'm usually too frazzled to fix it." Olivia cringes slightly at that, some old memory undoubtedly in her mind. She puffs out a small breath between her lips and glances around. "But I am neither exhausted nor angry, so it should be fine. I think he just wants to see what I can do, really." She pulls out her phone briefly, blinking at the screen. "Ah crap. 'scuse me guys." | |
