The day was long, although not as warm as most may have wanted. Things cool down much more into the night, and are damned near freezing in the hedge. On the hedge-side of rainbowside many of the hobs and changelings a wrapped in several layers or two save those of a colder bent. This late at night the stalls aren't as active, and the crowds only an occasional straggler seen meandering about every so often. The one purveyor of contracts to be found is an older member of the Lost, his age even seen in his emerald exterior as he shoos away a bird hoping to nestle in his hair.
Velvet will takes the darkness with a little bit of cold, over warmthness with a lot of light any day. But then, what else is to be expected of a Darkling? Drifting through the stalls, the short elven-looking woman looks comfortable enough for the moment. She's dressed in a pair of slacks, tall heels, and a long pea-coat hiding whatever else may rest underneath. Her eyes focus on signs, figuring out who may have what she's looking for. Contracts. Feet halt as her head swivels in the emerald man's direction, chin tilting respectfully. "Good evening."
"Nothing good about it!" he shouts with a hearty chuckle. "But seriously it needs to warm up soon as it can. I'm starting to miss those early evening some times." He lets out another chuckle, and rubs his gloved hands together. "Is there anything I can do for you, or something you can do for me?" Despite the cold his mantle still proves to prout flowers around and near him. "Are you the one with my letter, hmm?"
"Oh, I don't know. Most of the riff raff tends to stay inside when it's a little cold out. Which is great for me. Probably not so much for you and the rest of the shop owners though. Less people to randomly spy something neat and shiny." Velvet seems warm enough, bundled up under her coat, though her very pale nose and the tips of her long ears are capped with a hint of red. "Well, I'm hoping there's something I can do for you so that you can do for me," she chuckles. "I'm looking for a specific contract. It lets you mask your mantle with visions of other mantles instead. Sadly, I am not the one with your letter. But I can find the one with your letter and make sure it is delivered?"
He rubs his hands together again, and shouts, "Excellent!" He then goes below the stall, and dips down to grab something. The sound of popping echoes around him until he straightens back up, and then rubs his back with his free hand. "These old bones aren't what they used to be so I very much appreciate it. The letter isn't as important to me as is making sure it gets to where it needs to go. He was following the trods to go north of here, and deliver it to Stonheart, Ms... What's your name anyway?" He extends a bark covered hand, "Ryan!"
A brow twitches up as she hears the popping, Velvet staying still for the moment unless it looks like he needs help. He doesn't seem to, so she stays put. "North along the trod. Can you describe to me what the guy who was delivering it looks like? So I know what to look out for?" Dead body wise. But that part isn't shared out loud. Though it may be obvious in her expression. A hand lifts to take his with a quick squeeze. "Hello Ryan. I'm Velvet. Anyone in Stoneheart specifically that it needs to get to?"
"It's a message for the Captain of the Harvestmen," the Darkling answers with several fervent nods. "It was something I'd picked up from the hobs, and involved important enough information that I had to trade an arm and a leg for it." He still appears to have both of his so there's no telling how literal he may be. "If you can deliver this message, at least to Stoneheart I can help you with what you need for the contract. The man was about as tall as you. Long, floppy ears; and these jacked up, tiny antlers he had ribbons hanging from."
"Well, depending on whose arm and leg it was, it certainly seems to be a big deal." Was that a joke? It's hard to tell because Velvet's expression doesn't falter at all as the words are delivered. "I have the captain of the Harvestmen's phone number, so at the very least I can contact her when I'm on the way. But I will make sure that the letter gets there." Her eyes narrow at the description of the man, head bobbing. "Like a jackelope?" she wonders. "Ribbons. That's an interesting fashion choice. Well, I'm going to run in that direction and see if I can catch up with him, then. I'll be seeing you soon, Ryan," she promises.
Ryan laughs at her initial response, although it peters out into nervousness when she isn't laughing along with him. "Well, alrighty then." He rubs at the back of his neck, and then shrugs. "Not sure on that jacke-thingy, but that's what Thompson looked like. If you see him tell him to hurry his lazy ass up, and deliver this asap. For what it cost me I'd like for it not to go to waste."
His nervousness and the rubbing at the back of his neck finally makes Velvet crack a smile. What do you want from an Autumn, after all? "Alright. Hopefully he's alive enough that I can give him that message. If not, I'll make sure the letter still gets where it's supposed to go." She tightens her jacket around her and glances towards the way out. "Stay warm," she calls out as she starts to bee-line for the exit leading to the northern trod.
The trods lead from rainbowside to the alley she passed through once before. After almost a kilometer of walking she's back to the row houses. Things become even more winding and confusing as time shortly passes. The houeses bleed into the suburban sprawl. It's there that she can pick up the faint scent of old parchment, and odor similar to the one found near Ryan's stall - gravedirt and fresh roses. The smell intermingles with various other stenches to be found from the most pleasant and sweetest to rotten eggs cooking on the sidewalk on a hot summer day.
The further she gets away from the crowd, the more Velvet begins to vanish and blend in with her environment, until there is no trace of Velvet to be seen. Her hands move under her coat to take out a pair of pistols, keeping them steady in her hand as she books it along down the road. The fact that it's taken the original deliverer so much time has her mildly concerned for the man's safety. She keeps that scent in her nose, eyes sharp as she races.
After a few more minutes of sniffing around Thompson's scent is able to be found. Ash, an odd brand of nicotine, and oranges. It wafted in from one of the houses further ahead, but as she walks forward she can pick up the same scent. After a few more paces the smell seems to come from three houses on the left and two more on the right.
Velvet follows her nose, trailing the scent to the initially house. Her nose gives a little twitch, eyes shifting towards the other houses as she realizes that it's coming from all of them. "Please don't be in pieces," she mutters to herself as she starts to approach one of the houses, moving towards one of the windows so that she can look inside.
Looking inside reveals her worst fears to be true. Inside is a single, vaguely humanoid foot topped off with grey fur. There's no blood pooling up below it, and no sign of a trail leading anywhere from inside the house. It sits on a plate as a rather tall, blue fellow gnaws on it like a dog and its last bone.
With a little flex of the Wyrd, Velvet pushes her way right through the door to the hob's house. Still silent and invisible, Velvet moves along behind the blue creature, a quiet rage burning behind her eyes. She lines herself up behind him, her breath slow and careful as an arm lifts. The pistol, silencer attached, is lined up a couple of inches from the back of his skull. The darkling takes her time with the shot, eyes narrowing, concentration focused. Almost a minute passes before her chin lifts, finger squeezing the trigger to pop a bullet right into the back of the hob's head. Her other hand lifts, gun pointed outward in case anyone else pops out in the meantime.
The hob was going to keep chomping on Thompson's foot until the bullet flies free. The hob turns just narrowly as if disturbed by a gust wind. Whatever it was doesn't matter as metal pierces the back of his head, and upon exited blows meat and bone onto the plate and the table. The hob slumps forward, slowly leaving the mortal coil.
There isn't much that belonged to the supposed Beast aside from his foot. His blood. And near the plate there lies a silver toe ring. The ring itself carries an inscription that appears to be something from a romance language. Between each word a cross is carved in.
Blood and body. That isn't helpful. It means that more hob are going to die tonight. Luckily she's so far from the Market now that she'll manage to go beyond suspicion for a little while. But if she keeps murdering large chunks of hobs, the boogeyman rumors are going to start up. Not that she minds terribly. One of the guns is tucked back away as she reaches for the toe ring. She studies it, figuring it'll work well enough for identification purposes. She puts it into a pouch and moves for the door. Open and shut this time, not wasting the glamour to ghost through. She'll save that for the next house with the scent. She glances into the window of this one, careful and alert.
With something more solid to work with Thompson's scent is more easy to follow. The man's scent leads her further down despite the faint hints of him in the passing houses. It isn't until she gets to one with a beaten down house that looks like a million birds shit on it before anybody moved in. The lights are still on, and his stink is far too hard to miss now.
Down the road she goes, quiet and careful as she tracks the scent to the house covered in bird sit. Her nose wrinkles a little at the sight, and the smell of it. She starts to move towards the house, shifting around to a window so that she can peek inside and see what she is up against.
Inside the window she can see a man fitting Ryan's description of Thompson. He's a bit chubby and older, although not as long in the tooth as Ryan. However, he's currently missing all of his left leg, his right leg up to the knee, and his left arm. He's breathing, barely, and without any sign of being awake. Two woman stand over him. Tall with long, gangly limbs and equally long fingers. These dark-haired ladies watch him, both smiling wide and wickedly. One holds a needle and a long spool of thread. The other holds a hot poker and a cleaver in the other hand.
Still alive. Well, that's actually pretty surprising. And maybe if she can get to him fast enough, he'll stay that way. Velvet can see the poker and the looks on the women's face. She remembers that look from her own torturers. For a moment, her whole body goes cold. Murderous auto-pilot. She shivers with the Wyrd and steps right through the door. Her gun raises again, pointing towards the woman with the torture devise. Slow, deep breaths taken as she lines up her shot.
The twin monsters are unaware, and the nearer she comes the more obvious it is. The ones feeding the hobs aren't other hobs. The two woman are Changelings - fairly high wyrd and their courts uncertain. Their mantle comes with the bristling of a breeze that circles them in dust every few seconds. "We get the next," one says. "Then they next to the nest!" the other finishes as they smile at each other lovingly.
Lost. High Wyrd lost. Even worse than Hobs attacking a Lost is others of their own kind doing it. She's said it before, and she meant it, Loyalists and Privateers are a blight that must be destroyed. She starts to move, pressing her back against the wall as her body contorts and twists, angling up as she sticks. Her feet remain so terribly quiet as she moves up and diagonally from the two women. Upside down, dangling from the ceiling, she trains her weapons on the one holding the poker again, focusing.
The one with the poker walks back over to Thompson, and pokes him in the stomach with the poker. The smell of cooked flesh and burnt air impregnates the air as the Beast screams out in pain. "Tut tut, dear boy. You'll help fatten up our family! So it's great!" The other nides, and raises the needle high. "And more will come until they fill their plate. But you oh you, can't escape your fate."
The scream causes Velvet's blood to boil in her veins, her determination more raw than before. The shot is aimed with great care, the trigger pulled. There's not even a second for the first of the Lost girls to realize what happened, the bullet tearing through her chest, exploding through her heart and back out through her front in a wicked splatter of blood. "We do not bring harm to other Lost," she growls as she skitters across the ceiling, lining up her next shot towards the still breathing of the pair. "Those that do, die." Her finger tugs at the trigger again before the first woman even has a chance to tumble to the ground.
With one after the other the twin darklings fall with hard thuds, and enough blood to clean up much of the floor. Their mantles now stifled by death its easier to see the room. A makeshift butchery for the twins as they cut up Thompson over the last few days. There's blood all over his face, and one of his antlers is shorn clean off. "Please don't eat me!" he shouts out to whatever may be there. "Please!"
A slow walk down off the ceiling and Velvet is moving towards the twins. The guns are put away and a knife taken out instead. The twin that's still bleeding out has her throat slit to help speed up the process. "Scum," she growls at the woman before walking over towards Thompson and slowly allowing herself to become visible. "I'm not here to hurt or to eat you. Your friend Ryan was worried when you didn't deliver that message he gave you, so I came to make sure it got delivered. Then I saw what happened to you, and I sure as fuck wasn't going to let that continue." She stalks towards him, putting the blade away. She reaches out to touch his face, swiping some of the blood away. "I'm going to free you and let you get your bearings, okay? Then we're going to have to try to hobble our way back to the market to get you help. I'm no healer."
He grows quiet as she approaches, still ever frightful by the presence of another. He recoils back when touched, but he can't move that much more before he has to deal with the blood being whiped away. He squints up at her, still suspicious of her presence. "I don't have a fucking /leg!/ They! Cut! It ! Off!" He tries to move his left arm to signal this, and it appears that he's unaware of his right arm missing as the bony nub moves about.
Pulling her hand away from him when he flinches, Velvet starts to move around to cut him free of the bindings. She tells him what she's doing with every movement so nothing is a surprise for him. "I know they did. I already took care of one of the monster that was eat a part of it." She moves to squat in front of him, pulling the toe ring from her pouch and putting it into the palm of the hand that's still there. "This looked important." She pats his hand and stands again. "I will help you hobble back to safety, then I will deliver the message." Dark eyes turn down towards the twins, narrowing. "An arm and a leg." That's how Ryan had put it. He had to pay an arm and a leg. She looks back towards Thompson with a little grit of teeth. For his sake, he better not have known what was going to happen here. She grabs one of the woman by the hair, dragging her over towards the wall. Dipping a finger into the blood she begins to write.
Lost who hunt and harm their own will be found. Will be judged. Will be put down.
Thompson shrieks in horror when he does see his arm, and only calms down again as he sees what Velvet's scrawling on the wall. His breathing is ragged and he's beyond tired at this point. "Where the fuck is safe, and-" He stops, rolling over to his side to reach into his bloodied pockets. "Captain Henner needs this asap, and fuck!"
"I was going to bring you back to the Market, but someone said something there that makes me think they might have known what was going to happen. I'm not going to leave you there on the chance that someone might finish the job." Velvet finishes her writing and starts to look around for the weapons used to hack off Thompson's body parts. Her expression is bland, her movement calous and uncaring as she grabs one of the women and lifts them up, plunging the weapon into their throat to pin them to the wall. Then again with the sister. It's taking her time, of course, even more as she starts removing one arm and one leg from each of them. When she's done, she turns, looking towards the letter. "We'll hobble to the Freehold, then, instead. We'll get them the letter, and perhaps the ....Greenies, I think they are called, will be able to help you." She moves towards the window to peek out, making sure the coast is clear for them to start moving.
From gate to gate, and then to Stoneheart. It's a journey with Thompson that takes the remainder of the night as slowed down as they are by the hobbled Beast. By the time she gets back to the rainbowside markets morning has came, and the sun shines high above. Ryan Dunnage can still be found behind his stall, attention paid to a shorter woman with hair full of kelp. He's holding up a large vase that emits varying shades of light as he turns it.
A rigid mask has settled across Velvet's features, leaving her face expressionless and impossible to read. Thompson's foot was retrieved, but it's out of sight at the moment. She approaches the stall, holding up a piece of paper with a seal. "Proof that your message was delivered," she offers, dropping it on the table. "The contract?" Deal first, then hell to pay.
Ryan's still with the other woman, but quickly shoos her away when Velvet returns. "Thank the maker!" he exclaims. "When you didn't return sooner I was afraid that you didn't make it or something worse had happened." A sigh of relief comes as he wipes at his brow with the back of his hand. He then reaches below his stall, and comes up with a small, spherical bauble. He shows it off for just a moment, and then holds it out for Velvet to grab.
"I ran into a little hob situation, but it was taken care of," Velvet offers. Her eyes linger on the bauble for a moment, watching as he shows it off. "I'm of a hardy sort," she assures before reaching carefully for the thing. Her shoulders are tight, body ready for the fact that it might be a trap of some sort. All of her trust for this man is gone.
"You'll have to crush that, but it will impart the knowledge as needed, Miss Velvet." He nods fervantly to that before sitting down on his stool, rubbing at his knees for the time being. "How did things go? Was Thompson alright? I know he can get greedy with fruit out there, but he's a good fellow." His mind's currently on Thompson, worry wrenching him still as the jackalope man sits in darkness covering much of his form.
As their fingers brush, Velvet's Grey side kicks in, her mind filtering through his thoughts. Her eyes narrow a hint as she notes the worry. "Remember that statement you made about it costing an arm and a leg?" The bauble is crushed so that she can get her side of the deal, the other hand reaching behind her to grab Thompson's foot. She slams it on the table, expression still unchanging and cold. "I'm going to need you to convince me that you didn't mean that literally. Because that's exactly what the dear Mr. Thompson was missing when I found him." She doesn't say he was alive. Not yet.
There's not a hint of disgust on Ryan's face as he stares at the foot as he stares at it. That shrouded image of Thompson in his mind finally sees light as the man's right arm and right leg both fade into the aether. "It's a figure of speech, Miss Velvet, and I don't respect you enough to tolerate the accusation. If you want to know what I traded for this expressly I can show you the receipts for such as i keep a log of all my transactions for memory's sake. Thompson was a dear friend." He then stands back up, fingers tracing above the foot for a few moments before he looks back to her without a hint of emotion to show. The soft light of his thoughts shifts heavily between red and blue constantly without staying in one solid color for more than a millisecond. "If you've the rest of his body I /am/ willing to pay you to retrieve it for a proper burial way from the much of this place and in a human graveyard as he'd have preferred."
It's all she needed to be sure, but Velvet's face still doesn't alter in expression. "I don't really care what you tolerate. Anyone who may have been in league with other Lost to serve up one of us as a meal plan to the Hobs should be sniffed out and made an example of. But I see your statement was not one made in guilt, but that it was just bad timing." Her eyes don't soften, but there's a mire gentle tone in her voice a moment later. "He's alive. When I found him then had taken one arm and leg and sheered off his antlers. Torturing him slowly, but keeping him alive. It was a pair of twin Lost. They are both dead, along with the hob I found about to eat his foot." She gestures down to it. "I took him with me when I delivered the letter so that the Freehold might be able to assist in his healing." She offers a slip of paper in his direction. "This is directions to the house where I left the women's bodies. I left a nice little message for anyone who was thinking of taking up their mantle." She sneers with a hint of disgust. "If you hear of anyone doing this sort of thing to one of us again, my contact information is on the back."
He's not able to hide his anger for long, but he remains silent while the other Darkling speaks. He takes the offered paper, examining it carefully for a time. His gaze slips back to Velvet, anger still evident as he stares her down. "Grenda and Maribella. Taller than me, skinny, and pieces of-" He shakes his head, and moves to sit back down on his stool. He sets the paper given to him by Velvet under the vase he was once trying to sell before speaking again. "If you please, I'm about to shut down for the day and go to find Thompson. So I'm done with business for the day."
Velvet nods at the descriptions. "Both dead now. But their bodies are hanging up in that house if you wanna take some anger out on them." Her neck rolls with a little crack. "Of course," she offers when he said he's going to close up. "He's been having a rough time of it, so he might not be the same man you remember. Try to keep that in mind when you see him." The voice of experience. "Let me know if you end up needing my services again, I'm sure we can do business in the future." With a nod, Velvet turns and pulls up the hood of her coat as she moves to start blending in with the morning crowd. Stupid sunlight.
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