Difference between revisions of "Log:Hands Like Tin Part 1"

23 July, 2018

The Iron Tongues need help once more. There's no threat from any outsiders this time, but the problem is internal. One of the factory née homes they've repurposed has a problem with its apotheopic cogwheel and this is has only worsened the problems of their glamour conversion pumps. While the hobs are handy in their own right, they need the help of people with a bit more strength. Also because there may be a glamour-mite infestation where things have collapsed. Whoops. Part of Perfected Metals.

Lakeside Lodge, Riverside Markets, Rainbowside Markets, Alley Escape, Row Houses, Suburban Sprawl

Whatever routine Olivia was used to has likely gone to the dogs at this point. Velvet, Weaver, and both hedge beasts are catigorical night owls without too much care for the sun. Now that the sun's gone down Weaver is active and about while Velvet's out of the house for work. There's a rap on the door, more forceful than usual and a call from the elder dragon of the Utridges. "Olivia? You up?"

Olivia doesn't have too much routine. She eats and sleeps, sometimes tries to figure out what the hell she's good at now, and occasionally sits outside. Never straying too far from the house. Olivia's sleeping patterns generally mirror those of the others in the house, even if it's just out of necessity. She's watching TV when he 'knocks' on the door and her gaze lifts to look over. "Yeah, what's up?"

"Get up, and get dressed. I need to go out, and you need to go with me." Quick and to the point, unusual for Weaver at times. "I need to go do something in the Hedge. Velvet is out, no one else in town is actually awake, and there aren't too many I trust right about now." A beat passes and he sighs. "I got something in my brain wiped, and I don't 100% remember what it was and why. I know you're afraid. I get that you don't really know what this new fucking life'll give you, but I just need you to put it aside for one night if you can." Then he caves almost immediately, and ends it with a "Please, Liv."

Olivia blinks a little bit owlishly at him, staring with a bit of confusion and surprise. She doesn't interrupt him, listening attentively to his reasoning. Yes, she is afraid. No, she's not entirely sure what she can do to help. But she's also not one to leave her cousin in a lurch, especially now. Olivia sighs and rubs her hands over her face, unfolding herself from the bed and getting up onto her feet. "I'm not sure how helpful I'll be, but okay."

"You're an ogre. Even if you don't really know how to fight too well you can make yourself strong. Just think about any kind anger and rage, and it just easily comes out." Says the man that rampaged through his own home in a fit of pique. He spreads his arms, palms facing her. "I have some spare armor that'll be decent enough if you think you might get hurt, but I'm gonna wager on you being tougher than me with all that icy shit." Then Weaver drops his hands, sighs, and drops his gaze for a few seconds. "Velvet said I need to stop looking at you like we're still kids, and you're the little kid I still look after like a hawk. No more of the adorable shit or any of that fuckery. I want to actually see it, though. To know that I can guarantee that you're safe without me trying to force my way on things. So, I'm in a shit bind, and I need more than just okay, Liv. I need to know that you're sure you can handle this as much as anyone else can."

Olivia considers the offer of armor, head tilting a bit. "I mean, I can do the ice armor thing. We've seen that. I don't know that I'm tougher than you, though. More unpredictable, for sure." She walks over towards him, listening to him and reaching out her hands to gently rest them on his shoulders. "I can't give you more than 'okay' right now. Because there is a LOT that I don't know. I haven't had to rely on instinct, but it's a powerful thing. I haven't done much fighting beyond my sparring with you, which is better than nothing. But I'm still saying 'okay' instead of no. If I couldn't do it, if I wasn't willing to at least try, I wouldn't say okay." She gives him a small smile, gently tipping his chin up so that his gaze can find hers. "So. Okay."

Weaver sighs again, and nods. "Okay." Since her de facto bedroom was also the training area getting armor for her was easy enough and quickly done. Weaver, however, goes without anything save a t-shirt and jeans. "Worst case scenario, we have to run before we get there. We're gonna meet these hobs I know named The Iron Tongues. Great people, really. They also won't stab you in the back. That's the best part, and-" he stops when near the gun cabinet. "I never have asked, but you any good with guns?"

Olivia isn't used to wearing armor, but she dons what he hands her anyway, shifting and moving a little bit to get used to the feel of it. "I don't know what a hob is," she tells him. "Nice to know that they aren't the back-stabbing types, though." She looks vaguely amused at the question of whether she's good with guns and shakes her head slowly. "Not even a little. I'm not likely to hit anything."

The armor is simplistic in design, although rather odd in fashion. It appears to be made from twig and vine, but seems sturdy enough to stop a small blade at the least. Weaver does opt to take a shotgun, cocks it once, and then grabs a bag of shells. to be held at his hip. "Do your ice thing now, and we'll start walking from home." After saying that Weaver leaves her room, and motions for her to follow as he heads up to his and Velvet's room.

Olivia pauses for a few moments as he suggests doing her ice thing. It doesn't take too long for her to tap into that, at least, having had some practice with it at this point. She soon follows along after Weaver, half-jogging to catch up and head into his and Velvet's room. That's where that portal thing is, after all. "How far is it?"

"From the top of the mountain, down, that, and then." His voice trails off, and he curses under his breath. "Other option. You're going out of the house, and we're gonna ride over to the riverside. We're also gonna get something from the gas station on the way because I haven't had shit to eat and you can probably do with something unhealthy anyway."

"I need something unhealthy?" Olivia looks confused by that suggestion. She looks down at herself briefly before looking back at him. "I have no idea what this is going to look like to anyone that can't see it. But if you need to get something to eat, then let's go. I can always wait in the car if I have to."

"It's gonna look like a biker outfit," Weaver points out as he does a 180, and begins to walk back downstairs. "By unhealthy I mean a hotdog or whatever kinda burrito they got. Shit like that makes for good trade to. Hobs are like these things in the hedge. Some are kinda like people. Some are more like animals." Fido barks from behind them, and Weaver adds, "Some can look like animals, but be as smart as people to. We're gonna try not to piss them off, though."

Olivia turns on her heel and makes her way back down the stairs behind him, following only a few steps behind. "I like hot dogs. And burritos." And food in general. She's not generally a picky eater. She nods as she listens to his explanation, thinking. "So grab like... a dozen hot dogs? Or bowls of nachos? Chicken wings? I don't know what we need to trade for or how much that stuff is worth to them." Her eyes shift back towards Fido briefly as he barks, but she is not nearly as alarmed by the hedgebeast as she used to be. "Do you want a hot dog, too?"

"You gotta come in for what you want, Liv. You can stay away from humans forever, and the worst some gas station attendant might do is look at you funny." Weaver grabs his keys from off the wall. He opens the door, standing at the threshold until Olivia comes along. "And Fido's one of the smart ones. Kinda." This upsets the hedge beast, and earns a rumbling growl for Weaver. "What I mean is that it's best just not to judge a book by its cover."

Olivia sighs HEAVILY at the news that she has to go inside. "Except lots of the people I thought were humans actually aren't," she mutters, somewhat indignantly versus fearfully. It's an improvement. She pauses at the door, hesitating for a moment before taking a deep breath and stepping through it. "I've gotten really good at not judging a book by its cover. It's all weird now."

"It's always weird - Changelings or not." Weaver then moves over to his car, and calls over to her, "Make sure to lock the door." Before he even has a chance to get into his own seat Fido's hopped inside, and already moving about to get into the back seat. "We can even get you a slushie, but I'm gonna guess that something like that may as well be regular water now huh?"

Olivia reaches back, locking the door behind her as she steps out of the house and walks over to the car. Her eyes flick left and right, surveying the area as she ends up outside. Exposed. In the open. She climbs in on the other side of the car, taking a deep breath and smirking a little bit. "It may as well be, yes. But I still like them. Sugar."

"All the fucking sugar, yeah. That it's so bad for you is what makes it great." He nods sagely to that, cranks up the car, and pulls out of the driveway. "Maybe even something with lots of beans, and-" Weaver shakes his head. "Maybe not that. Last time I gave something like that to Fido he stunk up the entire fucking house for a week."

Olivia snorts at the mention of beans, giving him a somewhat dry sort of look. "You had to experiment with that to find out he would stink up the house?" She turns her gaze out the window, watching the world as it passes her by. It's the same, but different. Her fingertips gently tap against the door, an almost-silent fidgety motion.

The drive isn't terribly long, although Weaver remains quiet and lets the radio play. Weaver pulls into the parking lot of a gas station nearest their destination, hopping out quickly so the hedge beast can stretch his legs again. "C'mon," her cousing calls as he heads for the door inside.

It's out of the house. It's long enough. Olivia doesn't hyperventilate or panic, but she fidgets. She squirms a bit. She chews slightly on her lower lip, hesitating a bit as the vehicle comes to a stop before she opens the door and slowly eases herself out, walking over to follow Weaver inside.

Two other cars are in the parking lot: an older station wagon and a mid-size SUV. A middle-aged woman pumps gas and gives both Weaver and Olivia a brief once over before returning to filling up her tank. Inside, there's a young, twenty-something behind the cash register while thre other patrons walk around the various aisles. Weaver points over to the counter opposite the entrance where the slushie machine sits: one dark blue, the middle a bit lighter, and the last an odd purple. "Left is blueberry, middle is this weird raspberry shit, and right is cherry coke," he notes before departing to decide on what he's going to devour.

Olivia almost cringes under the scrutiny, mild as it may be. She feels like she stands out, with bright glowing neon arrows pointing at her. Any look in her direction feels uncomfortable. One hand reaches out briefly, gripping Weaver's elbow tightly for a moment before she releases him again, nodding as she crosses the room over to the slushie machine. Her drink of choice? Apparently the weird raspberry shit. "Do you want one?" she calls over to her cousin.

"Mix all of them up," because of course the Moon Courtier takes the likely and most disgusting option. Eventually he settles on a mess of meat and cheese forced into a tortilla, and after deciding on a douzen of them he shoves two in a microwave. This draws the attention of one of the patrons as he stars at Weaver impatiently.

"Gross." Yes, she'll still tell him his eating habits are gross, but she obliges nonetheless. Olivia dumps some of each into the cup for him, making sure the lid is secure before she stabs a straw in there. She looks back over towards Weaver as he microwaves the mess of so-called food, instead turning her own attention to the hot dogs.

The hot dogs are on a conveyer belt that keeps them rotated under a lamp. While she looks over them a faint pop echoes behind her as another of the people there waits behind her. "Get the taquitos. The hotdogs are murder," he points out with a crooked grin. Weaver eventually finishes heating up his own food and moves to the cash register. "It's not gross, it tastes fucking amazing."

Olivia glances back towards the person behind her as he suggests the taquitos instead, shrugging a bit. She doesn't mind one way or the other. Bad food is bad food. "Alright sure, I'll get some of those," she says, pointing at the taquitos before craning her head briefly in Weaver's direction. "It's gross."

The man behind the counter just nods, grabs a pair of tongs, and grabs a few to place in a paper for her. They're handed off to her as he starts ringing the Utridges up. Before he can finish naming the price Weaver reaches into his pocket for his wallet, and places the cash on the counter. "Thanks," he says with as much care and kindess as can be expected from a dragon as he takes his bag of food and mixture of slushie with him.

Olivia gathers up what's left of the food and turns to follow her cousin out of the gas station. Closely. It might be uncomfortable, but she's being careful not to catch his heels as she scuttles out of the building behind him. "I hated that," she hisses quietly at him, heading back to the car and glancing back the way they came. It's a habit now, constantly looking over her shoulder.

Weaver keeps moving so she doesn't bump into him, but he's barely able to contain a laugh while doing so. "You don't have a thing to be scared of with them, Liv. Especially as an ogre, but better that than you flipping your shit. It's what I did the first time I tried to be normal with people, but we always got a problem with our tempers." It's hard to say if that last one is about the family or the seeming. Fido had been waiting outside, immediately wanting his food for his patience and Weaver's quick to give it to the hedge beast. "It's a start, and you got something tasty out of it."

"No one tried to touch me. I was more afraid than angry. But I imagine that could change." Olivia wrinkles her nose a bit and climbs into the car, plunking herself down and locking the car door. "Yes, I did get something tasty. You? You got something gross," she tells him, passing over the mixed up slushie drink. "So what are we doing with these hobs?"

"The Iron Tongues are friends of mine, or as close as friends can be with me anyway." Weaver starts the walk towards the gate with the bag held in his wrist and his drink in hand. "They've run into a spot of really bad and shitty bad luck. So I figure it'd be good to help them out. An olive branch and a helping hand. That kinda shit."

Olivia scampers along after him, continuing to look around carefully. Though she's not finding anything. Which isn't a bad thing. "Well we'll see, then. See what they need. Better to have them on your side, right?" It seems to make sense in her head, as much as any of this makes sense. Which isn't all that much. "Anything specific we can do to help, or yet to be seen?"

As they near the gate Weaver says, "We're already on each other's side. They aren't Changelings or humans, but they're still friends of mine. I can tell you more specifics on another day. It's a long story, but one you might have a laugh at." At the archway Weaver sets his drink down, knocks on the threshold of nothingness, and then a path opens to another world. The markets and stalls insidet look similar to those on the human side of the world, although the vendors are anything but.

Olivia's eyes widen a bit as the path opens and she can see some very not-human things on the other side. "...oh." It's really all she can say about that before stepping forward to move through the gate. It's the first time she's gone back to that side since her escape, and she's still not sure how she feels about it.

Unlike the various worlds of green and stone from what she saw in her escape, this area is much more urban and modern. From the markets they head towards and through the alley. Despite its mundane appearance, the shadows grow taller and the trod thinner. Light is scant, and serve the dual purposes of beacon and safe haven in the darkness. As they move along the sights of something in the darkness can be heard scuttling about.

Olivia studies each of the stalls as they pass, making a few mental notes as they go. Who is selling things, what they're selling. None of it is familiar, really, but she notes it anyway. Folling Weaver, she walks along just a little bit behind him, letting him take the lead. He has an idea of where he's going at least.

Weaver doesn't see it. His mind's too much on keeping track of Olivia. He betrays himself with the occasional stolen glance back to his cousin, to which he gives a comforting smile. While giving one of those smiles he doesn't see it in the night sky above. A bird of some kind, big enough to block out severl dozen stars.

Olivia doesn't look too reassured. There's nothing about this area that's reassuring. It's all kinds of uncomfortable. When he looks back in her direction, she is looking skyward, and her expression shifts to one of vague concern, a frown appearing on her face before she lifts one hand to point it out to him. "What's that?"

"What's what?" he asks with a quirk of his brow. By the time he turns around its too late, and the beast is already snatched him up by the shoulders. The thing is a violet-hued beast with the body of most raptors, but the head of an owl. It sqawks as it takes off with its new, thrashing meal that's constantly swearing as the bird goes higher and higher.

Olivia yelps as the beast swoops down and grabs Weaver, making a grab for her cousin without much success. At least he has wings if it decides to drop him. "HEY!" She looks around the immediate area, looking for SOMETHING to help her. Except she has no idea what she's looking for, so she starts to give chase from the ground.

Weaver's shouting soon turns to roaring. A gout of noxious flame shoots out of his mouth, barely grazing the beasts underbelly. It does make the beast's trip up even worse. The next breath from Weaver finds it's way to the hedge beasts wings, and it goes careening downward. It lets Weaver go, and he isn't as lucky. The dragon tries to right himself as best he can on the way down. The silver lining: he's not dead. The bad news about his crash is that it ends up with him landing hard enough on his back that he gets the wind knocked out of him and his wings broken. Te beast turned out to be much better, and landed well enough that it may be used to such falls. It begins to approach Weaver now, hopping forward to get back to its meal.

Olivia can't do anything but watch as Weaver fights back from the air. It makes it easier to follow their trail, at least. She finds her footing fairly easily, chasing the pair from below while Weaver attacks the beast from above. When he hits the ground, she slides to a stop just briefly enough to make sure that her cousin isn't dead or almost dead. She can come back to him when the most immediate threat is gone. Which is the big bird beast thing.

Olivia turns her focus on the beast now, eyes narrowing as she gives a brief snarl, sharp teeth showing. Despite her uncertainty, there is a protective edge that is NOT going to stay hidden. The ice-covered woman interposes herself between the beast and Weaver, keeping him behind her as she watches the creature's next movement, ready to launch herself bodily into the creature to shred its flesh.

The beast shrieks when Olivia sets herself in between it and Weaver. It isn't too picky, and an icy changeling is as good as a toxic one. It lunghes forward, snapping its beak at Olivia until it finds an opening. That opening, however, comes with her icy armor retaliating against it and it gets even louder.

The beast lunges at her and Olivia holds her ground, lunging back to meet its assault with her own sharpened claws. She snarls angrily and slashes viciously at the beast's neck and face while it pecks at her icy armor, seeking a vulnerability that is not as vulnerable as it looks. It hurts, sure, but the armor she's covered herself with does a good job of blunting the worst of it.

The hedge beast can only take so much, and that clawing hurt like hell. It quickly and hastily returns the favor. It can't fly with that busted wing, but it can at least flap enough to kick at he air and tear at Olivia's chest with those razor sharp talons.

Chunks of ice get ripped off of her body as the beast tears at her chest, and that REALLY hurts. Olivia shrieks at the pain, lifting one hand briefly to touch where she SHOULD be bleeding, but for now, it's all ice. She gathers her wits and launches herself back at the beast, her own claws reaching out to slice deeply into the beast's flesh.

The hedge beast could only take so much, and that last swipe was enough. Its breast is a mess of blood, feathers, and exposed tissue when it finally collapses with a heavy thud. Lukcily, Weaver is just now getting to his feet, although he needs Fido to help him up. The broken bones in his wings and the pain in his back isn't the worst of it. No, the worst of it is that that he now has four different kinda cheeses and meat on his ass after landing on the food he was hoping to bring to the hobs. "Fucking shit," he grumbles.

Olivia snarls quietly down at the beast as it falls, making sure that it's not going to get up again before she turns to step back towards Weaver as he gets back up onto his feet. "Are you okay?" she asks, gently pressing her hand against the biggest wound at her chest, head tilting slightly so she can look Weaver over. "You have cheese on your ass."

"Aside from my wings I'm fine. I can just break the kinks outta those in no time, and I'll be right as rain." Weaver may be good at hiding his own pain, but he can't control his anger some times. Like a dog chasing his tail he spins around a few times to see if what Olivia says is true. "Just fuck," he grouses. "Let's just keep going."

Olivia tilts her head a bit, squinting at her cousin with vague concern before nodding slowly. "Well I have no idea where we are, or where we're going, but my everything hurts right now. So you're going to have to lead the way, and I hope we don't see another one of those things." Her brows rise slightly and she seems vaguely amused as he tries to look at his own ass. "There's cheese."

"We're in Alley Escape," responds the injured Ogre. "We started out in Rainbowside. We need to head past the row houses, and into the suburban sprawl. After that it's about an hour's walk to reach The Iron Tongues. Just to be on the safe side, hold my shoulder. Fido's gonna lead us because we won't see soon." Soon is the next second as his mantle flares. THe tenebrous dragon that makes up his umbra widens and envelopes them both as he starts moving immediately after feeling Olivia's hand.

"An hour?" Olivia says, looking almost dismayed. "That's... a long walk." And she is very sore. And not sure exactly how injured she is, since she isn't used to getting hurt, much less getting hurt in this form. She reaches her hand over to curl her fingers around his own, stepping in close so that she doesn't lose him.

He gives her fingers a light squeze, the pride heard in his voice even with that bit of pain there. "You're doing fine, cousin. Trust." The walk is as long as he said, although no more dangers present themselves along the way. Eventually they do reach where they should be. The repeated and loud clinks of metal alongside Fido's barking are enough for Weaver to drop the cloak of shadow around them. This late at night even most of the hobs are sleep, but a few are still moving and working.

The hobs aren't that much taller than a child, although it's plain to see that the ones out and about are adults. Not all of them are colored the same, but each has one thing in common. Prosthetics replacing lost limbs and digits with a few even sporting completely new heads. One of the hobs comes up, and waves a metal claw at Weaver and then stares at Olivia. "Who's she?"

Olivia holds his hand securely, nodding slightly in the dark at his reassurance. He won't be able to see it, but he can likely sense the subtle movement. She walks steadily along, setting her jaw slightly to push through the aches of her injuries. How does one heal up an ice person? Water? She's busy contemplating this as they arrive wherever it is that they've gone, eyes blinking a few times as the shadow drops and she can actually see what's around them.

Olivia takes a few moments to look around, her hand still holding Weaver's tightly unless he wriggles his fingers free of her grip. When the hob comes over to greet them, she focuses her gaze on the small-statured person. Not answering yet, she leaves that to her cousin.

The one standing before them is an older hob with mutton chops and long hair bound tightly in a ponytail. His skin's the color of amber, and his eyes gleam in the pale moonlight. "She's family," Weaver says. "Like-" "Family. That's it." THe hob nods slowly, eyeing over Olivia just long enough for it to be rude before moving on. "You all look bad. We can give you something, but not much. We've had problems with our glamour conversion pumps and could sure use the help." Weaver mulls that over, turning back to Olivia as well. "You up for staying the night here? They make this really fucking amazing bramblebeer that'll make you smack your mother over it."

Olivia fidgets a little uncomfortably under the scrutiny of the hob, looking down at herself briefly to try and pick out what he may be looking at before her eyes lift to look at the man again. And she doesn't understand any of what he says, really. She glances sideways towards Weaver at his question, looking at him blankly. "I don't know what that is," she tells him. "And I don't know what's safe and what's not, so I'm following your lead on this."

Weaver nods slowly. "Then ask, Liv. No one's gonna bite your head off for asking a question. Except the antillions. They will, but they aren't around this part of the hedge so we're safe there. Here, I mean. We're safe here." The hob starts walking off, and calls to them, "You can stay the night, sure, but you've gotta work come morning or afternoon. None of that illusion business of yours either, Weaver." This gets a roll of the eyes, but she knows him well enough to try to get out of work by any means necessary. "We also got some dream-a-drupes, but that'll mean extra work."

Olivia takes a deep breath, squinting a bit as they keep using terms she doesn't understand. "I don't know what bramblebeer, dream-a-drupes, or antillions are. Don't know what they look like, and don't know what they're for. Is it safe to sleep here? Is there a first aid kit or something? Not to mention, how does an ice-person even GET stitched up? Ice cubes?" Olivia gestures idly over towards the hob. "And work. What kind of work is he talking about? Hauling things? Building things?"

"Bramblebeer is this really sweet drink with hedge fruit. Dream-A-Drupes are this healing fruit. They only grow so many at a time. Antillions are like ants, but kinda weird and curious. They also like to wear human faces that they've ripped off." Weaver smiles, as if all this is fine and normal. It's Olivia's normal now. "You may be kinda icy, but your guts work mostly the same. Mostly." The homes of the hobs appear to be several houses that have been fused together by metallic walkways or larger additions to form an overlarge factory of sorts. "And Ulidia probably needs help defending something or moving stuff around since we're bigger."

"Faces," Olivia echoes. "That they've ripped off." That is not normal. She blinks at him, staring for a moment before shaking her head. "Good grief." She rubs at the side of her head and sighs a bit, looking down at herself. "Okay, so then how do I patch this up? I can't very well go to the hospital right now. For many reasons." She glances back towards the houses, looking them over. "Defending stuff? I won't be of much use for that right now."

"The fruit heals you. It's magic," Weaver notes. "That's gonna be my answer to a lotta shit, and you'll get the same shit from other people. It's just how the Wyrd works, honestly. You learn to accept it, or you learn to be miserable about it. Same for why you can do all that ice juju."

Olivia blinks a few times, processing. She lifts her hands to lightly scrub at her face, sighing heavily. "Alright. Magic. I'm not miserable about it. I just... don't entirely understand most of it. Which is sort of why the whole 'it's magic' thing works." She puffs out a small breath between her lips. "So fruit, then. That's the stuff that you and Velvet have had in the house, right?"

"Had, yeah. Right now we got some catseye clover in the garden, but I don't think we got any healing fruit. Not really." Weaver shrugs to that, and moves over to wrap his arm around her shoulder for a brief, tight hug that causes him to wince in pain. "It's magic is gonna be the answer for a lotta this shit. That's just the way the game goes, Liv."

Olivia leans into the hug, relaxing somewhat at the embrace. "Ow." It still hurts. She takes a deep breath and nods slowly. "Alright then. Magic. Sleep. Fruit. So where are we supposed to sleep? These... hobs... are obviously hosting us. What's proper manners?"