Log:Late Night Chat
|Late Night Chat|
I didn't wake you, did I?
6 July, 2018
Olivia and Weaver finally talk after Olivia's escape. Part of Olivia's Crucible
After last night Weaver had remained distance. "Give her time," Velvet said. "Stop being mean. Stop growling. Give her space." So after a bit of yelling that she likely heard from the bedroom Weaver is doing just that. It looked like a tornado full of lions went through the living room, but at least the bedroom was clean and pretty. Weaver was outside of it, resting on a perch just outside one of the windows. Likely something he had set up when they moved in. For now he rests, looking off while listening to some music, humming loudly enough that he might wake someone up.
Olivia doesn't sleep so much as just... passes out. The comforter on the bed has been stripped off and wrapped around herself, kept close to her face, the scent of family keeping her mostly calm. She didn't sleep on the bed either, instead curling herself into a corner, propped up against one wall, ready to pop up at a moment's notice. Her slumber is light, and as Weaver begins humming, one eye cracks open and she looks around. Still home. Not in some weird landscape. Olivia slowly uncurls from her corner, pushing herself up onto her feet, draping the blanket over her head as she walks slowly over to the window to peer outside.
Weaver for his part doesn't hear a word. He does get an inkling of a sensation, but he doesn't act on it. His shadows fidget and move around on their own as he bobs his head. He does a slow sway to whatever beat thrums in his ears, stretching his wings in the act.
Olivia fidgets slightly, her own wings gone, a faint and almost phantom-pain sensation flaring only briefly before fading. Her eyes shift to dart around the immediate area, looking around carefully, examining everything that she can see before stepping back for a moment. She steps over towards the closet, digging through the clothes for a few moments before pulling out a t-shirt and some sweats. At least she isn't planning to walk around naked as she walks back over towards the window, rubbing at her head. The colours may be mismatched, but she doesn't appear to care.
By the time she gets back to the window Weaver had already heard all of the commotion. The dragon was turned around, facing her through the glass. He pulls his earphones off, turns his music down, and gives his cousin a wave. With his true visage shown he can't really turn off the predatory look about him, but he smiles all the same. "I didn't wake you, did I?"
Olivia yelps a bit, seeing Weaver staring in the window now instead of sitting where he was when she stepped back, eyes going wide as she jumps back, blinking. "I... wasn't really sleeping," she says slowly, overly sharp teeth visible as she speaks. "Why are you outside the window?"
The ferocious appearance draws no judgements or reactions from Weaver. He can't really do much when he has similar enough teeth and claws. "Oh," he responds to her first statement. At least it removes that slight hint of guilt. TO her question he answers, "I usually come out here when I think I might fly, or I wanna just sit and look down at the lake ot the sky. Just one of the few places I get to think about me."
She presses her lips together in a thin line briefly, puffing out a small breath after a moment, a tiny cloud of condensation. "Seems like an odd place to sit," Olivia says, gently scratching the side of her neck and playing with the edge of the fabric on the clothing she wears. Not used to it. "I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be doing now," she finally tells him.
"You can do whatever you want to do. If that's nothing, Liv, you're free to do that." This draws a bit of humor out of the dragon as he chuckles. "My first two months I just ate wahtever I could get my hands on. I was even dumpster diving, too. Then I stole some cash from somebody, went to this shitty pizzy joint, and had the best burnt pizza I have ever had in my life."
Olivia squints slightly at him, shifting uncomfortably and looking around the room. "I'm not sure. I'm restless, but not. I'm scared, but not. Tired, hungry, sad, angry, and nothing all at the same time." One brow arches as he mentions the burned pizza and she just shakes her head a bit, rubbing at her eyes. "Which makes for a confused me. Who is wearing your clothes."
Weaver hadn't changed since their escape from the hedge, and he simply shrugs at her question. "I can probably help with you like two of those things. Maybe three out of five. We got food downstairs, Vee got something frozen for you, just in case you wound up kinda like me. I got you pizza and cold beer. I didn't put 'em in the freezer because I don't think you'll end up like me. Vee is just a bit too motherly." He shrugs. "If you wanna get rid of some of that engery she converted the studio into a dojo. I don't go on the place, but we can use it to help find out some of what you are and what you can do. That was the other part that I wish I had when I got out isntead of just playing it by ear." She knows him. Most of his life is playing it by ear. "I can't make you not sad, but I am happy to see you again, Liv. Not like this because-" He shakes his head, smiling wide and flashing those sharp teeth. "I'm just happy you're safe and sound."
Pizza and beer. Olivia considers that option. "I've spent a lot of time eating... not pizza. But even I can't eat stuff that's frozen solid." She squints a bit at him as he grins toothily at her. At least she'd had time in the past to get used to this appearance; it isn't terribly alarming. "I've learned that what I did while I was there isn't necessarily what I can do now. So I have no idea what's changed beyond... not fire. At least in that regard." She thinks for a few moments before walking over towards the door, pausing at the threshold and listening to the house before slowly making her way towards the kitchen, absently gesturing for him to follow.
Weaver nods, and bounds inside the house. Not too graceful, but he's in without a sound. He follows behind Olivia, and then to the kitchen. "Gotta heat up the pizza, but that's what microwavers are for. As for beer..." He moves to the fridge, and brings out two cold beers. One held out for her, while he looks at his own with a sneer. "I probably should've left someout for me so it's at least room temp."
Olivia can't help but look around as she walks, studying each room as she moves through. Making sure it's safe. She steps into the kitchen with Weaver, taking the beer and doing a brief circle around the room. "Probably," she agrees, opening the one in her hand and lifting it to her lips. "Pour it into a glass and microwave it? Or get some delivered?" She shrugs and considers the kitchen for a moment before plunking herself into a chair, shoving it back to press the back against the wall. "I'm half expecting to wake up in another landscape again. Or have my eyes gouged out again."
Weaver instead brings out a cup for himself. He nods at the suggestion of nuking it, but doesn't do so. The glass he's using looks weird, something hedgespun and not wholly of this world. He poors his beer into it, and then blows a pillar of smoke in it. Just enough that the color of his drink changes from an off yellow to something dark and browner. "You get used to not dealing with that. The wondering if you're back or not. You eventually get used to it. How easy it is depends on the person. For me it wasn't that hard to realize I wasn't in the arena and that it wasn't a dream. I was butt-ass naked in the middle of winter, and I couldn't fly anymore."
"I can't fly anymore either," she tells him quietly, drinking the cold liquid more greedily as she gets used to the taste again. "I woke up in different places a lot. It got to the point where it wasn't even that disorienting anymore. Just... get up and go on." Olivia shrugs at that, shifting in her seat to perch on the edge of it. "Some places were hot. Some cold. Trees, no trees, mountains, no mountains... I ended up in... a lot of places. So this?" One hand rises, gesturing absently. "This is... this."
Weaver nods slowly. "I remember a lot of it," made obvious and present by his connection to the Wyrd. "Well, I got a pit of ash, but heard of places like that. I wanted to get out, and got shown the arena for my troubles. I didn't mind the fighting, but fuck did I hate the cage. It's why I'd sooner kill a cop than ever get locked up agian." He shivers from head to toe at the thought. "Had to do a whole lotta killing, but you get used to it after a while. Before, during, and back."
"A pit of ash?" Olivia squints slightly and thinks for a moment. "That sounds unpleasant." She closes her eyes briefly, opening them to look around. "I'm just scared. Constantly. Vulnerable. I'm not me anymore. I don't feel like me anymore. The beer still tastes like beer, at least." She wraps her hands around it, pulling it in close. "You're going to have to show me that dojo you were talking about, I think."
"You're as vulnerable as you were before." He grabs a chair to sit opposite her, but still give her clear sight lines of escape. Soemthing like on his own mind after escaping. "The only difference is you got your eyes opened to some other fucked up shit. Shit's a lot easier when we think it's just humans who are the real monsters in teh wor,d right? And you're still you, Liv. Never, ever forget that. Don't let that bullshit define you more than it ever should. Fucking trust me on that if nothing else. You end up consumed by that shit."
Olivia watches him closely as he sits, head tilting slightly as her eyes shift left and right, making a few mental notes before refocusing on him. She looks at him incredulously, forehead pinching together. "But I'm not," she tells him, shaking her head slowly. "I'm not me anymore. I'm different. I have no fire. I can't see properly. My hair is NOT red. I don't think." She reaches one hand back to gently pluck at her pale tresses. "Mirrors are confusing."
"No, they're not confusing. All those changes are you now, yes, but you're still you." He palms his cup in one hand, jabbing his thumb into his chest. "But you decide in how much of you is you. Shit is gonna take some fucking getting used to. Not gonna fucking lie about it. So what if color's weird now. So the fuck what if you went all white lightning and shit. You deicde hwat of that compassion I remember is gonna be there. YOu decide if you ever wanna sing again, or if you wanna ditch that too."
"I don't even know if I CAN sing anymore," Olivia says, shaking her head slowly. "And yes, they are confusing. You look in a mirror and you don't see yourself. That? That is confusing. It is hard to adjust to. And not seeing colour means I'm going to be wearing some very bad-looking combinations of clothing. And I can't walk around naked all the time." She tips her head back, pouring the rest of the beer down her throat and setting the empty down.
Weaver hands over the rest of his half empty beer while finishing off the toxic concoction he made for himself. "Sing is simple. It's just a matter of trying so start from there. Start looking at some of the things you used to enjoy. What you liked doing. Where you liked to go. Reclaim who you are. They may call us Lost, but we are isn't lost to us. I don't know how bad your eyesight is, but you can get used to it. But, lemme start you off." Weaver is typically into music without words. Even before Arcadia. However, he does know Olivia's music. Front to back, and a few covers in other languages. He's a fan and she's family. The dragon clears his throat, humming the tune of the last song she released online, slowly shifting into the lyrics as he croons in his usual raspy tone.
Olivia takes the half-empty beer that's passed her way, looking at it for a moment. It never left her sight. Really. She tells herself that a few times in her head before taking a careful sip. "I'm not sure how bad it is versus just not... not the same. Colours look funny. I can still see clearly." Her head cants slightly to one side as he begins to hum, the song registering as familiar in her mind. She closes her eyes, listening, visualizing the song before beginning to sing along softly.
Weaver continues on, voice lifting and likely waking up the hedge beasts in the house. Nearer the end his voice lowers, and he allows Olivia to take it home. By the time she's done a tears are falling from his eyes. He looks at her with those tears trailing down his face with a slight smile. He opns his mouth to say something, but nothing comes and he wipes away at his eyes.
It's her voice, at least. The music seems to get through to her, and Olivia continues on with the same rythym and words that the song should have until she reaches the end. She opens her eyes and looks at him as she realizes he's stopped singing, her lips curving into a small smile as she inches to the edge of her chair to reach over for him to draw him in to a hug.
Weaver lets himself be held there for a few seconds before wrapping his arms around her, and hugging Olivia tight. Probably a little too tight with him being an Ogre and how bad things have been. He does eventually let her go to wipe away the tears. "I'm sorry. We just didn't know how long you'd been gone, and what happened and I was afraid that I'd never see you again. Thought you were gone forever, and..."
Olivia leans into him, turning her head slightly and breathing deeply. It is him, and the familiar smell does more than a little to calm her raw nerves. She doesn't complain at the tight squeeze, leaning back and lifting ehr fingers to gently wipe away the tears, her touch noticably cooler than it used to be. "You don't need to be sorry. You didn't do anything. And I'm home. I think."
Weaver shivers a bit at the touch, gaze narrowing on her. "You are home, Liv. It just takes getting used to. I ended up around N-Y, and kinda went from there. I built myself up away from there before I came back here. If you're wondering why you might not've seen me out there, too, it's because I could look like whoever I wanted. Same with the voice. I can't do that anymore, and I don't want to. I got tired of being so scared and feeling so vulnerable. So I embraced what I am, reclaimed what I used to be, and, well, the end result is all the bullshit we've had happen to us."
Olivia pulls her hand back at the small shiver, looking immediately self-conscious. "Sorry," she says quietly, looking down at her hand before clasping them together to shove them into her lap. "I can't do that. I don't think. It doesn't sound like me. But none of this is like me. I'm having to start all over again." Her brows lift slightly, curiously. "Bullshit happens."
Weaver takes a deep breath. Then another because he needs more than a moment. He pulls down his tank top to reveal a bullet scar that punctured through the scales on his chest. Then three more scars on his abdomen. "This, is all my fault. Not just some bullshit that happens. I want to keep this short because you're as likely to slap me as you are rip my throat out. That boy you and Velvet rescued, he went crazy and stabbed me. Left me bleeding to death on the kitchen floor on the night of the reception. The gunshot's from someone that went after Bronwyn, if you remember her. It's why Sergio is dead. It's also why you got captured. I came from The Borrower, I told you that bit before. He fucks with you to make you better, he trade for you, or he trades you away. There was a guy kinda like me, we got traded because The Borrower said I was a better dragon." He sighs, shaking his head. "I'm avoiding the point, and I told myself I'd avoid that. The Iron Dragon, Dietrich. We both met each other not too long after he escaped and I won my freedom. We've had something of a rivalry, but I apparently pushed him past the edge. He's been going after people I care about, and you got pulled into the crossfire. It's-" Another deep breath, and this one his last. "It's my fault you got taken," he says while baring his throat.
Olivia missed all this. She was gone already, and she missed it all. She stares at him as he speaks, finishing off the beer quickly enough during the conversation. Her hands reclasp once they're empty, returning to a place in her lap as she watches him, sitting perfectly still, not interrupting. She nods slowly, processing the information, thinking. Eventually, she takes a deep breath, releasing it slowly as she speaks. "You are not in charge of the actions other people take," she says slowly. "You did not do this to me."
"I don't have a bit of control of Dietrich, but maybe, I dunno, if I wasn't so much of an asshole maybe this never happens. Maybe if I don't start going down that stupid path with him in the first place we never get to this." Weaver sighs, leaning back to close his eyes. "I've gone out of the way to connect most of us dragons that were under The Borrower. It hasn't been easy, but there's about a dozen of us all over. Dietrich has to die, though. That can't and isn't up for debate. It's the first time I've wanted to kill someone in my life. I killed a lot in the arenas. I've bloodied my fucking hands here too, but it was a need. A necessity. Something I didn't take pleasure and only a last result. Dietrich has to die or he's going to keep coming after everything and everyone I love."
"Weaver. You did not do this." Olivia says it a bit more firmly, reaching out to gently squeeze his knee. "I'm not going to discourage you from killing him. Not in the slightest. I'm fine with it. He deserves it and more. But you did not do this to me." Her eyes search his face, watching him. "He probably won't know I'm here, if that helps in any way."
Weaver nods slowly, and lets out a smoky sigh. "Fine, Liv. Fine. You're right. He made his own bed, he shat in it, and he's gonna die in it. He has no one to blame but himself for getting there, but I'm going to be the one to kill him. Not you. Not Velvet. Not anyone else. I already know he wants to kill me last so at the worst he might beat the shit outta me. Maybe even cripple me. Not like he's Charles. Now, he's not one I ever wanna be on the badside of."
"Don't know who that is, either." Olivia slides off her seat, slowly easing up onto her feet. Restless. Can't stay in one spot too long. "I don't care if you kill him. You have every right to." She circles around the edge of the kitchen, glancing around the corners before wandering over to the couch. She drops herself down on the couch, pulling her knees up against her chest and leaning against the side. And promptly dozes off. Apparently the couch registers as more or less 'safe' in her mind, too.
Weaver was getting up to get her another beer as she moves about. "You keep doing that, and you're gonna scare people. Not us, but people. Them." He doesn't allude to them, but the teasing comes with a chuckle. He was going to start heating up the pizza, but then he can hear the usual sounds of her drifting off to sleep. He departs the living room for a bit, returning with a blanket to drape over her sleeping form. While he was happy for his cousin to be back right now he can't be happier than he can sleep in his own bed again.