Log:Utridge Reception

Utridge Reception
Participants Olivia Utridge, Velvet, Bronwyn Gallagher, Widget, Draciana Utridge, Weaver Utridge, Saulot as ST	23 June, 2018 Velvet and Weaver prepare for a wedding reception. It gets canned fora bloodbath. Part of Olivia's Crucible
Location Lakeside Lodge
Things start in the early parts of the evening with both bride nad groom being night owls. The presiding priest isn't really a woman of the cloth, nor does she look like one. She's short enough that even Widget can tower over her by a few inches. She's dressed in a sequinned, many-colored dress with just enough flair to look like she might be trying to show up the bride. The feathered collar doesn't help anything either. She stands with a stamp in one hand and a bottle of wine about the size of her head in the other. Weaver isn't anywhere to be seen at present. "Where the fuck is that piece o' shit?" she squeaks in a thick accent that sounds of something from Eastern Europe. "You know how much work they make it for somebody to be a notary public when they think you're a fucking child? Four fucking days, and three verifications of fucking ID!" Further off in the background workers are already setting up for the reception. Tables set down, chairs laid out one after. The makeshift bar is set up at the end of it all as a normal enough man with a shaved head is still setting a few things up. The dj, because of course Weaver paid for a dj, is already set up, and playing low, melodic music for those here, working, and waiting. While Weaver is nowhere in sight, but Fido is. The overlarge mastiff of a beast is mucking about, blood over its maw. It's currently looking around, but for what is another matter. Sitting at the tables one person did arrive sooner. A giant of a man with sun-kissed skin, and a smile that never, ever seems to fade. At the least, Velvet knew the man as Sergio Netto. Every now and again he checks his watch while waiting, constantly tapping his foot. Olivia was told that she had to wear black, so she's wearing black. But it's tasteful, at least. She cleans up nicely enough. It's a simple black pantsuit with a white blouse beneath, the sleeves of the jacket only about elbow length. Her hair is pulled back and twisted into a clean bun behind her head. Really, it's probably as tidy as she's been in some time. And she's out looking for the caterers. She's been given a task, and Olivia is out taking care of it. While everyone else is working, waiting, and wondering, Olivia quietly scurries off to find the food. Olivia was told that she had to wear black, so she's wearing black. But it's tasteful, at least. She cleans up nicely enough. It's a simple black pantsuit with a white blouse beneath, the sleeves of the jacket only about elbow length. Her hair is pulled back and twisted into a clean bun behind her head. Really, it's probably as tidy as she's been in some time. And she's out looking for the caterers. She's been given a task, and Olivia is out taking care of it. While everyone else is working, waiting, and wondering, Olivia quietly scurries off to find the food. Bronwyn is a bridesmaid for the event and is wearing black silk as requested...though with some designs and a bit of flair that is all down to Velvet (https://tinyurl.com/ycwdksfr). She stands near the grumbling notary, smirking at the language and frustration. "Did you just become a notary for this?" she asks before glancing around at who is present. Not the people who need to be, that is for certain. "So...how about that local sporting team" she jokes. "Sports are for fools," the tiny woman barks out in jest. "But I got my eye on something else I wouldn't mind playing." She waggles her eyebrows up at Bronwyn, then. "If you know what I mean." The blonde is smiling rather stupily then. It might have something to do with the half-empty wine-bottle. The fae-touched around can see her for the goblin she is. Green skin, knife ears, bug eyes, sharp teeth and all. She then offers up the bottle after taking a swig. "Thirsty?" Olivia is met by a squat, bald man eyeing her up with a scowl. "No, honey, no. The food is not ready yet, and you can't have any. The reception isn't for another two hours, and we ARE not ruining my coq au vin just for your greedy little mitts or some- some hungry mutt!" He lifts his hands, shooing Olivia away. "Now go back inside, and make a bologna sandwich or something." Olivia scowls right back at the man, crossing her arms in front of her as he tries to shoo her back inside. "The request didn't come from me. It came from the man who is paying you. Unless you want me to go BACK to the person who is paying you and tell him that you're being uncooperative. I mean, I'd be HAPPY to do that." She lifts one hand, hooking a thumb over her shoulder back towards the building. "I'm sure he won't mind in the slightest. He just sent me out here for fun. And air. Naturally." Things are still in the works, but Velvet can't help but come to check up on things. She spots Sergio first, stopping by to give him a gentle pat on the shoulder and thank him for coming out. The woman is still dressed in her white silk with the long train. She's almost innocent and angelic looking in this moment. Though, anyone that knows her knows that that is far from the truth! She's moving through the few folks that are there, her long white hair down and flowing like a waterfall save for a simple clip along one side, fashioned with onyx. "I heard that Weaver's sister made it for the reception. Has anyone seen her?" "Oh...umm...that's very nice of you to say" Bronwyn replies to the notary, blushing a little and looking around for 'assistance'. It's the drink talking of course. Though why is the notary drinking already. Spotting Olivia she offers the woman a little wave before taking a deep breath. "I think I might" she nods, taking the offered bottle and enjoying a mouthful before handing it back. And then there is the non-blushing bride, Bronwyn smiling at how lovely Velvet looks. "The one that got away" she sighs as an aside to the notary. A pair of flickering eyes peek out from the gap between the tablecloth and the floor, flitting about before blinking out. The gremlin had never worn this type of clothing before, and a very nice workman had pointed out that she'd shown up wearing it backwards. A quick scuttle under a finished table and she was fine, slipping back into the venue (hopefully) in order. Someone had managed to get the gremlin cleaned up and looking presentable, if not as attractive as she could hope to get. Her clothes had actually been picked by herself, which hadn't been easy. Black silk was what she was told to get, she knew very few places that sold black silk, there was a really nice thift shop, and Widget made a pretty good find. It was old but really clean and it actually fit because olden-times people were short and it was almost like it was /for/ people who didn't...have much. So the tiny rusty flapper is milling about, staring at people and trying very hard not to swipe shiny things. The drink offered to Bronwyn tastes a bit off. It had a wine label on the bottle, but tasted a bit more like brandy. It comes with a heady feeling of warmth that'd heat up the coldest night. "It's my special drink," the short woman cheers. "Feels better than that shit a lot of the people around here serve." With that said she gives a pointed look at the bartender, and huffs. The caterer growls, revealing a pair of sharp incisors to the woman. "Well, I don't care what that dra- What that man said! No means no, miss lady. If Utridge wants it, he can come out here and get it himself." He crosses his arms in turn while looking upat her. "Over my dead body." As he gets ready to stand his ground he catches sight of Widget doging through tables. "What on Earth is she doing!?" Still settled in her place out of the way Draciana wriggles her fingers in greeting to Velvet when she hears she is being looked for by her. Though, Draciana doesn't rush to announce herself beyond that. She is drinking, after all. OR sometihng. Olivia steps a bit closer to the caterer, moving so she can look down at him. "This is my cousin's wedding. You are explicitly ignoring a request from him. I really, really don't advise that course of action." She leans in a bit closer, dropping her voice to a lower level as she looks around at the catering situation. "And I happen to know that the dragon prefers his food overcooked, which I will happily arrange for the entirety of the guests if you don't fulfil my very, very simple request." She straightens up then, plastering a too-wide smile on her lips. "Please." A sideways glance is tossed in Widget's direction at the caterer's question and she simply shrugs. "Doing what she does." Bronwyn winces as the effect of that mysterious drink hits her. "That's...quite a special drink" she gasps, "Might want to keep the recipe to yourself." A pause. "I certainly don't want to know what it is." A deep breath to steady herself. "Widget! Come on over here" she smiles, holding open her arms. "Doesn't Velvet look beautiful." A long ear perks, Velvet's attention turning towards Olivia and the caterer. Over his dead body? Her voice lifts softly. "That can be arranged," She coos, with a flex of her Autumn Mantle, a slender brow arching up. Then a wink is turned to Olivia as she makes her way further inside. Widget gets a little squeeze of a shoulder. "Hey you, thanks for coming," she murmurs. "I'm on my way to say hi to Bronwyn, did you wanna come with me?" Spotting Draciana's wave, Velvet lifts a hand, gesturing for her to come over and join her. Bron is calling Widget over, so she's moving along in that direction too. Widget smiles up at Velvet before padding quickly over to Bronwyn, answering her open arms with an excited hug. The gremlin squeezes tightly, channeling her fidgets into a more productive gesture. Eventually she releases the doctor, stepping back to shift foot-to-foot. "Yes! Very! Hi. Hi!" The last one was a bit louder, directed at anyone who cared to acknowledge it. This was exciting! She was so excited! Everything was exciting! An idle shake of her head is given as Draciana holds up her glass to Velvet. For now Draciana is good with staying in her corner. Bronwyn hugs Widget back as tightly as she can. "And look how pretty you are too" she smiles warmly. There is a bit of a kerfuffle with the catering it seems but none of her business so instead she will make sure to greet Velvet with a light hug and a kiss to each cheek before leaning back to take her all in. "You look...incredible. Weaver hit the jackpot" she grins before leaning in to mock whisper. "Not sure he deserves it either. Feeling good?" "Ugh. Fine! FINE!" The caterer moves out of Olivia's way. His attention is locked on Widget now, eyeying her up suspicious. As he turns around the fae-touched around can see a leathery tail following behind him. "Just leave some for the rest of us." The lady takes the bottle from Bronwyn, very happy from teh compliment. Then she looks up and over to Widget as the gremling approaches. Those bug eyes are narrow just a bit, and she offers up the bottle. "Drink?" She leans in, covering one side of her mouth from the others "It's got some fruit in it that'll warm you right up." Then she stands back up straight and shouts, "Because a bunch of us are waiting in the fucking cold!" Weaver is still nowhere to be found, and Fido is still looking around. He eventually finds how he's looking for in Velvet. The others do get the massive hedge beast's attention, and earn a growl for good measure. Despite the red on his mouth his teeth appear perfectly fine. Maybe he got into Velvet's lipstick, but lipstick doesn't drip like that. "I feel wonderful. You should see the wedding gift Weaver got me, it's truly spectacular." Granted, Velvet isn't about to go showing it off, because that would be foolish. "You look lovely yourself," she tells Bronwyn, giving the woman a kiss on the cheek. But her nostrils suddenly flare, head dropping to the Hedgebeast as it approaches. "...Weaver," she murmurs. Then suddenly appears a gun. Where the hell did that come from? where could she have been hiding it? There's knives too, but she's not saying. "Show me," she tells Fido. Olivia's smile changes to something a bit more pleased. "Excellent. Thank you. I appreciate it." She would roll up her sleeves, but they're already at her elbows. Her head tilts slightly, one brow rising curiously at the tail before she just shakes her head and puffs out a small breath. Of COURSE there's another one. Why wouldn't there be? One hand rises to lightly run over her hair before she heads over to the food prep area. She was still given a task, and she intends to complete it. Especially now, after the posturing. But it doesn't require fire, so Weaver won't yell at her for that. Widget beams, giving a small twirl. She was /pretty?/ That was...new! And nice! And now the green short lady was offering...a drink. With fruit! Like...like juice? Oh! That was really rare back home and it wasn't cheap here and she wasn't gonna say no so... So Widget takes some alarmingly large gulps of whatever that stuff is before handing the bottle back with a huff. "Oh. It's nice!" Really nice! And she was warm. This was a good day! The only way it could get better was if she- Velvet has a gun now, okay. Widget could help! Those funny stocking-thingies she put on had this little bit that was like, /purpose-made/ for a tiny gun. At least she didn't have to keep it elsewhere, like she usually did. See? She can help! Now she has a gun! ...Are they doing guns now? Is...is that it? "I look forward to seeing the gift" Bronwyn smiles excitedly before a blushing "Thanks" to the compliment on how she looks. Though all of that is forgotten as a huge dog walks over with...blood!...dripping from its maw. That is not good. "What's happened?" Bronwyn asks before a little squeak at the sudden appearance of a gun. Velvet must be damn flexible to have hidden that somewhere. And now Widget has one? Bronwyn doesn't remember the invitation saying to bring guns...but she will help if she can. The dog looks at the others with an obvious hit of dislike, but eventually does as the woman instructs. The notary shrugs, and moves to sit among the collection of tables. "You fucking people." the sight of guns only draws a drunken shrug. She plops down beside Draciana after pulling a chair up, and without knowing who the woman is starts complaining on and on about Weaver. Fido leads them back to the house. From the porch through the kitchen and into the living room. There Weaver lies, three blossoms of crimson seen across his body. Standing near his body is a boy maybe just past his entry into young adolescence. His hands and clothes are bloodied along with the bloody knife in his hand still dripping blood. Watching the display and off in a corner is a woman that looks to be the nurse that once attended Olivia's time at the hospital. Average height, thin, and a brunette pixie cut. To the Changelings she's more catlike than normal with her whiskers, calico pattern in her hair, and stubby pointed ears. She purrs, welcoming them all with a smile. "So very nice to see you again." Velvet leads the procession after the headbeast, not seeming at all hindered by the dress. She comes to a halt, her arms going out to stop the other women from getting too far in. "Bronwyn, there's a bag in my room with some odd looking fruit. I need to run and get it as fast as you can," she growls under her breath. Her eyes narrow on the boy that was to be her son. This time there's no hint of hesitation, the gun lifts, and fires off a shot. "Widget, shoot her. But try not to kill her, I need answers." Her voice? There's no panic, just calculated and cold. Comepletely empty. It's eerie. Bronwyn lets out a half-gasp, half-scream at the sight of Weaver lying there. And there's a killer child? She is about to rush to the prone body before Velvet is giving orders. "Fruit?" Bronwyn would argue but once there are gunshots she quickly nods to the assassin. "On my way!" And then she is running for Velvet's room to find some...fruit? Velvet's answer gets greeted with silence. Widget just isn't at her side anymore. If fact, she isn't anywhere to be seen. Did she run? Did she wander off in a drunken stupor? Whatever she did, she isn't here anymore. Oh. Scratch that, there's a window into this room, one right above the catlike nurse. One, that when opened very quietly, admits a very upset gremlin. This was supposed to be /fun/. She had special clothes and she got cleaned up and scrubbed raw and it /hurt/ and these shoes /hurt/ and she has hungry and she couldn't touch anything but she was gonna have /fun/. It wa s a special day for special friends and these two people ruined it and hurt Weaver and scared Bronwyn and this was NOT FUN. So Widget was going to /make it fun/. So she drops, gun holsted in exchange for a nice steak-knife that she may or may not have looted from one of the tables. She drops pasts the nuse, seemingly missing. It's a shame, really. Her strike would have done some damage, probably killed her. Except Widget heard that this woman was wanted alive. So when the serrations of the knife saw into the woman's tendons, the cackle she gives out is frankly terrifying. Fair's fair. The boy looked up at the entering party. The blank stare growing into one of joy. He tightens his grip on that knife, staring up them all. Eventually his gaze settles on Velvet. The grin teasing at his lips widens. "Hello, mother dearest." He was getting ready to rush her down, but the gunshot ends him immediately. He falls to his knees, and the knife clatters on the ground. Just as his body hits the ground the boy is no more. His clothes remain, but he doesn't. In his place are bits of straw as a smoky cloud swirls into existence. It didn't even matter to the woman. Vanessa was going to start monologuing like most villains do. It was written all over her face. The haughty smile, the upturned nose, and the slight lift of her eyebrows. At least until she felt a knife dragging down her back. "You see, you idiots thought you could-" Never does get a chance to finish that. "SON OF A FUCKING BITCH WHORE!" she screams as that pretty little dress she was worning is now torn at the back as Vanessa starts looking around. With a snap of her fingers her sword is instantly in her other hand, and she's hissing down at Widget. "She's coming in alive, but you. Gonna gut you like a Christmas turkey." As she gets ready to try to hack into Widget her compatriots are seen in full view. Two big, burly men that look more like they eat people than anything normal. Leather vest, a bandolier of ammo each, and leather pants. Even the tattoos that run down their arms match. The changelings see them as beasts. One a rhino with the massive horn in the middle of his face. The other something porcine with fur tusks jutting out of his mouth. As they both try to fit through teh door they can be seen munching on fruit. "Idiots?" A brow ticks up, and a shot is immediately taken. She doesn't need the answers right now. Right now she needs to kill things. She aims for something non-vital on Vanessa before she turns the gun towards the two lumbering beast-men stepping out of her doorway. "Those aren't yours," she notes in that same emotionless tone, two more quick shots ringing out from that heavy pistol in her hand. Bronwyn was going to run to get fruit...as directed. But then there are swords and gunshots and Widget dropping out of the roof and two huge guys blocking the doorway. She can get past them. Bullets fly over her head which should be the perfect distraction but all of this is getting crazy. This is what happens after years of marriage not on the wedding day. Bronwyn darts forward but zigs when she should have zagged and now one of the giant thugs has grabbed her and is holding her fast...and tight enough to make her yelp in pain. Widget crouches, hissing like a broken steampipe as she scrapes her knife against the ground. She'd been called worse. Threatened with worse. Even if that sword hit her she'd probably been /hurt/ worse. This wasn't scary or pissing her off or anything. This was fun. Now that the bullets were flying and she could smell the burning powder and she swore she could feel the heat of the lead as it flew and her knife was bloody and shiny and- Bronwyn was getting grabbed. No. Nonono. The gremlin went a bit still, licked one of her fangs...and pounced, driving the knife wherever it found flesh, eyes flickering with electric pops as they flew wide open. Stab time! Vanessa goes down like a sack of bricks. She was raising that sword ready to cut up Widget as she said. She never gets the chance to. Whatever was gonna come out of her mouth ends in a gurgle. Something or other about short people or children. It's hard to say. She goes down with a thud, and her sword soon follows. The two learther-clad gentlemen don't look too happy about interlopers. They look even more upset when what may be their boss goes down like a sack of bricks. They grunt and growl, never another word coming from their lips. The one nearest teh Bronwyn, the rhino, takes a swing at her with a fist almost the size of her head. The other doesn't seem as content to simply swing, and takes hold of the woman almost half of his height. Especially after she stabbed his friend. "Get your hands off of her," Velvet growls softly as the Rhino beast grabs a hold of Bronwyn. She pops off three shots, one of them clipping through his cheekbone. Between the three it's enough to pierce his armor and drop him, releasing Bronwyn from his grasp. "Get the fruits, quickly!" she tells the woman as she turns her attention on the other reception crasher. "Your turn." Bronwyn, thankfully, has been covered in blood before - those Masai puberty rites can get quite messy - but never to this extent. And certainly not with bullets flying over head and giants punching her. A punch that hurt and will definitely leave a bruise. With blood obscuring her vision she lets out a yell of anger and determination before slamming into whatever is left standing and over six feet tall. "You ruined my dress!!" Her mind may be having a hard time with all this. Bronwyn's fists hit what she is meant to so that is something to make her feel a bit better. Widget's attack falters when she's roughly grabbed, leaving her kicking and hissing as she's help up by her neck. There's not much she can do, given that she can't breathe and the only thing she can really hear is the blood in her ears and the creaking of her neck bones. She still tries to get the knife it, but she can't get the force to drive the now-weakened implement in anywhere. It just wasn't made for it. Her hiss turns to a rasp to nothing as her air is cut off. It isn't too much effort for the man to get Widget up in his arms. He's almost a meter taller, twice as large around, and has arms big enough to wrap her up three times over. As he yokes her up he dips his heaed down. On a more romantic night it might've been something sweet. Except it's anything but as he digs teeth and tusks into the flesh of her shoulder and likely tears the strap there as he tries to take an even larger bite of the gremlin. Fuck. The other one has Widget. "Hold very still," Velvet warns. Her gun aims upwards, meaning right at the beastman's head. Which, to be fair, is pretty damn close to where Widget is being used as a human shield. You bite her friends, you lose your head. Her aim is flawless, clipping one straight through his eye socket, and the other through the forehead. "Bronwyn. I needs those fruits NOW if you want Weaver to live," she tells the blonde woman, her tone leaving no room for questions. Bronwyn is standing there in a state of semi-shock. Face spattered with brains and blood and Widget, poor little Widget, bloodied and battered...and under a giant. She should look after her. She should check on Weaver. Thankfully, there is Velvet's voice to remind her about what needs doing. "Fruit...yes...fruit." The blood covered blonde, now an involuntary redhead, runs for the room and this supposed miracle fruit. It doesn't take that long to find what Velvet was talking about in the bedroom. The two boorish bullies were already digging into it. A sack filled to the brim with nectarines. However, the small little things aren't orange, but purple in color and with a heady scent almost similar to what Bronwyn drank in the backyard. There's a small surprised sound as Widget gets dropped and then it cuts off when she gets crushed. Then she's just...under him. No gremlin is visible under all the blood and corpseflesh, no sounds to hear, nothing. Well, her dress is ruined. All that nice white silk is now going to be covered in blood and bits of brain and goop.Both guns are tossed to the side for the moment as Velvet rushes to where poor Widget is getting crushed to death under the remains of the man. Wyrd flexes around her, her muscles bulking for a moment as she grips underneath his body, growling as she lifts and shoves, pushing the body off of the woman. At her size? That shouldn't have been possible. Nor should the bulk in her arms that slowly fade back to normal. "Force feed what you can to Widget and give me the rest," she exclaims to Bronwyn, waitng for the bag to be passed over so that she can rush to Weaver. Bronwyn rushes back in with the bag just in time to see Velvet Hulk out. What the heck is going on? She pulls out a couple of the nectarines before handing the bag to the bride. Bronwyn kneels down alongside Widget, doing her best to smile down at the gremlin even as blood and brains continue to drip down from her face. Where is that memory loss when she needs it? "Eat, Widget" she whispers warmly, shoving bits of the fruit into her mouth. Luckily, a gremlin is hungry even when passed out, so Widget manages to eat the fruits and look a bit better. Her dress is ruined, it's fallen down from her chest and covered in gore along with the rest of her, and it still looks like that shoulder would hurts like a devil, but...she's awake. Scared, confused, and nervous, but awake. Widget immediately clings to Bronwyn, shaking from residual adrenaline and overstimulation. "I'm going to explain everything to you when this is over," Velvet tells Bronwyn with a momentarily sympathetic look. "You're doing well," she assures before rushing to Weaver's side. She starts peeling the fruits apart and moving his jaw into chewing motions until she can get him to take a few of the fruits into himself. Enough to hopefully get him concious again. "Come on baby," she whispers as she works frantically. "Fido, go get your new brother. You guys are going to have a feast." Bronwyn hugs the now conscious gremlin close to her, feeling the trembling Widget against her and, understandably, still worried. "It's okay, Widget. I'm here." She stares at Velvet with the bloody bride's words but rather than argue she nods. "Is Weaver okay?" she asks, her voice cracking from the stress before she tries to get some moisture back in her mouth...that isn't blood. Maybe Weaver's family are Mafia? That would make sense. Widget can't hear it, and Weaver doesn't hear a damn thing as he stabilizes. His breathing his slow as flesh knits itself back into place, although it'll be a while before those scales grow back completely. There's the sound of scuttling, shifting, and shuffling coming from the guest bedroom down the hall. From the sound of it the movement is frantic, hurried. Things being moved around hastily. Fido was standing watch over Weaver's body the whole time. Either he wasn't much of a fighter or only did so at Weaver's command because it's clear he wasn't going to jump in unless the dragon was hurt. He does leave as insturcted by Velvet, and eventually returns with the cat in its mouth. The thing hangs by the nape of its neck. "Why, mama? I was only eating some of the food outside." The cute little kitten is talking. Surely poor Bronwyn is sure to have thought she's gone insane at this point. "Look baby, fresh kill," she says as she gestures to the two men. But not that one," Vanessa, "She has to answer for what she's done. Eat. Widget, I need you to keep shoving fruit down Weaver's throat until he wakes up." She's reloading her weapons, checking to make sure they're good, her eyes shifting towards the guest bedroom. "And stay out here, both of you." She glances to Brownwyn and frowns. "Sorry," she murmurs. Then Velvet? She just vanishes from sight. She's moving right for the guest room door and then through it. Without the actualy opening of the door. Just through it. Bronwyn is gently stroking Widget's hair while holding her close when a dog walks in carrying a cat in its mouth. Odd...but also the kind of thing that would get a million hits on Youtube about how cute it is. But then the cat talks. Bronwyn's eyes narrow, not really sure she heard that right. Or maybe the cat mouth moving and the words were not actually associated? At Velvet's apology, Bronwyn can only stare at the bride with some confusion. Her synapses are firing a million a minute and none of it is making sense. If Widget goes to feed Weaver then Bronwyn will sit against the wall and find her happy place before she ends up in her crazy place. Widget does go to feed Weaver, but not before mumbling a bit. "Talking kitty...?" Oh. Ms. Kitty could do that, too. Was she here? No? ...O-okay. ...She wanted Ms. Kitty. But she still staggered over to Weaver to stuff fruit into him, like she was told. Sure, she might have confirmed that there was indeed a talking cat, but she had a job to do. She was helping, right? Weaver eventually comes to, trying to shove away Widget. "Stop. Stop it," he groggily says. "That stuff tastes like shit." He gags, coughting trying to find his own sense of up and down. He reaches for his chest where he stabbed, and even tries digging a finger around in what should be a hole. He just accepts it, lies back, and closes his eyes. When free of the bloody maw of Fido, Mkazandon is more than happy to go after the man with his head blown off. He starts chewing on this chunk and that. He does look over to Bronwyn, spotting the mess on her and asks, "Are you going to eat that?" In the guest bedroom there's no one to be seen. However, there is movement there. Well, there was. It stops when she enters, and the seemingly floating jewerly box was set back down on the dresser. Then faint, slight movements that can be heard going in different directions. Bronwyn stares at the cat that just offered to lick her clean. A scream is building...and building...her breathing rapid as her mind tries to adjust to all this. She decides that closing her eyes is the best thing to do. Closed tight as she mutters to herself, "There's no place like home. There's no place like home." At least the scream...and the mind snap that would have gone with it...is avoided. For now. And with her eyes closed, the talking cat can't see her. That's how it works, right? When Velvet moves through the door, she spots the floating box, hears the shuffling. Looks like she's not the only one that's invisible. Alright well that makes it a little more challenging. They go still, clearly realizing she's in the room. "You weren't invited," she tells the pair, smelling two of them. Then she's moving so she's no longer where her voice just was, taking another couple of shots. One clips hard, hitting it's target squarely. The other is harder to find and even harder to hit, taking two shots, with only one just clipping. Widget gets pushed off, scuttling back over to cling to Bronwyn. That was safer and nicer, yes. And there was a kitty. Which she fed bits of brain matter like a duck at the pond. But not the geese. Never the geese. Until the shooting starts again, when she tries to nab the kitty to hold it close and burrow into Bronwyn, breakdown or no. The first shot takes him down near instantly. The force of it has her going back into the wall. Another changeling, gangly tall, and with bits of electricity flickering all over her body. That brilliant display soon fades as she drifts off the mortal coil. A loid, high-pitched shriek can be heard in response, and with it a sharp rush of wind exits the room before Velvet can breath in after the third set of shots whisper in response. Bronwyn feels better with a Widget in her arms. She even opens her eyes...then closes them again as more gunshots echo through the house. Where are the cops? Haven't some of the other guests called them? And where's Olivia? Is she okay? She hugs the gremlin tight, realising there is some nudity there that also needs to be covered up. "Velvet? Are you okay?" The door bursts open but there's no Velvet coming out of the door. There is a dead body slumped against the wall though. "I'm fine," claims the floating voice as the sound of guns being reloaded can be heard. "I need to get a couple of clips and then track this bitch down. If anyone can stablize the bitch I shot intinially so that she doesn't bleed out, I want answers." Her voice is cold and hard. "My love, will you be okay?" Velvet is moving, looking for where she left her hunting rifle. Widget watches the proceedings, feeling pretty useless. At least Bronwyn was oka- Oh. Nope. She wasn't. Well, she had a job now, at least. Said job was to keep clinging and try and keep Bronwyn's brain from overheating. There was some serious fairy hoodoo going down and she didn't think humans were really supposed to see that stuff. "She's fine. Everything is fine. Yes. Fine." Another bit of cranium for the kitten. Weaver holds up a tired thumbs up, and drops his hand immediately. "I've been better. This goes seventh on times I've almost died. Maybe sixth since it was a kid this time." He tries to laugh, but it's clear that shot to the lungs is painful even if it's heald up. He reaches into his jacket, and pulls out a phone. "Francisco? Yeah. It's me, I don't give a fuck what you think about it, she's fine. Doesn't matter. Shit's canceled. Don't fucking ask me." Bronwyn hears Velvet's voice and opens her eyes to see...nothing. "Stabilize the bitch?" The doctor peers through the open door but sees nothing. Maybe she meant that cackling nurse in the corner? Who had a sword and tried to kill Widget. If nothing else, Bronwyn is now definitely sure that Velvet is a murdering bad ass and that the bride was not joking. A start when she realises the cat is so close and she tries to shoo it away. "C'mon, Widget. Let's see what we can do. " Keep busy...the way to stay sane. "I have to hunt down and kill that last bitch. They were going through our stuff, looking for something," she informs Weaver. "I'm about to put my hand on your shoulder," Velvet tells Bronwyn from close by before doing exactly that. "I'm going to open your eyes now, and you're going to see some shit. You've already seen some of it, and you can't take it back once you've seen the rest. I need you to promise me that what you see will be a secret that you take to the grave with you. And you have to understand that by breaking that promise, you may find that grave earlier than you think. I swear to grant you sight, by my true name, Baby Jane Doe, to give you this sight for a month. I need you say, that you swear, then tell me the name you were given at birth, to keep these secrets and that you understand the risk if you don't." Bronwyn feels a little calmer when Velvet puts her hand on her shoulder...but then she has to go and start talking about...what the hell? And who is Baby Jane Doe? Someone was given that name at birth? But, hey, how can things get any worse? "I, Bronwyn Elise Gallgher, swear that I will keep the secrets you will show me." The veil is taken away and everyone she knows now look a little different...a /lot/ different. Just when the trembling Bronwyn thought she had it under control, now there is this. She screams...finally. This is way worse than that time in Thailand. And Widget...the woman she was hugging close and not just tonight...now looks like something out of a fairy tale. They all do. Another scream to pierce the night as she tries to take it all in. Vanessa won't be getting any attention from Bronwyn right now. "Yes, cancelled. Keep the food and booze here. Yes, you're still getting your check, but I'm gonna need you to make all those calls. Yes. I said yes. Fucking shit, bye." Weaver growls, as best he can in his current state, and chucks the phone away. There isn't much distance or force as it lightly bounces off the wall. Fido was chowing down on of the bodies, but after hearing that the dog looks up. The canine bounds over, grabs the phone, drops the now bloodied thing on Weaver's chest, and licks him in the face. "Don't do that again," he tries to protest, but that ain't gonna stop the hedge beast. It only takes a second. Less than that, really, as Bronwyn's eyes are opened. Weaver's obsessesion with dragons makes a tad more sense now. Every bit of exposed skin that she can see is covered in black scales, and his face casts something of a reptilian bent. With his every breath smoke leaves his nose and mouth, only to dissipate a few seconds after. The dog currently resting on his chest doesn't look too caninish. Fidos' covered head to tail in fur as crimson as the blood on his lips with black strips running along the sides. Down his back twin lines of spike go until reaching his hindquarters. The assailants are equally as weird and Wyrd. The man whose head she and Widget are wearing is covered in thick, tawny fur. His comrade, that the black kitten is now muching on, has bumpy grey skin. Worst and oddest of all is the large horn that juts out of his face. Then there's the woman Bronwyn saved and Velvet said to keep there. Her short hair has coloring more akin to a Calico, a face beset by whiskers, and finger that end in claws. It's probably a saving grace that Velvet is invisible for the moment. Though the scream was to be expected, it does cause Velvet's hand to jerk back and for her to cover her ears with a wince. Heightened senses and screaming aren't a good mix. "I know," she murmurs to Bronwyn. "And I will explain everything later, I promise. For right now, just try to stay sane. Widget, please give a piece of fruit to the cat bitch so that she doesn't die. Tie her up real good, too. I /have/ to go no if I'm going to get a shot at that Levinquick." Assuming she's the same as the one Velvet shot earlier. As fast as she was moving, it's a safe bet. Then velvet is taking off. So much to take in. Way too much. At least Bronwyn isn't screaming anymore. Sitting there, shivering, her knees raised, arms wrapped around them, and tears trickling down her cheeks...but not screaming. She tries to steady her breathing, telling herself she's tougher than this and it will all be fine...eventually. It was that drink from the notary. It was drugged...that's why it tasted funny. Weaver doesn't really look like a Silurian. He can't do. Bronwyn closes her eyes once more an can't wait for Velvet's explanation. Weaver isn't bothered by the screaming. He starts petting Fido, cooing, "Good boy. Thank you." He clearly wants the phone gone, but the massive beast that rests its head on his chest makes that an impossiblity. "Bronwyn. That you? If it is, can you open up that cabinet right to the left of the oven? I got some whiskey in there that I could really, really use right now." With her large gun in tow, Velvet is heading for the outside of the Lodge. She's looping up and onto a window sill before flipping and rolling herself onto the roof. Impressive in her gown, but of course nobody can see it. With the help of parkour, she's easily moving along the uneven surface to set up exactly the right spot. She bends a knee, resting the gun on top of it in order to line up a clean shot. She waits, her breath slow, the rest of her body completely motionless. The wind blows a tassle through her hair as her eyes narrow on the target. Wait for it. Then she takes the shot. Then a breath, and another shot. "Whiskey?" Bronwyn is deviated from her run to madness by a familiar voice and request...though she doesn't know the face at all. She crawls over the blood, brains and innards on the floor to open up the cupboard and retrieve the bottle. She opens it up and downs a couple of mouthfuls before crawling back over to Weaver and offering him the bottle. "You look...different" she manages to get out, doing her best to avert her eyes from the reptilian visage. Do lizards drink alcohol? "I am different," Weaver points out. "I guess that cats outta the bag, but I wasn't expecting it like this. Just remember that if nothing else Velvet considers you a friend. Her best." He stops to take a swig of whiskey, and lets out a sucks in air through clenched teeth after. "Things are gonna get a lot weirder, but trust her. She needs you around as much you need her." With that he tries to sit up, but it takes a bit of effort to push Fido off of him. It takes awhile for Velvet to return to the room where everyone is. When she breaches the door to the house, she makes herself visible again, dragging the shot woman with her. The body is dumped into the room before Velvet steps over her, still dressed in that pretty, silk wedding dress now covered in other people's blood. She is as the storybooks decribe the elves with long, pointed ears, sharp features, pale white skin and even whiter hair that extends down to about her knees. Her eyes are currenly glowing a soft lavender, hands moving up to her hips as she looks over the bodies. "Any idea what the fuck this was about?" she wonders of Weaver before spying towards Bronwyn, making sure she's doing alright. "You okay? Relitively speaking? "Velvet said that? I'm her best friend?" Bronwyn asks Weaver, glancing at him a little bit. No wonder he liked dragons and was convinced they exist. A thought flashes through Bronwyn's mind. Is Weaver a dragon? Nah...he's way too small. But then, probably as a form of self-defence, anthropologist Bronwyn starts thinking about societies of Dragon-Men and how they might exist. Lost in thought is how Velvet finds her. "Hmmm? Yeah...relatively." She looks up at Velvet and sees an...elf? Which makes her even prettier than normal in a strange way. "Your dress is ruined" she points out...keep to the details and she'll get through this. "How will you pass that on to your daughter? Or son if he wants to dress that way." A deep breath. "I'd like to know what the fuck this is all about too. And I mean...everything." "Fuck if I know," Weaver responds. Now sitting up, Fido moves around to sit the upper half of his massive frame on Weaver. This at least gives him a chance to get rid of that jacket, and then his dress shirt. With just the tank top underneath he finally has the room to move. His wings stretch wide, and he keeps them there for a moment. "I know Nessa, but I didn't see her," he says with a pointed look at the cat lady. "Last thing I saw was, um. Fuck. I saw Jeff, asked him how he got his hands on one of your knives, and next thing I know I'm on the ground with this big bastard nudging me to move." Then he turns to Bronwyn, another whiskey. "It's kinda hard to explain, but we can't have kids. Not the normal way anyway." Then his gaze falls to remnants of Jeffrey and the empty clothing there. He looks away, now downing the bottle in full without a thought to stop. "To be fair, the child Weaver and I were going to try to adopt just tried to kill him. So I'm not sure kids are going to be a part of our future. Next time, I'm just killed whatever Fetches I come across," Velvet tells Weaver with a growl. She should have gone with her instincts. "And yeah, with what happens to our bodies when we're made into what you see... it sterilizes us, basically." Velvet is moving to check all the pockets and bags of the murdered group, looking for something that might indicate what they were looking for, and what happened. "You're going to have a lot of questions. I'm willing to answer all of them," she assures Bronwyn as she looks up at the woman. "Firstly though, I'm sorry it had to happen this way. I wanted to give you a choice in whether or not you had to see this world for what it truly was. But this sort of forced my hand." She pauses. "We're called Changelings. We were born like you, human, to a human family. At some point in our lives we are kidnapped by people like these guys." She points to the bodies that her kitten is still munching on. "They take us into a, well, I guss you could call it a separate dimension than this one. We're twisted and tortured, and changed into what you see, by creatures called The Gentry. They do it for fun and entertainment." "Is everyone like this?" Bronwyn asks as she realises that three people she knew turned out to be...Changelings...that was the word Velvet used. And a word any good Anthropologist knows well. "It's all true?" She rubs at her forehead as she sits there. "Is this what Eden was going to show me?" Yet another person she knew who was involved. Has the whole town suffered like this? No wonder the folk tales never change. These people are living them. And now Weaver is sprouting wings. That's enough for Bronwyn and she staggers to her feet. "I'm sorry, I need to go home and think about this. Velvet...come and see me later. I mean...once you finish your honeymoon and..." She looks around at the carnage. "Cleaned this up." Bronwyn looks down at her own blood stained clothes and is thankful she will be driving home in her own car. "Is this what happened to Jack and I?" She quickly shakes her head. "Don't answer. I don't think I can take much more right now." She turns to leave before stopping at the door and looking back. "Congratulations on your marriage. Sorry it went a bit...whatever." "Is what all true," Weaver asks after finishing off the bottle of whiskey. A loud burp coems out before he can continue on, and he wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand. "And I still don't know what the fuck that was all about. He was always weird, but Jeffrey never looked like that before." He tries to mimic the look of the child, but nothing comes. He shrugs, moves Fido off of him, marches to the kitchen without too much care for the gore around him and in his house. "From what Velvet told me, no. Not the fucking same." Never ask a moon courtier to keep with boundaries. "We don't get our brains wiped or some shit like that. I could do with some of that, though, because I sure was getting used to the thought about being a daddy for real." "No, what happened to you wasn't this. But we'll talk about that, and this, soon. Borrow some of my clothes to change into for the trip home," she tells her. "So you don't get in trouble if you get pulled over and are covered in blood and brain matter." Velvet's head bobs, eyes studying Bron's face. "I'll come see you soon," is promised before her head tilts to the clothes of the little boy, brows knitting before she glances towards Weaver. "I think your cat-friend over there might have had something to do with it. There's always Pedical Velvet... and adoption?" she murmurs. "Changlings" Bronwyn explains to Weaver. "Most cultures have the idea though it is usually only babies that are stolen." Wasn't there a child in the room at one time? So much has happened in the last ten minutes. At least when she is talking about work there is some calmness restored. A nod to Velvet about the clothes. "Thanks." There will be at least a face wash somewhere in there too. Then she is gone. Velvet and Weaver look like they can handle the bloodbath...which is a little worrying in itself...but Bronwyn also looks forward to that talk.