Difference between revisions of "Log:The Icy Dragon"

14 July, 2018

Olivia finds out more about her Wyrd self, and almost goes outside. Almost.

Lakeside Lodge

Weaver had been hidden the last few days, and the times he did come home he immediately passed out when doing so. After yesterday, though, he'd been up and active. As active as a lazy dragon could be. He's up again in the evening, and knocking on the studio. He'd only heard bits of what Velvet had done, and is now checking in on Olivia.

Velvet has made the studio an extremely comfortable place for Olivia, and with the summer heat less than fun, Olivia seems content to stay here in the air conditioning. She watches TV on a tablet, and mostly keeps to herself. Occasionally, she pokes her head out at night when the worst of the heat is gone, but the high temperature of the weather bothers her more than it used to. When Weaver knocks, she shouts over towards the door; it isn't locked. "Come in!"

Weaver opens the door, peeking in first just to make sure. He steps in, his usual tanktop and pajamas when at the house. "You seem to be adjusting well," he notes with a smile when entering. He looks around for a bit, examining all that's changed now. "Never thought this place would be a bedroom," he points out. "Maybe a place somebody gets knocked out, but still."

"I didn't think that, either." Olivia looks up and looks around, studying the room. It's noticably cooler in the studio at the moment, but not quite dipping down near freezing. "Velvet didn't have to set this up for me. I'm pretty good at sleeping like... everywhere. But it's nice." She looks back over towards him, brows rising curiously. "How are you feeling?"

Weaver frowns initially, but then he smiles. "You're family. We not be obligated to do anything for you, but we want to." He moves to sit on the floor, and admits, "Better than before, but we got some more stuff to talk about. Nothing you did or any shit like that, but I wanna try this completely being honest with family thing some more."

Olivia nods a bit. "I know. Velvet's sort of new to the family, though. I don't want her to feel obligated. I'm taking up quite a bit of time, I think. She's been helping me a lot." Really, she does seem more comfortable than she used to be. Her brows rise curiously and she closes the screen on her tablet, setting it to one side and nodding to him. "Alright, what's up?"

"I already told you the shit with Dietrich. He's dead now if you didn't already know." Weaver plops down, careful of his wings when doing so. "It's thanks to all of his bullshit that I got stabbed at the reception by the fetch we thought about adopting, why I got shot at Bronwyn's house, and again got shot, this time by Velvet. Basically, he used me as a shield at the last second or some shit, and he put me in the way. I don't really remember that, but that's what Velvet said happened. It's probably true after all the bullshit that's gone down. Then there's this other thing. Has Velvet told you about Motleys and shit like that?"

"I didn't," Olivia says, shaking her head a bit. But she can't really hide the small look of relief that washes over her features; the odds of her getting kidnapped again are far less with him gone. As far as she knows. "Guy sounds like an asshole. Who has friends with guns. And you need kevlar." She shrugs a bit, clasping her hands and resting them in her lap. "No, I don't know what that is."

"Our Aunt Dani healed me up, and I'm completely fine. Well mostly fine." Weaver shrugs, and pulls at the front of his shirt to peek at the wound. "Just some scars and shit." He smiles widely to that, and leans back. He continues on after finding a bit of comfort on the wall. "The short of it is Motleys are like this group of fuckers that sticks together through thick and thin, by oath and action. It's changeling that get the fuck together, swear to protect each other, and try to keep shit together. "

Olivia tilts her head slightly, studying his new scars briefly before looking back up towards his face. She listens to his explanation, brows rising with a faintly amused sort of expression that appears on her face. "So basically all the shit that we're already doing," she notes with a small smile. "Though I'm not sure how good I'll be at the protecting thing right now. Near as I can tell, I'm just... good at making things cold."

Weaver pushes himself up again. He stretches his arms high, and his wings out. "Two things then. Maybe three. First, I want to do a motley between all of us in the family that're tied to the Wyrd. It's not just about what we're already doing, but it's blessed and empowered by the Wyrd. THink of it like some blessed by God bullshit." He points over to the weapons to the side, then. "We're gonna train for a bit to see some of what you can do. So long as we don't tear shit up we should be fine."

Hey, she doesn't flinch this time as he stands and stretches out, getting far bigger than he usually is. Olivia just looks at him, blinking slowly. "Sure, that makes sense to me. We're already helping each other out, so why not do something like that? It doesn't sound like a bad idea to me." Eyes flick over towards the weapons at the side of the room and she squints briefly before looking back towards him. "I get the impression one or both of us is gonna end up bruised here."

"I'm already bruised, Liv, so we may be good there." Weaver laughs at the thought, seemingly to at ease with the thought of his own pain. "Anyway, it's time to get up and we can go from there. First thing I want you to do is hit me," he says while going into a defensive stance. Hands up, face guarded, ready to move at a moment's notice. "Worst case, you knock me out. Best case, nothing happens and that gives me some kinda idea."

Olivia unfolds herself from the bed and slides off onto the floor, rising up onto her feet and stretching her arms up above her head briefly. "Hit you. Okay." She drops her hands from above her head, looking at them briefly before crossing the room over towards him. One eye squints a bit, peering at him somewhat hesitantly. When she does take a swing at him, it's not hard to tell that she's not using all the tools at her disposal, though whether that's by choice or lack of knowledge is unclear.

Weaver deftly and easily takes the impact, and brushes aside her arm. "I seriously hope that's not it. I can't tell if you're using literally every-fucking-thing, but I can tell if you're using something. Kinda. It's like this." He moves away, looking around the room until he comes to the rack of weapons. A rush of glamour courses through him, and with surprising ease he lifts it all with his pinky, and then sets it down. "If you're that afraid still, we can wait to see what you can do."

Olivia looks at him almost sheepishly, cringing a little bit and shaking her head. "It isn't that I'm afraid. It's just... I haven't really tried any of that yet. And it isn't the same as it used to be. So it's... different." Olivia lifts her brows a bit as he lifts the rack of weapons, looking from it over to her cousin. "Show off. Fine. Let's try this. I'm not... I don't really fully remember HOW this works. This is one of those mostly-instinct things, I think?"

Weaver scoffs at the notion of being a showoff. "No I ain't. This is perfectly normal for Ogres like me. There's other things I've picked up over time, but I'm more wondering what it is you are and can do now." He stops to look her up and down, head canting slightly. "Still getting used to you with the new hair, but that's beside the point. Go ahead, and show me what it is you're talking."

"Ogre?" She squints curiously, tilting her head a bit. Olivia's seen him, but there's never been a name put to the description. She stands still as he comes over to look her over, glancing down at herself briefly before looking back up at him. "I'm... not sure. Anyway. Yes, new hair. I'm not sure if I like it, yet. But sure, fine, I'll hit you." She rolls her shoulders a bit, thinking for a brief moment before actually digging down deep to pull out some of that strength that she's almost forgotten about, taking another swing at him. This time, though, she's got a lot more oomph behind it as she lets the glamour flow through her.

Weaver nods at her repeating the word, and then waits. He was probably going to make some joke about her hair or some such, but that doesn't come up. Instead he follows her hand as it swings at his face, and then catches it right on the jaw. A scale falls off, and he rubs at his chin for a moment. "Good. I know you couldn't hit me like that before." He then moves to the side, and looks around for a moment. He turns around to set the weapons on the rack off, and then holds that in front of her. "Those claws of yours are just fucking adorable, but I wonder how much they can do. Try to claw through this."

Her brows hitch up slightly as she actually hits him, and he lets her. "Shit I'm sorry," Olivia says quickly, looking a bit worried. She doesn't WANT to hurt him. "I didn't spend a lot of time hitting you before." Olivia rubs at the back of her head as he turns to the weapons rack, following a few steps behind him. She gives him a somewhat dry look as he calls her claws 'adorable.' She gets called a lot of things; adorable is new. "Adorable?" Olivia looks down at her hand for a moment before baring her tiny claws to take a swipe at the weapon.

The front row is sliced down the middle as she cuts down it, and he looks at like an elder to a child. He toss it aside, and then pats the top of her head. "Yes, adorable. You're like this little..." Weaver's voice trails off for a beat, and he smiles again. "Anyway, what can you do with the ice-thing. I saw you kinda have spikes or some shit like that. Looked like Elemental stuff, but you're an Ogre. Likely Draconic too with those teeth and claws. So show me that ice thing, baby dragon."

Olivia scowls at him as he pats her head, looking somewhat indignant as she lifts her hand to bat his away. "Quit it," she half-heartedly grumbles. "I'm not adorable." Her head tilts as he starts to give her some labels, some definition of what she's become, squinting thoughtfully. "I'm... a dragon ogre? How does... is that even a thing?" She shakes her head a bit, puffing out a small breath between her lips. "Oookay. So ice then. What kind of ice? I think I managed to get armor by the time you and Velvet arrived that day."

Weaver laughs when told to quit, and laughs even louder at her rebuke. "Look at me for a second. It's complicated, but yes. Draconic. Ogre. Ice-thing. Snow?" He shrugs, this getting into things he doesn't quite understand. "Yeah. Can you do that kinda thing? Is it like the only thing you can do with that?"

Olivia closes her eyes for a moment, looking thoughtful as she tries to think of SOMETHING that feels at least a little bit familiar. "I'm not sure. It might be. I haven't tried pulling on that little thread too much. But I guess I'll try. Because... well, I gotta learn. Because no fire anymore." Olivia thinks for a moment, going quiet while she lets more of the glamour flow. And probably more than either of them are anticipating for someone so new and unfamiliar with what to even call herself. The transformation is rapid, the high-pitched sound of ice as it crackles filling the room briefly as she literally freezes over. Not just armor; she IS ice.

Weaver was calm when the armor showed. That wasn't too powerful nor a surprise to him. What she pulls off next surprises even him as his eyes go wide. "Well, damn. That isn't adorable." He circles her slowly, and stops to rap a knuckle on her shoulder. Yep. Ice. "Still adorable, but that's just badass."

Olivia opens her eyes as he raps on her shoulder, turning slightly to look at him, not immediately realizing what she's done at first. She glowers again as he calls her adorable. Twice. "I know where you sleep," she reminds him before stretching her arms out, shifting her posture and stance, moving from one foot to the other as she gets used to the strange feeling of being an ice statue. "I wasn't expecting this. But there you go. This would explain why I like the room cold."

"You may know where I sleep, but killing me'd be damn hard. I'm either really lucky or got some kinda guardian angel. That reminds me, though. The last thing I need to tell you." All mirth's gone from Weaver as he changes subjects. "So, yeah. I'm a thief, and not just some ass that steals from random fuckers on the street. I've broken into and out of more things than I can count, and stolen more things than you probably can realize. I used that as an in with some bad kinda people-" He pauses, smiling briefly. "Not our kinda bad people, but you know what I mean. Killers, crooks, whatever. I've met 'em here, abroad, in, and out of the country. I've moved and stolen things fro them as needed, and I've gotten a bit of help from them over the years. The reason I'm telling you all this is that I don't think I can do it anymore. All the lies, manipulations, and everything else led to me almost losing everything."

"I don't need to kill you. Just take a nap. Like this. I'm sure it melts," Olivia says, giving him a too-sweet sort of smile. She listens to him as he speaks, telling her all the stuff that she probably knew on some level, but maybe not to this extent. She's certainly no saint, but not anything like what he's describing to her. Olivia looks vaguely concerned as he speaks, thinking for a few moments before offering some kind of response. "So what do you need to do to get out? It sounds like a gang of sorts, and they don't usually like to let people go."

"That's where we do get to our kinda people. I am with a group of Changelings like that, but they don't usually take too well to anyone leaving." Weaver sighs, and starts rubbing at the back of his neck. "I don't know an out that means no trouble for anyone just yet, but I know I can't do it anymore. At least not like this. Because fucking shit do I just wanna sleep nowadays, and not have to do it wondering if some other fucking decision might get someone hurt or fucking worse."

Olivia hums thoughtfully, shifting on her feet and looking around the room, the sound of ice crackling with each movement causing her to pause and peer down at herself. "...this is weird," she mutters before returning her gaze to Weaver. "I mean, you might be able to fake your own death, but we'd have to move if you did that. If they're in the area or have contacts here who might spot you. Depending how big that group is, just kill them all. Otherwise, find some way to make things even. Pay them, blackmail them, swear that you'll keep it to yourself... I don't know." She gives him a somewhat sympathetic look at his desire to sleep. "I get that. I mean, you could sleep here if you wanted, but Velvet might take offense."

"It's not that simple. Not completely anyway." Weaver flexes his eings out while crossing his arms over his chest. "It's an entitl-and no one has tuaght you that part too. Cliff's notes. Entitlements. They're like the specialized class when you don't just wanna do boring as fuck regular chemistry but like chemiestry specifically for shit like making soda. Instead of just some run of the mil criminal shit, we are a bit different. On top of all that, I don't know how many of us there are at all. Can't say I know any in the city, but that means jack and shit. Money doesn't mean too much to us, and you'll figure that out in time anyway."

Olivia nods as he explains, taking mental notes. She hums thoughtfully, squinting and shaking her head. "I don't know what else I can suggest. You've dug a pretty deep hole. Could you attempt to take over leadership? Or does it not really work that way? And you don't have to buy people out with money. Sometimes they will take other things." She shakes her hand a bit, flexing her fingers as she begins to dismiss the whole 'be an ice cube' thing, transforming back into her usual self. What constitutes usual for her now, anyway.

"No central leadership or shit like that. That's part of the strength of the group. What was the biggest advantage makes this the biggest pain in the fucking ass." Weaver groans, looks off towards the door. He was going to add something else, but soon the alarm goes off on his phone. "Oh fuck." He hastily reaches into it, and yanks it out to frown at it. "So I may have promised Aunt Dani that I'd help move somethings. I'll still do all the moving, but you're coming with me. You need to get outside some more anyway, and it's family."

Olivia's nose wrinkles at the news that she should be going with him. She makes a face at the news of going outside, shaking her head at him and taking a half-step back. "I go outside," she protests. "On the patio. And the yard." Immediate vicinity, really. "So go help Aunt Dani if you're supposed to be doing that. She's expecting you, not me. It's hot outside. And no, I didn't think I'd ever be complaining about things being too hot."

"My car has air conditioning, and the same's true for the hotel. I also got you this." Weaver steps out of the room, and after a few moments returns with a box fan sans chord. "I got this for you, just incase. It isn't a normal one either, and the air it blows ice-fucking cold. And you're not gonna melt, even if it is kind of annoying. Velvet, for example, is a darkling, and is quite literally pained by sunlight. Not just bothered or not used to it. Look, Liv, I won't force you to come with me, but I'd really appreciate it if you would."

Olivia waits while he retrieves the fan, sighing a bit as he speaks. "Feels like I'm gonna melt," she mutters quietly, reaching out to take the cordless device. "If not melt, then just burst into flames. And not the fun ones like they used to be." She fidgets a bit uncomfortably, some small flicker of fear remaining, despite the news that her kidnapper is now dead. Olivia considers it, thinking in silence for a few moments before nodding slowly. "Alright..."