Log:Questions and Answers

Questions and Answers
"I probably have some bottles of whiskey and vodka left"
Participants Bronwyn, Velvet	30 June, 2018 Bronwyn learns more about the Lost.
Location Bronwyn's Cabin
It's time to check on Bronwyn again, just to see how the woman is holding up with everything. After all, too much drinking isn't good for the body. Especially mortal ones. There's a gentle rapping on the door as Velvet waits on the front porch, looking her elfy self. She's not dressed in the usual silk skirt and top combination, but instead looks more like she's ready for a fight at any moment. Leggings wrapped around her legs, leather bodice with silk underlay, and tall boots. Her unbelievably long hair is pulled into a high ponytail that whips with dark tendrils around it. "It's me." The door opens slightly and blue eyes peer out before it closes again and the sound of a chain being unhooked can be heard. Then the door is opened wide to reveal the good doctor. "Hey" she smiles warmly before looking over the other woman. "That is a hell of an outfit, Velvet. Seriously. I wish I could fit in something like that. Umm...you weren't on your way to drive Weaver crazy, were you? Come on in." Bronwyn steps aside to let Velvet in, feeling rather frumpy in her long t-shirt and panties. "I think Widget is on patrol...with a bottle of wine" she explains, though not annoyed in the slightest. "Go on through to the kitchen" she adds, closing the door and rehooking the chain. Over the dining room table are the papers being translated. It seems the doctor has been working long and hard on it. "You could fit into an outfit like this easily, you just choose not to," Velvet points out. She takes a couple of steps into the room and suddenly shifts, her body taking on the shape of Bronwyn herself, but dressed in Velvet's outfit. She gives a little twirl, showing off just how well the outfit would appear on Bron before she flickers back into herself. "But no, Weaver is off trying to fix his mess. I am dressed to deal with assassins. Since there's been so many of them." She wanders towards the dining room, studies the papers being worked on. "Thank you for doing this, by the way." Bronwyn stares...at herself. "Okay...that was...weird." Where is that bottle of wine? "If you can do that...how are you sure what you look like now is actually what you look like?" She rubs her forehead. "Just when I think I have it sorted, something else pops up." Though there is soon a smile again. "I could understand assassins being distracted by you wearing that. Though it's not just about the body in those clothes, it's the attitude and confidence. You have those in spades. Would you like some wine?" The doctor follows Velvet into the dining room. "I hope Weaver is okay. He must have made some enemies in his time." A shrug at the thanks. "I'm still working on it. Sorry it is taking so long. And...thanks for thinking I could help out." "It's not what I look like," Velvet offers with a sigh. "It's what I allow myself to look like because I'm not a big fan of what I was turned into." Velvet leans a hip against the table. "I've only showed two people what's really under all of this. I'm afraid it might frighten you or anyone else to see." Mostly because it horrifies her. But then, she's the one who has to live with it. "Weaver... has made a lot of enemies in his life. But most of this is spawning from the big one. A situation he brought on himself. Yes please to the wine." Her eyes scan the papers. "Of course I thought you could help, you're the smartest person I know." She genuinely means it, eyes lifting as she offers her a smile. "That's what Weaver tried to tell me" Bronwyn smirks about the smartest person comment as she pours them both a wine. "He brought it on himself? The 'big one'? It's none of my business, no need to tell me anything." She hands over a glass of red before sipping on her own. The doctor has her hair tied back, big glasses (to help with the intelligent look), an oversized t-shirt and probably a pair of shorts underneath. "What do you look like?" she asks softly. "I consider you a friend, Velvet. A really good friend. Weaver tells me you think the same of me. If you can't have faith in a friend to accept you..." Another shrug. "But, again, it's not my business." A wave of her hand over the pages. "It's quite the problem you brought to me." Velvet takes the glass with a thankful nod, considering Bronwyn. "Like a monster," she notes when asked what she looks like. She takes a slow breath through her nose before letting all the soft light of her elfen self start to fade. It ripples out of place, and fades into something else entirely. Ethereal, demonic, dark. Her skin is a deep shade of purple, that white hair long and black instead. Curved horns protrude from the sides of her head, curling like a ram's. She still has those long ears, but there are two sets on either side of her head now. Deep gashes look like they were carved into her arms, red, humming light glowing from the ever-open wounds. Her eyes are still a glowing light, but a deep shade of read. Almost all of her is covered in scars. Surely Bronwyn has seen her fair share of scars in different cultures, seen the horrors of what people can do to each other. It pales in comparison to Velvet's skin. That kind of scarring, where it's almost every bit of exposed flesh would take a good decade's worth of continuous torture to create. The red eyes look down into her glass, frowning. Bronwyn wasn't sure what to expect but she never thought it would be this. Her eyes widen. Her body forgets to breathe as she stares at the creature before her that was her best friend. No, she realises, it /is/ her best friend. And what she looks like makes no difference. Still, she trembles, some unease burrowing into her mind that she does her best to ignore. "Monstrous things may have been done to you" she states softly, "But you are no monster." She moves forward and hugs Velvet. "I can't imagine the horrors you went through but I also can't imagine my life without you in it." A platonic, but warm, kiss to the scarred cheek before she pulls away. "Thank you for trusting me." Bronwyn certainly has seen ritualist scarring in her work but this just looks sadistic...though maybe whoever did it, did have a reason for it that she can't figure out. For now at least. She downs the rest of her wine. "Refill time." There's a stiffness in the hug for a moment, but Velvet eventually relaxes, wrapping her arms back around Bronwyn to give her a squeeze. The vision of darkness recedes to leave only the pretty, white haired elf on display. It's much more calming, for sure. "Thank you for not screaming and running away," she offers softly. "But I am a monster. Not just because of my looks, but for who I am. I do a lot of things that would have sent other people to the nut house by now. Or the electric chair." Bron got to witness how easily killing came to the woman. It explains that vigilante discussion they had a month or two ago. "If we're looking to get drunk, I'm going to need something harder than wine," she chuckles, causing the lights in the room to flicker like candlelight in the wind. "I probably have some bottles of whiskey and vodka left" Bronwyn suggests, "Though I did hit them pretty hard the night of...well...everything. Trust me, if I felt the need to run and scream, I would. But if there is one thing that I have learned, appearances can be deceiving. Images have power but once you are aware of how they have that power, then they don't and you take them for what they really are. That make sense. Ah...vodka." She proudly pulls out the bottle and returns to the dining room table. "Sit" she smiles before unscrewing the lid and leaving the bottle on the table for them to share - no need for glasses. "You're a warrior for your society. Now, the society that I am part of, has no need for vigilante warriors...have we talked about this before?" A wink for Velvet before she continues. "Your society obviously needs them and works within different moral boundaries. It is the merging of those societies that will cause the problems." Velvet goes to sit when she's told to sit down, pulling up a chair near the paper work as she considers everything that Bron says. "I don't know that I'm a warrior for my people. I see myself more like vengeance for those who have been harmed. If you think I'm frightening in a fight, you should see some of the others. I went on a patrol with this guy the other day, he's a Summer. Theirs is the season of wrath and rage. He got swallowed whole by a giant worm that came plunging out of the ground. Literally hacked and slashed his way out of its insides. Came out laughing and puking. That's a warrior. I'm a dark necessity." She doesn't say anything about the fact that her work extends into the mortal realm, brows knitting faintly. Bronwyn's eyes narrow at the story of the Summer warrior. "Isn't that Guardians of the Galaxy 2?" she winks. "And here I thought that summer was the season of warmth and peace. Shows what I know. You can still be a warrior in the shadows. You obviously have a use in your society...which is more than I can say for an anthropologist. Most of the people in my class are now saying things like 'you want fries with that?'." She takes a mouthful of vodka from the bottle before offering it over. "Do you /want/ to do what you do? Or is it some kind of involuntary necessity? I mean, the forms you all take are very specific forms. They seem to be associated closely with what you do. I mean, I don't see you working at a child care center anytime soon." "The movie? I haven't seen it. I don't really get to go out and do mundane things like that a lot. When I go to the theaters it's for the horror movies because I can recharge my energy off of the fear in the room. Where a Summer is wrath, the Autumns are fear." Velvet's presses a hand to her chest. "Autumn," she explains. "And here you are, deciphering a coded language that could end up being the turning point in a fight against people who will destroy countless lives otherwise. You're going good work. Important work." She takes the bottle and starts to chug. She takes a rather large portion before offering it back. "We were all designed to do something. I was created to kill. I refused to. For years and years I refused. Every day I refused, I was given to the Nightmares to play with. I was maybe ten when I was taken. They would rip me apart, cut me apart, put me back together wrong. Stretched, beaten, assaulted. Anything and everything you could think of because The Monstrous Prince wouldn't let me die. Sometimes he liked to do it himself, of course, because I was 'special'. I took so long to break, so they had extra fun with me. After about ten years, my brain just couldn't take it anymore. It snapped." She snaps her fingers and the noise echoes hauntingly for a moment in the otherwise silent room. Another flicker of lights. "He sent me to kill, and I did. Endlessly, as much as he wanted until my escape. So now, I use what he made me to punish those that harm others. So no, I'm probably not suited for child care work. Bronwyn listens quietly. This is all very interesting stuff for her...just a shame she can't tell the rest of the scientific community about it. "Ten? Wow...that's...wow." She takes the bottle but then reaches out to give Velvet's hand a comforting squeeze. Not that it could make up for a decade of torture. "Recharge? It's okay, we don't have to go into details about how things work. Not now. I want you to be yourself around me. Relax." She enjoys a mouthful before handing the vodka back. "I think I might need to get another bottle" she smiles before waving a hand at the papers. "I'm not translating it very well at the moment but I'll do my best. Are there not researchers in your society? People like me who can't kill spectacularly at the drop of a hat?" Bronwyn purses her lips in thought for a moment. "Anything that those people who attacked you said that could help? Vanessa? Was that her name?" "Yeah, about there. Not that anyone noticed, really. There wasn't even a replacement Fetch left behind. Which tends to the be the case with runaways and kids in the system. They disappear so often, who really cares, right?" Velvet's tone cuts for a moment before the squeeze Bronwyn gives her returns her mind to the now. "The powers we use cost a certain kind of energy. We can recharge that energy by feeding off of certain emotions. For me, I can recharge through fear." She doesn't seem to mind explaining. "You'll probably need another bottle," she agrees. "But yeah, we have academics. I don't really know or trust any of them like I do you, however." Glowing eyes narrow faintly as Velvet considers. "Vanessa wasn't a part of the stuff with the cult, I'm afraid. She was sent by the man that's after Weaver." "I read about these fetch things" Bronwyn notes excitedly, "But you didn't have one?" A frown...that must make Velvet feel really unwanted by the life she once had. She does manages a smile about the fear. "You fed on me at the reception, didn't you? And you didn't even buy me dinner first" she teases. "I think there was plenty for you to feed on that night. So I guess you'll never be scared yourself." She rises from the chair to grab another bottle - why does she have so many in the house? "I'll do the best I can about the translation" she promises, "Though I might need to get some books from home sent up. I take it I should keep all this kind of stuff off the net? I'd hate for this cult to be hacking me." A nod about Vanessa. "Hired killer then. These people who stole you and you escaped from. I assume that is the same for everyone here. You're all in hiding?" "Nope. I was in the system my whole life. Bouncing around. When kids vanish from there, there isn't a whole lot of looking. The Loyalists and Privateers know this. They know where to hunt." Velvet has the decency to look apologetic. "I did. I'm sorry. It doesn't harm you in any way. But I needed it after everything that was going on. Killing five people and incapacitating another is not easy on the energy," she admits. "The most I've done is twenty-three in one night. Little monsters," she grunts. That was one of her first nights in town. Velvet polishes off the bottle while Bron searches for another one. "Off the net is better, yeah. You would draw the wrong kind of attention." She leans back. "Keepers, or Gentry. Those are the names of the big bads that Kept us. There are a lot, so there isn't just one main one that we all got away from. I'm not sure if you'd call it hiding. But we do form groups, called Freeholds, for mutual protection. Bronwyn returns with a six pack of Cranberry vodkas. "I like alcopops, so sue me" she teases before dropping all six in front of Velvet and resuming her seat. "How many do they take? It must be so many...but then I guess that is what the Fetches are for. So no one notices. And, yeah, there are way too many in the system to be lost so easily." A sigh at how little she can do to change the world while she slumps back in her chair. "I already have attention, remember? Someone was sent to kill me. Do these Freeholds protect mere mortals who stumble into all this?" She purses her lips in thought for a moment. "Velvet. If that incident at the reception never happened...would you have told me about all this?" Velvet laughs a little at the flavored drinks. "I have been poisoned and gassed so many times that I can mostly eat and drink whatever you give me and be fine. It takes a lot to get me drunk, so I've learned to accept what's around. Thank you." She chuckles and pops the top off of one. "All of those missing person's reports you see? You'll never view them the same way again," she promises with a frown. "The attention you have isn't because you know anything about us, it's because you're important to Weaver. I don't think they realize that you're ensorcelled. Which is the name for it, by the way. A human granted the ability to see us. I'm not sure what the rules are here, but I can check. There is a chance you can pledge to the Freehold and become a member, thus falling under its protections. Right now, you're just considered under mine. And Weaver's and Dani's, obviously." Her head bobs slowly at the last question. "I was working up to it with little hints here and there, yes," she informs. "I planned to sit you down and give you a choice, however. I didn't want it to happen the way it did." "It wouldn't have been a choice. I would have needed to know" Bronwyn assures her friend. "I think it is even the reason I am here. All the strangeness...I know what it is now. I just can't tell anyone. Story of my life. Just when I think something big is going to happen...I can't do anything about it." She does take one of the bottles and sips on the sweet goodness. "No...I guess I won't think the same about missing kids again" she frowns. "Does the government know about this? Could they do anything if they did? I don't want to become a danger to your Freehold. I have a feeling that they'd also send someone to get rid of me." That makes her laugh at least. "Is all of Weaver's family like this? Olivia?" "There are different kinds of Supernaturals in all different areas of government, honestly. Doing what they can with what information they have." Supernaturals, not just Changelings. Which means that others are real too. "But we keep ourselves secret for a reason. Good reasons. This isn't a war between humans and us. We try to keep you all as safe as we can. The little boy... the one that had stabbed Weaver? He was a Fetch," she explains. Which explains why there was no body afterwards. Just string and twigs. "I got wind that there might be people stealing sick kids from the hospital, so I went to check with Olivia. Who is mortal too," she answers. "I caught Nightmares in one of the rooms. Child halfway in a sack, the Fetch in the bed. I killed them, put the child back in the bed and took the Fetch. Usually they're killed on sight, because you just never know. But he was a child." Her eyes drop, voice shaking. Velvet is never quite so open, emotions wise, but this wound is raw. "We were adopting him, to raise." The little boy that stabbed Weaver and Velvet shot in the head. Her brand new son. "Why was I worried you would tell me that?" Bronwyn sighs about other supernaturals in the world. "I thought they might be able to help you defend yourselves but seeing you at work...and knowing that the bad guys have people like you too...I guess it would just mean lots of dead humans." She looks confused for a moment. "Nightmares are a thing not a state of sleep I assume." A wince at the thought of children in sacks but at least they were saved. And then the really horrible stuff. "Oh God...I'm so sorry, Velvet. That must have been so terrible." She gets out of her chair to give her friend a tight hug. "I can't even begin to comprehend the pain of that." For a moment she wonders how you would legally adopt a copy of a person but that is unimportant compared to Velvet's obvious pain. "You could still have children yourself" she offers in a well-intentioned way. "It's stands to reason that if there's one, there's bound to be others," Velvet offers with a little shrug. "As for the Freehold, they're not going to try to kill you. Once you're ensorcelled, you're a part of us. We take that very seriously. Nightmares." Velvet's eyes turn from the glowing blue to that red from her more demonic form. "Nightmares are the elite Loyalists of The Monstrous Prince. The ones that took me and tortured me. At least I took out two of them. After that night, Olivia has to be Enscorcelled as well. She has not taken it as well as you have. But neither of you have gone insane, so that's a good thing." Velvet sighs. Her hands curl around Bron's arms, returning the hug lightly. "The things that we go through, the changes, it leaves us sterile. All of us. I don't know if you saw the scar going from my chest, downward? That was from the time they cut me open from throat to groin, pulled everything out and tried to see if they could put it all back in the same way. Like a Lost jigsaw puzzle." And of course, she hadn't been allowed to die. "Not everyone goes through something like that, but it's part of the process for all of us." "These Gentry sound like pretty sick fucks" Bronwyn glowers, giving Velvet another squeeze. "Sterile? Oh...that's... You really have it bad." A pause. "Which is such a stupid thing to say and doesn't come anywhere near covering the pain and horror you've had to suffer. I wish I could say something that captures my feelings about this but it's all so overwhelming. I can understand Olivia's reaction. If I couldn't think about all of this in terms of anthropology...I'd have finished off even more alcohol than I have. And I'd still be drinking. Maybe I can give her a call? Invite her over to chat about it...from a mere mortal perspective. It could help to have someone to talk to that is going through the same thing...which is not what you've had to go through." Releasing her friend, she returns to her chair and plonks down again. "There are plenty of kids you could adopt. Adopting one may even keep them out of the clutches of the Gentry if they are the kind of kids they steal." Velvet chuckles, but it's without any sort of actual humor. "It's alright. You don't have to quantify it," she assures. "I know it's fucked up, but I've had plenty of time to adjust. I was afraid for a while, but now it's my turn to make them afraid. If I kill enough of them, they will know, to hunt here is to risk a painful death." It's really all she's got in that regard. "Olivia would probably really like that. It'd help to have someone to talk to, I think. Someone that's not one of the Changelings. As for kids... there are rumors about special magic that can let you have kids. If it doesn't work out, then adopting is the route we'll go." Bronwyn nods along to Velvet's words before another mouthful of alcopop...it helps her think. "Or a surrogate" she offers with a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders. A nod to the papers. "Maybe Olivia can help me out with that but, yeah, let her know I'm happy to talk with her. Even if she didn't want strippers at the Hen's Night." Not that there was a Hen's Night. Or maybe there was and Bronwyn had such a good time she can't remember it...that's happened before. "Not that your wedding day turned out to be great either. I think you should do it again. Once all this has calmed down, do it so it has happy memories." She thinks on her words. "Or it could draw them out again. All those targets in one place..." "Or a surrogate. If that'll work, or just end up blank. I don't know. Right now, I told Weaver that there will be no children in the house until after this assassin stuff is taken care of. I won't lose another child to this." Velvet polishes off her drink as she studies Bron. She's doing a good job holding herself together, it's impressive, and that reads on Velvet's expression. "Well, we'd pledged to each other two weeks before anything else. This was more the mortal side of things. Making it legal and what have you. But a new reception isn't a bad idea. Some day." "Oh yeah...you'd need a surrogate for both of you." Bronwyn considers this dilemma. "Olivia is related to Weaver? So there would be some common DNA there. I dunno" she shrugs, "Just a thought. A bad one obviously. And, yeah, you have more pressing things to worry about." Another sip of her drink. "Don't think I've forgiven you for eloping either" she playfully admonishes before a deep breath and another look over the papers. It seems she wants to say something but in the great scheme of things it doesn't feel particularly important at the moment. Velvet reaches out for Bronwyn, squeezing her hand. "It wasn't a bad thought. You're trying to help and I appreciate that more than you could ever know." There's a slight chuckle at the mention of not being forgiven. "Oh, you have to forgive me. Considering how the reception turned out, can you imagine if there'd been a weeding as well?" "Thank Heaven for small mercies" Bronwyn smirks with regard to the wedding. "But I still won't forgive you" she teases. "I guess you and Weaver are waiting for me to decipher this before you can get any further? I should probably get back to work then. Umm...Velvet...if things are calm, and it's totally understandable if they're not, would you and Weaver like to come round for dinner on the 2nd? Monday. It's...umm...it's my birthday." "Don't strain yourself doing it. I still have one of them captured, just waiting to be interrogated. So take your time." Velvet stands up, walking over to press a kiss to Bron's head. "We'll be here," she promises. "It's your birthday, I wouldn't miss it for the world. But for right now, I'll leave you to it.