Logs:Valhalla Open House 2.0

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Valhalla Open House 2.0
Dramatis Personae

Kyrie, Alireza, Aziza, Amadei, Nemo, Tock, Elmo, Owen, Wish, Lyd, Russ

29 January 2016



Arena - Valhalla – Hedge

This cavern is large, about half the size of a football field. The walls and ceiling are made of a black stone, shot through with silvery veins which glow, providing all the light that's needed. The open cavern is circled by a walkway, where the other caverns exit to. Directly beneath that walkway are stone stands and pavilions where people can watch the action happening further down, where the cavern flattens out and forms an oval-shaped arena.

The arena is a good six feet lower than the lowest of the stands, and there's a wall which separate the two. Hanging on the wall, at eight feet intervals, are wooden shields, each painted or decorated differently. At one end of the oval is a small room which holds regenerating targets that can be used for target practice or combat training. At the other end are racks of weapons and armor that can be used by those who don't have their own. There's a doorway there, too, leading to the armory, which holds a wider range of weapons, along with more armor.

The rooms that circle the arena are widely varied in purpose. There is a clinic with cots and a good deal of equipment, including a fridge for blood. Another room holds a forge for those who want to make their own gear. There are also small bedrooms for those who stay here or those who just need to crash at Valhalla for the night, along with showers for those who have gotten ripe. Nearby is a well-stocked kitchen, complete with fridges which always seem to hold a variety of food and drink. Near the kitchen is a parlor, of sorts, with a dining table, sofas, a bulletin board, and even a living chess set that makes the moves when told to. Another tunnel splits off, one side leading to a brightly lit garden with an assortment of hedge fruit. The other side leads down beneath the arena to a modest underground lake.

Word of mouth and a neat, hand-lettered notice in a couple of places let people know that Valhalla was having an open house for the freehold. The cavern doesn't look all that different from how it normally does. A few practice dummies and targets have been pulled out and spread around the arena floor, and there are tables spaced throughout the stands. Those tables, as well as the parlor, are full of food. Largely of the finger-food variety, easy to grab and munch while talking, but some that require silverware. Appetizers, main courses and desserts are offered, along with drinks of both the alcoholic and non-alcoholic varieties. Hobs mill about, some acting as servers, while a few stand by the entrance to ensure that no true violence occurs.

Kyrie is sitting on the wall separating the stands from the arena floor, wearing the armor that she never seems to take off. Maybe she showers in it. Who knows? She has a beer in her hand and seems to be having some quiet words with a hob as the time for the open house approaches.

Lush cream silk and fine linen adorn the princely figure of Alireza as he walks through the party decor of Valhalla. The robes he wears have been shortened for ease of movement, with intricate gold embroidery bring out a bit of shine to it. A short cape in embroidered antiqued gold matches the flowing sirwal trousers he wears with the ensemble completed by a traditional white linen gutrah held in place with an ornate black agal. His ever present magic carpet floats behind him rolled up and pretending to be hung across his back despite there being no strings to the effect at all. Snagging some small finger foods as he moves past tables, he offers Kyrie a wave at her place upon the wall, but he seems to be allowing other visitors a chance to bask in his presence before making his way out of reach.

Tock is dressed in her typical too-formal, too-vintage style, though longer and more layered (if possible) given the frigid temperatures out of doors. Her early Edwardian walking suit is an appropriately wintry ice blue in its tailed, long-sleeved jacket and full-length high-waisted skirts. The hems and waistline are decorated with white Venetian point lace and a glitter of silver and white glass beads. Beneath is a collared blouse of white silk. Her usual jewellery is present in the form of a silver woven metal bracelet nearly hidden by one sleeve, a silver and sapphire choker length necklace, and locket bearing a stylised alternating current symbol pinned securely to a lapel. Her brimmed hat is in matching ice blue with a white band and feathers in assorted blues and ivories, along with what appears to be some form of jewelled spider with sapphire eyes and fully articulated metal limbs. When she enters the arena, it is from deeper within Valhalla...likely some task that found her in the Clinic, kitchens, or residential area. Said task completed, the clockwork girl claims a glass of cider and stops off to speak to Kyrie. “Is there anything else that needs tending or have the hobs got it all in hand by now?”

Food is nice. Being able to be in two places at once is nicer, though it's not -technically- true. Standing at an oh so imposing four foot eight beside one of the buffets, Nemo shamelessly shares her craft herpes with the world and oh so casually eases her right arm up onto the table's surface. "Hey," she sort of whispers, not really trying THAT hard to be quiet. "Go get one of those fruity things and bring it back." The serpentine armband she wears, not really an armband, lifts its thorny little head to look where she is pointing, then silently slithers off amidst the plates on its commanded errand while its owner searches out a plate. And stares. Alireza and Tock prompt a glance down at her own NOT fancy self, t-shirt and work boots included, a flick of an antenna and a shrug before she calls out, "Hey! Kyrie!" to try and get the armoured woman's attention.

Did the lights just flicker? Did the shadows shift? Did they seem to get deeper for a moment there? Was it your imagination? There, off to one side, where there was no Elmo before, there is now. The elemental dressed as impeccable as ever in monochrome. Black slacks, black boots, a white dress shirt, a black vest and a long black woollen coat. The only thing marring the look is the subtle debris of the forest, a twig stuck here, blades of grass, a few leaves stuck to his clothing. In these winter months the grass of his hair seems to have a faintly yellowish tinge, looking dry and brittle. Autumn hangs on him like a garment, the scents of pumpkin and clove emanate from around him, while dead leaves gather about his ankles, and the odd burning ember floats by and winks out again an instant later. He does not move from his position, having arrived he simply stands, eyes the color of wet tar drifting over the room and those gathered. Soundless he observes, for the moment at least.

Kyrie gives Tock an amused look and says in her English accent, "It's a party, basically. Stop worrying and enjoy yourself, Tock. Add some rum or something to your drink and relax." She waves to Ali then, hearing her voice, glances over to Nemo. "Yes? You need something?" she calls before taking a sip of her beer.

Amadei sails in at a regal pace, a tall, lean slash of a Fairest, monochrome and understated and without even a hint of glitter or gold; his only jewelry gleams on his slim fingers. He's accompanied by a Beast who hasn't been here yet: Aziza, whom he ushers toward Kyrie, whom he greets with a raised hand and a beaming smile. "This way, you might like her," he informs his companion, "Her armor's magnificent."

“You know I have to fuss until I know that things are in order,” Tock replies with a slight twitch at the corners of her lips. “This,” she holds up her glass, “is cider. And it is already alcoholic. I would not wish to overly distress the palate with unnecessary rum.” Ali's arrival earns further lifting of her glass, as if in a toast to him. Others garner smiles and waves of greeting as they filter into the hall.

Flickery lights are a sign of machines needing maintenance! Nemo frowns, looking around for the source until a quiet clicking at her wrist tugs her attention back to the little automaton on the table. A single strawberry is held within its thorn-wood jaws, berry-bright eyes staring blankly up at its creator. "Oh. Thanks, Mr. Sparkles." The serpentine machine click-rattles its trained response and holds still while the tiny sparkbug plucks the strawberry away and raises her voice to ask Kyrie, "Was I supposed to dress fancy for this?" with a jerk of a strawberry-stained thumb toward the prince and Victorian paragon. T-shirt and jeans can't quite compare.

On candystripe legs, the Skitterskulk comes. Aziza is decidedly not 'dressed up' - baggy black shorts and shirt, red-green-yellow stockings, and a black baseball cap turned backwards over silver cornrows make her look like she'd be more at home in the hood than a party of Lost. She trundles along with Amadei, short and dark to his tall and pale, cobwebs falling to the ground in her wake. "Perhaps-perhaps," she allows in a reedy tone.

Ali inclines his head regally to Tock's lifted glass with a smile though his gaze does pass to the other individuals throughout Valhalla as if memorizing and appraising. Acquiring a glass, he does make his way towards his compatriots and raises it in greeting to compensate for the unglassed wave earlier. The stain fingered Nemo gets a smile as she thumbs towards him though. "Worry not, I have seen Valhallan patrons wear attire far worse the wear, though perhaps more from blood and cuts. Differing attire does however draw attention though, does it not?" He glances over towards Kyrie, "For example, the blood does rather draw the gaze there."

Kyrie grins at Tock. "Everything's in order. So no fussing." She shifts that grin in Nemo's direction, looking more amused. "No, you weren't supposed to dress fancy. Not unless you wanted. It's...Valhalla. Dress however you like, so long as all your naughty bits are covered." Yes, she just put the poopoo on casual nudity in Valhalla. "And with a name like Valhalla, /someone/ should be wearing, blood, don't you think, Ali? Whether it's splatters, bleeding out or worn as armor?" she asks, brow arching, lips twitching.

Owen is finishing arranging a table - it has laid out his assault rifle that Kyrie worked on - it fires Briar Wolf claws, you see, full auto and never runs out. A grenade launcher under it, with dummy grenades nearby. The five foot long Barrett M107 that can reach out and touch something with it's huge .50 BMG magazine - even out past fifteen hundred meters or more. And he has a wooden dummy that has on his diver armor - the custom armor that Kyrie made, with it's Valhalla and Summer tagging on it. He's in a tshirt top and jean bottoms and hiking boots. A gun belt on, a heavy 10mm auto on one hip, knife on the other. The shirt is black with a white outline of an assault rifle, reading underneath it 'Pew Professional'. Backwards baseball cap. He's finishing arranging his gear on the table as he talks to an older hob next to him - one that has a bandage around his forearm. "Bro, seriously. I don't care what the elder said. Sugar is not a great thing to fix that. I promise. Promise," he says earnestly. "Kay? Seriously. No sugar water on it. And come see me or Miss Tock on Monday, OK? Seriously. It's ok." The older hob looks dubious but walks away as Owen leans over enough to snag a sixpack of beer and a platter of food, setting it nearby.

Dubious, Nemo bunches glittery brows at Kyrie's answer, then shrugs it off and pops her pilfered treat into her mouth to chew. "Mmph." Swallow. "I dunno," is her thrillingly eloquent response to Alireza's sartorial speculations, doubt still in evidence. Glancing down again, she tells the automaton, "Go grab a cheesy poof, Mr. Sparkles. Actually..." She sets a plate down on the edge of the table, considers the table's contents, then adds, "Take one food thing from every platter on the table and put it on this plate." Thorny 'hide' glittering, the aptly named Mr. Sparkles slithers off in mechanical obedience. The sparkbug herself, spying more unfamiliar faces, looks between Owen, Aziza and Elmo with a thoughtful, crooked moue.

Tock chuckles a vaguely metallic-tinkling sort of laugh at all of the questions about clothing, particularly with the gestures to her own person. “Oh, no, no. I am simply accustomed to a different manner of dress. Everyone is not expected to follow suit. In fact, I typically find myself more on the unexpected end of the spectrum in any given group these days,” she assures with a slight curl of a grin. “My own armour is reinforced with Briarwolf blood, though it has more of the appearance of a dye, I must admit. Such a lovely russet colour it turns after it has oxidized for a time." She winces as she overhears Owen's talk of sugar in wounds.

"Pff, perhaps-perhaps. But I suppose you can't help it." Amadei sounds fond, though, as he definitely heads right for Kyrie. Though, since she's talking to Tock, he waits agreeably until there's a convenient pause.

Kyrie watches Nemo for a moment longer, more amused than anything else. But it doesn't take long to notice the unfamiliar face beside the semi-familiar one. "Welcome to Valhalla," she calls to Aziza and Amadei as they approach, lifting her beer in greeting to the pair of them. Then, "Did you call that Mr. Sparkles?" she asks.

As they approach, Amadei gestures toward Aziza like he's Vanna White and she's the key to a million glamours.

"Your legends not mine. I think I would prefer to keep the blood off of clean linen personally," Ali inclines his head with a grin in response to her arched brow. "I do hope that this evening will not have anyone near death though. Have your gardens been filled enough?" He asks the question without a particular answer in mind at least, but shrugs and his gaze does go to Owen though.

He observes. Elmo that is, hands sunk deep in his coat pockets as those gathering in Valhalla... well.. gather. His expression is neutral, patient, as if he could stand there forever and just watch people move, like a fascinated child and an ant-farm. Faces familiar he seems to only brush over, it is those that he has never seen does his black gaze linger upon. Nemo first, the spark bug's glittery nature catching his eye, so shiny and bright, an opposite. Then to Amadei and his companion. It is upon Aziza that his attention stops, eyes narrowing ever so slightly, and from the stygian depths of his left eye there comes an amber glow and a faint suggestion of curiosity on his features.

Owen begins to work on his chips and dip, meat and cheeses as he downs a beer. He tilts his head, and dips his hand down to the table. A small metallic, clockwork automaton - a spider - climbs up his arm to settle at his shoulder. It peers around, making a whirring like noise, as Owen munches on his food. He waves to Kyrie, Tock, Ali and Vox - all the folks he recognizes, a pleasant enough smile for those that he does not.

"Spookyvision," Aziza says, glancing at Elmo as she passes. Spiderfangs peek out between thick lips quirked in a smirk. Back to Amadei her focus goes, then Kyrie as she gets introduced. "Some are beyond help, maybe yes?" This directed to Amadei. Kyrie gets blink-blinking of solid black eyes for a silent moment, then a bob of her head in greeting.

Hearing her creation's name, Nemo's head turns, short antennae rising as she bunches her brows again and answers Kyrie with a somewhat defensive, "Yeah. He's sparkly, and he's a boy, because I wanted one. That a problem?" Shoulders hunching somewhat, she frowns to herself and grabs the nearest food from the table to stuff in her face. Face thus full, she nods belatedly to Tock and makes a gesture which is probably intended to convey SOMEthing, but mostly looks like she's wiping crumbs on her coat. A faint glimmering of electricity glitters its way along the side of her neck.

“Mine isn't on linen. It is on spider silk,” Tock replies to Ali's observation. “Though I promise there is no blood in yours.” The reassurance is given with an almost-teasing smile, a shine to her crystal-like eyes. Her head tilts a few degrees off-centre at Kyrie's question to Nemo. “Though if the name is 'Mr. Sparkles', one might assume 'him' as opposed to 'that'. Nikola does prefer 'him', at least.” As to whom Nikola might be, the jewelled metal spider on her hat wriggles and peeks over the brim at the sound of his name. Oh, someone mentioned him! Such excitement. Amadei's and Aziza's approach earn a little bow of her head. “Good evening. I do not believe we have met. Please call me Tock. Everyone does these days.” Tap-tap go metal spider legs on the hat brim. Ahem. “Ah. And the little one there is Nikola.”

Kyrie frowns at Alireza. "That was more than half a year ago," she points out before noticing the dark, planty one, surprise showing on her features. But he's occupied and there are people beside her, so she looks back to them. "Hullo. I'm Kyrie. This is Tock," she says, inclining her head toward the woman. Lips twitch and she shakes her head as she looks over to Nemo. "No, not a problem. It just caught me off guard. That's all," she assures the woman. "You're welcome to load up that plate and join us if you want," she offers, and the way she then looks to the others, the invitation is meant for all.

"After Tesla?" beams Amadei to Tock. He nods solemnly to his unhelpable companion, and adds, "I'm Amadei, and this is Aziza. We were born here a long time ago, but we've just come back." Owen gets a similar smile, and a cheerful, "Your gun is huge!" by way of introduction.

"Half a year isn't entirely a life time, even for us." Ali offers a shrug but smiles at Tock's commentary. "And I do appreciate it that there is no blood in it." He glances back and forth between the mechanical pets but seems amused by the presence. "Perhaps I should get myself a companion. It does seem all the rage these days."

"Thanks bro!" calls Owen with a grin. He finishes half his platter and wipes his mouth politely, tilts his head at his shoulder as the creature there makes chittering/gear noises - and he grunts. "Alright, alright alright. Yes, I know it's been a whole day since you've played." he says as he grabs a beer. He heads over to where the group seems to be, offering a cheery, "Owen. Thorpe. Head of medicine here. Hedge Warden guy. One sec," he says as he lifts his hand up to let the spider on his shoulder leap off neatly, and Owen lifts his hand to deposit it on Tock's hat, where the creature begins to whir and spin gears again. "That's Jeeves," says Owen with a grin. "Tesla is his bro. He has lots to talk about. He was watching soccer all night while I was on shift at the hospital. He was trying to educate me why it's awesome."

Tock gives a nod-and-smile back Nemo's direction to acknowledge her greeting. “Yes, in fact,” she answers Amadei regarding the question of names, her free fingertips moving out of habit to brush the alternating current symbol on her locket. “There was another, larger spider who had been saddled with the name of Edison and we agreed to bring balance back to the universe,” she adds almost as an aside, laughter lacing through her words. Then there is another spider on her hat. “Oh, here we go.” The tone is half long-suffering and half amused as the spiders begin doing laps on her hat. “Like tiny, tiny raindrops on a tin roof, these two.” Ali's observation is met with an even broader smile. “If you wish for one that is mechanical, you have but to ask.”

There's that look again. Nemo eyes Kyrie's company with unspoken, but clearly visible doubt -- before flicking Alireza a casual birdie. "Lab equipment, not a pet. He's really good at finding wrenches." Because these are important things. Mr. Sparkles himself has, by this time, amassed a fair number of comestibles on Nemo's plate, and after a glance around, the sparkbug taps a finger twice on the table, waits, and holds her arm still while the automaton spirals up her arm to cling there like some oversized jewellery. That done, she grabs her plate, snags an extra strawberry and marches toward the OTHER person loitering on the peripheries, fruit offered to creepy Elmo. Looking up at him from, oh, the level of his pecs, the tiny woman introduces, "Nemo. You?"

"A pleasure to meet you, Aziza," Kyrie offers to the woman, gaze flicking to the new Summer and watching her and her lab equipment for a moment before she turns her attention back to those around her. She sips at her beer, listening, watching people get acquainted.

Okay, Nikola gets Aziza's attention. She lifts a spindly hand to reach out towards the little creature, smiling gently. "Hello hello," she greets it. "A handsome little thing you are, yes yes. And you have a friend." Oh yeah, she's utterly distracted now. Kyrie's greeting gets a small nod, but yeah. Spiders.

Coming tearing around the corner of the hat is Jeeves, chattering in his language (which seems to be clicks of his limbs and whirring gears) to his brother and others. He peers at Aziza's finger, tapping it with a few of his front legs and dancing a little jig, throwing his limbs up like he's saying 'GOAL!'

"Yes," Owen says, "You can say hi to her, but be nice. And be careful, there's lots of people around. Be safe." says Owen to Jeeves, who whirs/chatters again, almost like you imagine a young child might, petulantly. "So I see lab equipment - scientist?" asks Owen of the person behind the flasks.

Amadei smiles warmly, radiantly up at Owen, like clouds suddenly uncovering the moon. "A pleasure-- my well-being, then, is in your capable hands." And of Nikola's origins, he says to Tock, "I think I envy you the adventure."

“Equipment...that would be more like Verne. Though I would not call him 'equipment' so much as 'assistant' if looking for a title. He is rather handy.” Ha, automaton squid. Handy. Yes. Nikola stops his racing long enough to rear up on his hind legs and wave the front two like excited arms as Aziza gives him attention. He might even linger longer if it weren't for this race with this other spider... “A pleasure Aziza and Amadei,” Tock adds a few beats late. There were mechanical things being discussed, after all.

Elmo continues to track Aziza's movements as she heads to speaks with Kyrie, tilting his head a fraction of an inch to one side. Autumn fixates on Autumn, or some such. And then, from the corner of his eye, that glittering again. Elmo turns his head towards Nemo, tracking the last few feet of her approach until she stops before him. He considers her and her question for a silent moment before he answers "Elmo Abernathy." his voice is deep, hollow with an organic wooden quality to it. After another span of seconds he adds "Hello."

Amadei informs Aziza, "I think he likes you," before drifting out of the way. Drinks, he should find some.

Kyrie watches Amadei drift away, before she glances back to the spider discussion. "If I'd known we were going to have a spider convention, I would've brought my little guy. Though I think he's just hanging out in the forge," she says, her attention pulled for a moment toward the tunnel to said forge.

Aziza scritches Jeeves like one might a cat, clearly taken by the little pseudo-cousin. She glances to Amadei, then Elmo, then back to the spider. "I don't think he's ready for this jelly, no not at all," she muses as Amadei drifts away. Eventually she turns up her palm for Jeeves to step onto if so inclined.

Glancing away from Elmo, Nemo lifts a shoulder in a shrug for Tock, the serpentine automaton's berry eyes blankly staring over at the small crowd. "Uh." The sparkbug frowns to herself, looks down at the strawberry she's still holding out toward the Autumn, looks up at Elmo, looks down at the strawberry... nom. Snooze you lose, it seems. "Mmphle?" With a mouth full of strawberry, she holds up the plate instead, offering to share, and half-turns where she stands. "So... You come here often?" Social ineptitude, meet social ineptitude.

“They are exceedingly friendly,” Tock agrees with Amadei's assessment of the spiders. “And they do like to find warm places to hide, don't they.” For some reason, that comment to Kyrie comes in a rueful tone. Nikola drifts closer to Jeeves and Aziza's hand, observing this interaction curiously. “Jelly?” the clockwork girl asks, looking around with some confusion for, one might assume, a dessert item.

"Thank you, Amadei. I appreciate that. I can't do the magical healing, that's all Tock. But the more mundane care? Trauma related? I can do that. And Tock has become quite the practitioner herself, although she'd never brag on her skills," says Owen with a grin towards Amadei. "Heya Elmo," he says to the other man, and a grin at Aziza as Jeeves carefully leaps onto her hand. "He wants to know if you call it football or soccer," Owen provides by way of translation to Aziza, as Jeeves mimes kicking a ball with two legs, then chatters at Owen, waving hands wildly - like a kid would when an adult shows off those embarrassing pictures. "It's his way of judging you." A grin at Nemo, "I'm here some times. Well, a lot honestly. Nice to meet ya!" A grin at Kyrie. "He likes the forge? Yeah, Jeeves says he's always cold."

Owen adds a second later, "Anyone want to fire the weapons? Plenty of ammo if you want to later on!"

Amadei asks Owen happily, "Can I /really/?" Because if one thinks ammosexual, one totally thinks Amadei.

"No cuddles," Kyrie tells Tock firmly, shaking her head. "he does though, yes," she tells Owen. "He prefers it when I'm in there so he can be hot and play with things. And trust me, Owen is all for letting people shoot guns. And that's why I dragged the targets out," she says, nodding toward the targets down in the arena.

Elmo had either missed the offering of fruit, or perhaps simply ignored it. There is the barest twitch of a smile when Nemo attempts to respond with a full mouth. When he hears his name called by Owen, he looks up for a bare moment, fixing his eyes and nodding before returning his attention tot he diminutive glitterbomb before him. The question posed is considered with due gravity before he answers simply "No."

Aziza considers the question. "Not really a sports person, no no," she answers Jeeves. Or Owen. Or both. She keeps her hand still and scritches the spider more with the other hand. An occasional glance is made over her shoulder at Elmo.

"Fair enough," says Owen companionably to Elmo, and a grin at Amadei, "Alright bro. You shot firearms before? I gotta ask," he says as he puts his beer aside. Jeeves chatters and Owen grins at Aziza, "He says he and Tesla should show you a game." Jeeves? Down with the scritching, he ain't too proud to beg, not at all.

Tock smiles at Owen then sort of waves off the praise with her free hand. “Many of us beings of metal do chill so easily. I found myself a very dear friend, as near to a sister as this world might offer, who is practically a living sauna...and nary a hug to be had.” This tale is told to Ali, though clearly the tease of it is aimed at the Valkyrie. “Jeeves and Nikola have become a rather impressive spider soccer playing pair.” Tap-a-tap go spider legs upon the brim of her hat. “Not while on the hat, as you are well aware,” she reminds the automaton with up-turned eyes.

When it seems the stranger isn't interested in the food on the plate, either, Nemo shrugs, snags a cheese puff and pops it into her mouth, mumbling, "First time for me. New." A keen eye might note the traces of blue glitter now clinging to Elmo's clothing in her vicinity. Craft herpes. It will infect the wooorrlld. "Anybody here I should know?" An antenna twitches. "Being new and stuff. Dunno who important muckymucks are yet." Omnph goes another foody tidbit. Throughout, Mr. Sparkles stares over her shoulder, attention fixed on its creator's surroundings.

Amadei nods to Owen. "Lots," he states helpfully, and very sincerely. He's picked up something bubbly and sparkly, and offers a second glass to Aziza just in case she wants one.

Amadei adds after a moment's contemplation, "But I don't think I've ever gotten my hands on anything that huge before."

"OK," says Owen as he makes his way over to the table. He slings the assault rifle over his chest and digs into a kit bag, coming out with small sets of ear plugs - the kind that let you still hear fairly well, but block out noise - handing them out to those that are going to be firing and putting a pair in himself. He grabs the carrying handle for the Barrett and lifts it with a grunt - it has to weight twenty pounds if it's an ounce. He grabs a magazine and a box of ammunition and begins to head for the range area. He throws down a sniper's mat and arranges the Barrett down, with the magazine and box, and grins at the group. "Alright, come on over. We'll do the carbine first," he taps the assault rifle, with it's collapsible stock, so on. "It has less recoil. Then, graduate to the big boy. Well girl, I call her Bertha."

Kyrie watches Owen and Amadei, shaking her head a little, lips curving a touch. "Sorry, Tock. No cuddling. I don't do cuddles. Besides, it's always warm in here. You don't /need/ cuddles," she points out before getting to her feet and draining the rest of her beer, what little remained. "I'm going to go check on a few things, but relax, enjoy. Wander around and check the place out. Unless it's a room, like a bedroom, claimed by someone, every part of Valhalla is open for use by the freehold."

Once again Nemo's words are considered, lifting his head to look around the room at those gathered, contemplating his answer. Aziza is once more considered, and his answerer delayed as he just... stares at the spider girl for a moment. Then he looks back to Nemo, remembering that she still awaits an answer. "Important is a messy word, too reliant on individual perceptions and values. There are certainly people here that can be used for gain and knowledge, but none that make the real decisions of the freehold. Our Monarchs have been rather silent as of late however. These have the potential to be interesting times." Look, he responded with more than a word at a time! His hollow voice is rich with odd sound and inflection, a rustle of leaves, the creaking of a branch, but human voice and the sounds of a restless forest combined.

To Nemo Owen adds, "Kyrie runs this place. I help her. She's the ranking Summer. The Freehold is pretty easy going - you've met your court folks, if you have them?"

"Another time, perhaps perhaps," Aziza answers. She glances to the offered drink and shakes her head once, gaze returning to Jeeves. One leg lifts, curling back behind her until the heel of her sneaker rests on her shoulder. One legged she stands, like a demented flamingo, still petting the clockwork spider.

Amadei heads over to Owen and his gun. "Hello, Bertha," he says courteously to the gun, as if she might talk back... but given where they are, that's not /that/ outlandish. And, "Right. Carbine."

“What one needs is really a matter of opinion to a certain extent,” Tock retorts with a grin. “The claimed rooms are easy enough to spot. They are all in the residential area, marked with a name or personal symbol of the resident on the white board by the door.” She can pop quite readily back into her hostessing duties as needed, fortunately. Nikola, still observing Jeeves and Aziza, gives in to his mimic nature with an attempt to mirror that flamingo-esque pose. Admittedly, with eight legs...this is both simpler and less impressive. The clockwork girl might shake her head at this if she could see the automaton on her hat. As it is, she simply takes another sip of her cider.

Hey, the more time Elmo spends thinking, the more time Nemo has to munch free snacks. Which she does. Omnomnom. The prospect of cuddles sees the tiny woman freezing momentarily, all motion ceasing, bright blue eyes slloooowly easing over toward the group to assure herself that no one is about to attempt said cuddling in public. Phew. Antennae flatten against short blue-black hair, then spring up in transparent relief when Elmo gives her a distraction from PDAs. "Uhm." What is he talking about? Oh right. "Yeah. Guess so." Again, such elevated discourse. "Ssoooo... what do YOU do around here? Oh. Do you know where I can find a phone book? Yellow pages?" Yes, asking about actual paper objects. Gasp! Looking over toward Owen, the sparkbug mutely points in Kyrie's wake. "She's it, so far."

Nikola, his brother, is imitating, so Jeeves has to try as well. He chitters at his brother, trying to egg him on as well - although he still flips over to offer a belly to scritches. "Right, carbine," says Owen with a grin, "Kyrie spun this for me, out of Hedge materials. It fires briarwolf claws and never runs out of ammunition. I'm going to put the sling over you - put your hand on the pistol grip but keep your finger off the trigger," says Owen as he he unslings the rifle and aims to slide the sling over Amadei's shoulders. "Four rules. Super important. OK? One, you never aim this or any firearm at something you aren't willing to shoot and kill. Two, you only put your finger on the trigger when you are ready to shoot. Three, you know what you're shooting and what's behind it. And four, you always, always treat it as if it's loaded. Even if I tell you it's unloaded, you act as it is. Makes sense, right?" says Owen as he drapes the four point combat sling just so, showing the other man where to place his other hand - under the grenade launcher, with the rifle up tight into his shoulder. Owen leans over, flipping the optics down - they pivot, to show iron sights. "OK, bro. So just breathe, you're all good here. Just think about those rules, and get that rifle super, super tight into your shoulder. Wrap that sling around your other arm. You want that stock right on your shoulder bone. You want it almost tight enough that you're shaking with the effort. You're breathing, in and out, we're all good, just two bros shootin' some lead. Weight on your feet, shoulder length apart, leaning in juuuuuuust a tiny bit." says Owen, with the cadence of someone that has done this once or twice.

Elmo blinks and there is again one of his whisper faint smiles directed to Nemo. "The yellow pages are a largely discontinued thing I believe. In this time they have an amazing phenomena knows as the 'internet'. It is a vast database of knowledge, including phone numbers and addresses of all sorts. It is quite remarkable actually, save for that they, for some peculiar reason, allow just anyone to place things upon it. It is also chock full of naked people." He nods. "If you are unfamiliar I can show you some time." Yes, Elmo's interest is engaged, at least for a moment. Who knew Autumns would like the internet.

Amadei listens intently and puts on earplugs and is beslung by a gun that's about as wide as he is. "Don't aim, finger on the trigger, wait, not on the trigger, shoot the thing in the face. If it has a face. Otherwise, in the ass." But he does as he's told, and the way he handles the gun suggests that he might NOT be a newbie. But look, he's trying to bond. He breathes! "I'm breathing," he adds helpfully.

"It's mostly porn, yes I think," says Aziza of the internet. Still holding that absurd position, she scritches Jeeves' belly when he flips over in her palm. "You make these, wonders I?" This is addressed to Tock.

Woohoo! Got the strange creepy shadow man smiling. Victory for sparkbug! Nemo frowns a little as she listens, sparks soundlessly branching over glittery skin, but her expression clears when Elmo starts to talk about the internet. "Yeah!" Excited now, she enthuses, "The bitch who named me taught me about that. I found a site about Vader!" Important Things. There's a moment of silence, then a quick looksie up and down the Autumn's body. "I think I know what naked people look like, but if you want to show me, have a blast." Hearing Aziza, she glances toward the other stranger, then back to Elmo, expecting verification from the font of wisdom. Isn't that what Autumns are for?

"Rock, you got some skills dude," says Owen as he watches Amadei - not really having to adjust much of anything. "Now it's Hedgespun, so it has a lot less recoil than you anticipate. I'm going to take it off safe, on semi. One press to the rear with the trigger, one around. No finger on the trigger yet - you aim down the barrel. Line up the front sight with the rear, put the top of that sight right under where you want to hit on the target. Lean into it a bit, breathe. Concentrate on your breathing, and the trigger. It's a press - not a squeeze. Finger part of your finger, smoothly back to the rear. The weapon should surprise you a bit, but you got it all locked in. It's going nowhere." He'll check the man, making sure he seems safe before he leans over to flick off the safety and taps the man on the shoulder, "You're cleared hot, bro. Fire off a couple of rounds."

“If anyone has a need for temporary or long-term shelter, please let me know. I tend the residential area here,” Tock continues, though her speaking is interrupted by a tinkling, almost music box-like laugh upon observing Jeeves's antics and what she can imagine Nikola must also be up to. “Actually, no,” she answers Aziza. “I do have a keen appreciation for things mechanical and did craft Verne, my lab assistant. Nikola and his brothers were...born, in a manner of speaking. To the larger spider I had mentioned, Edison. They adopted us, truth to tell.” The clockwork girl perks at the internet talk. “Oh, it is more than simple pornography. Any human endeavour will eventually have a fair amount of things sexual show on them... But the Internet is an amazing resource in its ability to connect and make accessible vast quantities of information.” She pauses for a few beats. “They do make telephone books still. I think people use them more as...inexpensive, heavy objects than things to look up numbers in, however. Search engines are so much more efficient and capable of being updated far more quickly.”

"God bless America, bro," sighs Amadei happily, as he squares himself up and gets his feet right and does all the right fiddlings and is all responsible (it's rough but with guns you gotta) and such. And, as bidden, he fires a couple of rounds! This may or may not be helped by him making pewpew noises.

Owen grins as he watches, "Cease fire, cease fire. Finger off the trigger," he tells Amadei, pausing to let the other man regard the target. "OK. Now. This is full-auto, we're talking full freedom boner, OK dude? It's all about little pulses of your finger. Half second, three quarters of a second, off. You feel like it's getting away from you, just lift your finger off the trigger and keep it aimed down range, yeah?" A grin at the other man. "You ready?" he asks, and he'll lean over, and switch the mode select to the one that has the four individual bullet icons.

Elmo glances to Aziza as she chimes in and nods once "The Arachne is correct, there is much pornography. As well as idiocy and drivel, but a lot to learn still." He almost sounds a little defensive, almost. Then he asks Nemo "What is a Vader? An Invader?" There's a slight clearing of his throat that sounds a but like a tearing branch, and he thus ignores any suggestion of showing Nemo naked bodies. Instead his eyes, one black, the other having gone fully amber now with interest, move to Tock with some interest for the first time. He nods his head to her in simple silent acknowledgement.

Amadei looks down at the gun, and then at his arms, and then at Owen. "I don't know, bro." They're lovely arms, but not exactly the rambo-style er guns that Owen's got. "Are you sure it's safe for me to have that much power in my hands? I mean, I can try--" Hoist!

Aziza at last resumes a normal posture, both feet on the ground, and reaches up to let Jeeves get back up onto Tock's hat. "A pleasure meeting you little cousin, yes indeed." She smirks as she glances sidelong at Amadei. "I think that's more man than even /you/ can handle, yes perhaps."

"I hate to admit it but she's probably right, and trust me, I've handled--" Amadei mutters to Owen.

"You can try it once, if you want," says Owen to Amadei with a grin, "I can brace you. But if you don't wanna,t hat's cool too - nothing wrong with that. When she gets rockin' and rollin', it's something to see for sure. I call it my little freedom fighter in the Hedge. Start hurling a few hundred claws every few seconds out at the bad guys, they tend to duck down and reevaluate the poor life choices they've made. If you want, we can move to Bertha. That's easier - laying down. But I will warn you, it WILL bruise the crap outta your shoulder." Jeeves waves goodbye to Aziza with two limbs, chittering - Tock knows the language, he's saying he hopes to see her on the field! Then he's leaping onto the hat to say hi to his brother. RACE TIME.

Evidently a bit late, the wolfgirl arrives via the Movement - that's the Real Life gym on the other side of the Hedge the Valhalla is bound to - looking all fresh and clean for Festivities. Still wearing cargos, sneakers, but a fresh clean tee shirt (a Green Lantern logo) and a two-thirds buttoned boy's plaid shirt over top. The colour combination is somewhat complimentary, even if the clothing items themselves are not. And lo, she stops to admire the goings on from afar. It looks like quite the socializing is going on, yes! So she shall join in. Or, more likely, interact and observe, not quite entirely part of this social verbal discourse, more present to witness it for posterity.

Tock bows her head slightly to facilitate the spider placement...not that she is tall by any stretch of the imagination, but it seems the thing to do. Nikola waves his front legs again in greeting to the returning Jeeves or Aziza's hand or, perhaps, both. The movement in this process does give her a clear enough view of Elmo to note the subtle nod, which she returns with a smile and slight lift of her nearly empty cider glass. “Yes, there is not a lot of control to what can be posted on the Internet but one simply has to know how to be discerning in information consumption. My University has impressive access to academic journals, for example. Fully searchable, indexed, electronic copies...available in moments.” And there are mechanical spiders doing laps on her hat brim again. Sigh. The clockwork girl waves as Wish wanders into Valhalla.

"Yep yep. Roger that, sir," says Owen to Amadei with a grin. "Alright. Same thing. Lean in, same position, tight grip on the pistol grip, on the forward grip, in super tight to your shoulder. Breathing, concentrating, looking at that front sight," says Owen. He'll move behind the other man - those 260 lbs behind him as he puts hands on his shoulders, bracing him, "These dudes? They prolly eat borscht or something, yeah? So breath ... you control the gun, it doesn't control you. Finger on the trigger, breath in, breath out. Exhale ... and as you feel your body relax, press the trigger. Quick, quick press. Two, three round burst. Try that a few times."

No naked Elmos. So sad. One glittering blue eye slants up toward the Autumn's face, wickedly amused, before Nemo nods over to the others and their additions on the subject of the internet's marvels. Her passion, however, is for something -- one -- else. Enthusiasm returning, antennae high, the little sparkbug effuses, "Uhh. Sort of? It's the name of this character. Darth Vader. Darth's a title, like I'm a Dame, see? He's a Darth. He's from the Star Wars movies, part of the Empire there. Sith Lord, high muckymuck. They use the Force, this thing connecting everybody, kind of like the Wyrd, and they do cool stuff with it." Gee. Guess which side of the Republic/Imperial line SHE stands on..? Cough cough read the t-shirt. Sidelong, she mutters a sotto voce, "Not so great with big crowds," the Autumn's way as another stranger enters Valhalla, her serpentine automaton's berry eyes fixed beadily in the wolf girl's direction.

Aziza dips a surprisingly practiced little curtsey to Tock for letting her play with the spiders, then turns to watch Amadei and Owen. "Kill the commie pinkos!" she calls to her friend. Slowly she ambles over closer to her fellow Autumn, though she's watching the gunplay.

Amadei takes a deep breath, and goes for it, because he's a Spring at heart. Also because Big Damn Hero Owen is right there behind him. Unfortunately, while his skill is good, his strength is just not there and he is just rollin' too hard. His shoulder is not happy. Freedom hurts, man. ...Owen should probably intervene before anyone else does. "In nationalist America, uh--"

Oh, the boys are out there shooting their toys. Yeah, no. Wish isn't interested and will instead make her way over to Tock and her spider. It is more social company. Quieter at least. Meandering through the crowd, cheerful "Excuseme. Excuseme" her wolf's tail of smoke trailing behind her like a persistent illusion. Things pass through it, like a good cloud ought, without ever seeming to lose its defining... tailness. "Hello!" A bright greeting for Tock. It is how she starts things. Anything worth starting is worth starting at the beginning.

Two, three three round bursts, a fourth and Owen calls, "Cease fire, cease fire. Finger off the trigger, weapon aimed down range. Selector down to safe," calls Owen as he grins at the other man. "Good, right? You wanna try Bertha, or skip it for another day? She'll always be here, too. So ain't no shame in saying no. You know, this Thanksgiving? We took down a turkey with her - Turkey the size of a freaking Mack truck. Ask Tock, she was there!" offers Owen. "True story, man."

Elmo blinks slowly down at Nemo as she starts to talk about Star Wars, utterly without comprehension until something click. "Those are the people in bathrobes that wave around their glowing sticks, yes?" See, he knows things, pop culture and what not. "Some children's fantasy television show?" Okay, maybe not. Tock's mention of University Archives does seem to pique his interest again, and for a moment a look of pure raw lust crosses his features. Utterly non-carnal, a desire for knowledge and the power that brings. As Aziza moves closer, he catches it in the peripheral of his vision, turning his head to look at her directly, faintly questioning with silence before he inclines his head, and pulls one hand from his pocket to beckon her closer.

Amadei rubs at his shoulder after he extricates himself from the gun. "I think I'll wait!" But he beams up at Owen anyway.

With the ease of habit, Tock returns the curtsey without even pausing to think on it. The clockwork girl's head turns this way and that, listening to the bits of conversation and just /missing/ huge chunks of it when references come into play. Particularly film references. There is only so much time in the day for modernising oneself after a particularly time-displacing Durance and popular culture got left behind in favour of science and technology and modern medicine. “It was an impressively sized bird. We hosted a Thanksgiving dinner here with several Ogres and there were still leftovers.” As always, Wish's cheerful greetings earn a bright smile in return. “Good evening, Visnja. How are you?”

Owen grins at Amadei, taking the rifle back and slings it over his shoulder, comfortably. He offers the other man a fist bump, solemnly. "Rock on. Trust me, you're embarking on a holy quest, dude. Rocking this? Grenade launcher? Bertha? Then we'll get into HALO jumping, mountain climbing, diving down to two hundred feet - pushing it to the max man! So for that shoulder. Two things. One, get some ice on it, in a bag. Or if you can heal it, you can heal it or Tock can. If you wanna go mundane, just ice - ten minutes on, ten minutes off, and take a coupla Aleve tonight, yeah?" says Owen. There's a call - and Owen begins to head towards the clinic - a patient is awake and annoyed, "I got this T," calls Owen as he heads in that direction, with his rifles.

Aziza trails cobwebs behind her instead of footprints, on her way to Elmo and Nemo. "I must be going, yes perhaps," she tells them as she nears, "but we should speak sometime." The second part is directed to Elmo, not that Nemo is excluded in any way. "Enjoy your bro-bonding Amadei," she calls on her way out.

Amadei just watches Owen go, and then just shakes his head with a sort of amazed wonder. To Aziza, he turns and calls, "Bye!"

"I am fine thankyou," is Wish's practiced reply. It's probably the same answer she usually has, but that's not really the point of the thing. Movie references will also go over her head, though more likely because she doesn't quite follow the words used to produce them. "Is very nice day." Pause, immediate conversation catching up with her. "Was very good turkeys. Also stuffing good. Was all good, also." Yes, it was quite the feast. It took a lot of running to work that off.

Tock chuckles at Wish's usual response. “Yes, it is a very nice day. Cold, but otherwise quite nice.” She finishes off the remainder of her cider. “Call if you need me, please,” the clockwork girl requests of Owen. Though some of the rest of the flow of words emanating from her Motley-mate have her head tilting as she regards Amadei. “Are you in need of medical assistance?”

"BATHro--!?" The sparkbug visibly reins in her temper, eyes crossing as she holds her breath and bobs her head with each number she counts. Whooshing it out at the end, she clears her throat and reaches up to poke Elmo in the chest, whether or not she actually manages to -touch- said chest. "Kids like it, too, but it's murders and domination and light against dark and SO MUCH more than just a 'children's fantasy television show' mister."

Grumpily mumbling to herself, fan boner bruised, the little woman folds her arms, hisses in pain when she pokes her knuckle on one of Mr. Sparkles' thorny segmented joints, then fumbles with the plate she almost drops in the process, losing a cheesy poof to the unkind mercies of the ground. She looks down at it, mournful, antennae flattening against her scalp. Elmo is the only one close enough to see it, and even then, only if he's ogling her arse, but if he happens to be looking that direction he might see it glowing slightly through her jeans, what little isn't still covered by her jacket.

Amadei wanders over toward Tock. "I didn't think bonding would sprain my shoulder," he sadly informs her. "But I think it'll be all right in a few days. My fault for indulging in the silliness."

“Bonding with Owen is an entirely different level of bonding,” Tock informs with a slight twitch of her lips, though her tone is fond. “You are welcome to tough out the pain if you prefer, but I can help rather easily. May I?” she asks, reaching a hand out in Amadei's direction.

Amadei inclines his head as regally as he had not been a few minutes ago, with the same kind of smile: the joke's on him but he's just fine with that. "Thank you very much."

There's an outburst from the gathering, piquing Wish's interest, but she can't really make out what the topic is from here and no one's coming to blows anyway, so it probably isn't that important. Comfortably within the company of Tock, she'll look around a bit, seeing faces she does not think she has seen before. "Nice party," Visnja will remark, in that it seems to have drawn out all sorts of folks not typically seen around here.

Nemo's finger gets an odd look, followed by a longer look at Elmo's chest, brows just beginning to furrow when the Autumn starts talking about grown men and ponies. Stalemate: mutual confusion. Blink. Blinkblink. "Men," she questions, tone flatly bemused. "Ponies? Cartoon ponies? I know what a cartoon is, but... what?" Belatedly recalling that the rest of the world exists, the sparkbug frowns to herself, frowns at said world, then stoops to set her plate of decimated goodies on the ground before rising again to try and poke at Elmo's chest again, in a slightly different spot, body angled in to see if she can spot anything interesting. Science! "What are you made of..?" she mutters, mostly to herself. Mr. Sparkles partially uncoils itself from around her arm, berry eyes turning up to regard the subject of its creator's interest with mechanical intelligence.

The hand rests lightly on Amadei's shoulder, accompanied by a swell in the scent of petrichor and ozone that tends to cling more subtly to Tock's form. A pleasant warmth and a wave of healing energy soothes away any damage and aches. “There we are. That should do the trick,” she proclaims with a smile before drawing her hand back. “Is there anyone you have not yet met here, Visnja? I think I caught all of the names.”

Elmo is off in the edges of things, talking with Nemo who is rather animated, in start contrast to Elmo who is rather still and stoic. At least until Nemo starts to poke again, at which point he removes his hand from his coat and grabs at her poking finger, stilling it. He leans closer, his voice lowering, the Autumn mantle around him agitating as he speaks words for Nemo alone.

"Okay, -look-, we have been THROUGH this." Lyd enters in the midst of a heated conversation with an agitated scorpion on her shoulder. "Sometimes I touch things, and sometimes those things just happen to have tiny, MINISCULE explosions." She stops dead in her tracks, kicking up dirt as she scoops up the beastie in her palm to wag a scolding finger at it. "So, suck it." That settled, she returns it to its rightful home in the holster on her left hip. A shit eating grin is plastered on her face as radioactive eyes scan the party present. A few bells of memory ring in that hackjob haircut skull of hers and she waggles fingers to Tock and Wish. "We shootin' shit yet? "

Amadei em flexes his arm. "Perfect," he proclaims to Tock. "What do I owe you?" And to Wish, he chirps, "Hello again!" And he looks Lyd over, and says sadly to her, "You just missed it. Owen just left."

See, Wish wouldn't be a particularly good healer. She'd be inclined to just let people suffer through their decisions. But that's the Umbral Court for you. For Tock's sake, the wolfgirl will... Oh hey, it's Lyd! Lyd gets a wave, because she's friendly like that. Where were... oh yeah, right. Wish was going to point out who she didn't think she knew. That would be Elmo and Nemo over there. They don't look familiar. Amadei she only just met the other day, so he'll get a friendly grin.

The clockwork girl shakes her head at Amadei. “Nothing, please. Both as a Dame of Ophois and one of Valhalla's healers, it is both my duty and my pleasure to aid my fellow Freeholders.” And non-Freeholders, oftentimes, but that turn of phrase had the right ring to it. “Good evening, Lyd,” Tock greets with a wave. “There was shooting, before. Owen was showing Amadei how to use some of his...artillery.” She follows Wish's gesturing, her own indicating gestures open-palmed as opposed to pointing, which would be rude. “The woman with the automaton is Nemo; I just met her this evening. The Autumn gentleman is Elmo.” Her brows knit slightly at the seeming tension between the two. “Is everything okay there?” she asks in that let's-not-have-trouble tone of an innkeeper minding his bar.

The finger, it is grabbed! Nemo grumpily not-quite-pouts at her curiosity being SO cruelly stifled (who wouldn't want to be poked at by an inquisitive stranger in public?), then leans in to hear what Elmo has to say, short antennae lifting, then lowering unevenly, uncertain. She considers the Autumn's words with all due solemnity, meets his eyes, glances at his chest, then looks over toward the sound of a new voice before leaning in to murmur her own reply. The Summer heat, faint as it is, of her own mantle is quite eclipsed by his agitated display.

Head held high, chin up, Russ enters with a slow and calm stride. Tonight wearing a long coat that mimics that appearance of some great Captain's coat from an era gone by. Extravagant silvery fur rims the collar and down the lapels. Worn over a jet black three piece suit that looks like it was crafted from an oilslick the way it shimmers blues and purple in the light. His hair slicked back, strong features casting a look of stern authority with his black leather gloved hands held behind his back in a pseudo-military rest. Getting his bearings and looking about before venturing any further or greeting anyone.

Amadei obligingly mimes pewpewing, ever helpful.

Lyd crinkles her nose and asks with incredulity, "Like...the fish and the 'tickle me' puppet thing? Not really somethin' that strikes fear in the hearts of ye plebians." The Winter opens her mouth and raises her hands to gesture 'fangs' with her forefingers. "I thought the Ashen were all "I am the night n'shit." The impish smirk playing at the edge of her black lips is hint enough at the snark in her words as she moves along. Clasping her hands behind her back, she skips up to Tock and leans forward to inspect the healing work. "No need to amputate. GOOD! He can continue to use all ten fingers to count." She rocks back and forth in her boots, staring at her toes. "Twenty if he truly needs it. Was the shootin' any good?" she asks openly.

Oh yes, and Russ. Has she met Russ before? Wish doesn't remember. "It was loud," she'll answer for Lyd, since that's sort of how she remembers the shooting. Abrupt and noisy. That's sort of what it's about, right? Putting the fright into people, because there's certainly quieter ways to kill something way over there.

Amadei nods solemnly to Lyd. "All ten!"

Elmo is rather engaged in his 'conversation' with Nemo, and seems to miss many of the new arrivals. The shadows around him seem to gather more thickly, the scents of Autumn spices and November storms permeate the air... and then suddenly any agitation vanishes, and he blinks, looking at Nemo with renewed curiosity. "Show me." forgetting to whisper this time. As Lyd is next to Tock, her words do not immediately register to the Autumn, who does indeed cut a rather imposing figure, despite his name. Not in any brawny physical sense, but he is a little off, just sort of wrong, like a tiger in times square, utterly out of his element, but no less ominous.

Those have to be pop culture references Lyd is making again, right? Tock digs for her own, but they're...not everyone else's references, clearly. “Oh. I would have gone for captain of the Nautilus and...perhaps one of the patron saints of sailors. Or the Engulfment and Cell Motility family of adaptor proteins.” She is slightly distracted by monitoring Elmo and Nemo out of the corner of her eye. Just in case...things /did/ look a little tense over there.

Russ hasn't been seen for some time. 'Busy' is the typical response. Where he went and what he did? Such a mystery. Hint: tinkering. The sound of his heavy soled boots heard as he makes strides to be more social. The fur of his coat collar swaying in the wind like seaweed underwater for it, with how his hair looks wet from being slicked back it makes for a strange duality. "Good evening," he rumbles out in his voice that sounds like he gargled pebbles for breakfast. Eyes roaming every face, no recognition seen on his until he finds Lyd. "Lyd," so dry and dour like he is just oodles excited to be here in the first place. Dark eyes shifting to those that talk about what possible shooting there was going on earlier that he had missed, eyes narrowing a bit for it. Something muttered under his breath in German that sounds faintly like an inward curse at his own shit timing and missing it.

Lyd's lips become obscured in a tiny cloud of smog as she stops speaking, patting down her denim patchwork vest to search for a cigarette and lighter. With the first inhale as the zippo flares, her mouth becomes visible once more. "Now, y'see, the beauty of havin' a name like that." She pretends to adjust a monocle, "Is that it means 'nobody' in a dead language. So, she can choose to be that, or in this case whatever the fuck she wants to be." She exhales and the smell of pollution follows rather than tobacco, waggling her brows and moving her welding goggles comically. "What's up, GermaGrump. You still got an SS stick up yer ass?" she beams up at Russ.

Amadei bows gently to Russ, more an inclination of the head and body than anything else, giving him the respect that he seems to feel he's due.

Nemo, too, has missed Tock's question, caught up in her, ahem, conversation. That is, until Elmo's creepy shadows suddenly vanish, and he asks THAT. If she had ever seen Finding Nemo, alas, her reaction would have been more than ignoring background noise. Poor Lyd. "Fuck no. Not -here-." She looks around the hollow, brows furrowing, then zeroes in on Lyd at the 'dead language' and 'nobody' commentary. "Mnemosyne!" Being contrary just to be contrary, since 2016. Pointedly turning back to Elmo, the tiny sparkbug -- even smaller than Lyd, and that takes some doing -- reaches out to grab one of the Autumn's hands, trying to tug him off toward the nearest door. "Let's go find somewhere dark so I can take my pants off. Get this over with."

Wine has found Wish's hand. Actually she quickly popped over to the place-drinks-are-at, grabbed some and returned, but we like the imagery of festive beverages appearing when required. Glass, sipped, while the slight wolfgirl regards the party goers and goings on. Lyd and Russ are watched a bit, just out of curiosity. They seem to share a frictional social dynamic. That sort of thing can be interesting. From afar. "Is nice party," she'll remark, to Tock... oh wait she already said that. Well, whatever.

Lyd cocks her head to the side and just openly stares at whatever the hell is taking place over in creepy Autumn corner over there. "Well, if you're gonna talk about it loud enough for others to here, clearly an audience is bein' begged for." She fishes out a smartphone from her back pocket and aims it at Nemo. There may be no reception here, but the thing may still hold a chance at recording - or the Wizened is aware of the technical limitations and is just being a smartass if her presence has been enough to give a hint at that thus far. "Go on, we're waitin'!"

A raise of Russ' brow at Lyd, upper lip hiking a little into a faint sneer. "Still mouthy as ever. Glad to see some things never change." he rumbles out, that German accent more apparent now that he has said more than three words. With Amadei bowing gently in his direction, well, Russ just sort of scowls for it. Disapproval? Could seem that way. Maybe he prefers a salute? "It seems I have missed the festivities." he says out of general social requirements that will hopefully not show too much of that SS stick that is lodged in his nethers, per Lyd. Looking to Tock, Wish and right about the time Nemo is attempting to take Elmo's hand and talking about pants removal. See that look on his face? Like someone just stated something absolutely disgusting and he is choking back a bit of bile. "... I hope there is still beer left, ja?" he more or less asks everyone prior to making his way over to the place-drinks-are-at.

“Ah, yes, see there. Nickname,” Tock concludes with a sage nod at Nemo's one-word correction. Her head tilts a little more to the left at that last bit from the sparkly woman. “Well, that was not...where I was imagining that was going.” But at least there isn't a potential fight brewing? Maybe? “Oh, there is beer, assuredly, in variety. Kyrie would have made certain of that.”

Amadei seems unoffended by Russ' dismissal, but neither does he push it. He's not a soldier, and there's only so much scraping he'll deign to do, even if he is easygoing. He reaches for another glass of bubbly, downs it, and drifts off toward the exit.

Elmo's hand is taken, dragged from his pocket and for the most miniscule of moments the Elemental looks confused. "It can be dark anywhere." Elmo states at first, and then looks around, noting new people, and his attention falls upon Russ and then Lyd and then Wish, noting all three for the very first time. "Ahh, I see, you do not wish an audience. I suppose that may be prudent should you wish some privacy about yourself. Very well, lead on." And so, Elmo follows Nemo, where allegedly there will be some depantsification.

The prop of a phone is put back in her rear pocket and Lyd pivots on heel to face Russ and the others. "Yeah, yeah, Kyrie makes the good stuff beer-wise." She shakes a finger at Russ and looks to Amadei. "Manners! Not all of us have had the -glory- and -honor- of German hospitality. "

Amadei just waves airily to Lyd as he steps out.

Tock just shakes her head a little at the departing pair. Huh. There is a twitch of muscle in her jaw, somewhere around the mention of German hospitality, but she skips right past it. “Less that she makes and more that she knows people who make and also keeps good stock. Or so I hear.” What qualifies as good stock in beer? Not her purview. She offers a wave to Amadei as he follows the others out.

Perhaps expecting something from Lyd, Russ grunts as he arrives at the drink station. "I did not expect nor ask nor require to be bowed to as if I am royalty." He starts to sift through the drinks in the ice chest. The cold water slushing about from his ungloved hand before picking something dark. Looking over the label as he turns to start walking back to the others. Catching sight of Amadei leaving, then back to Lyd, "And since when do you honestly care about manners, fraulein? Did you brush up on proper etiquette without me being around to nag you about it?" he raises a brow before pulling out a set of car keys he uses to open the beer. Hiding a dim smile while looking down to open his refreshing brew. Glancing to Tock and Wish as he makes his way back, "I apologize, it has been a while. I am Russ Werner, Artificer of the Summer Court. I have been away for a while dealing with business," he raises his now open beer a bit in a silent salud before taking a sip.

"Yeah...yeah, we're anything but royalty. Imagine you, in a fuckin' tiara." Lyd winks at Tock and Wish in an 'amirite' fashion. "See? It can speak." she assures them.

This is a Party, so Wish won't wait for Tock on this one. More formal events, certainly she'd let others speak up, but we're being all social and stuff. "Hello!" Bright greeting from the slight Hunterheart, smokey wolves' tail flicking absently behind her, "My name is Visnja." She would offer a hand - because that's just one does, right? - but the Russ person seems to have keys and beers in hand and that doesn't leave anything to reach to. What does one do in this situation? Unknown.

Tock bows her head slightly in acknowledgement of the introduction from Russ. “I do believe that we had occasion to meet before, some time ago. Tock.” No second name, like a pop star, apparently. “Dame of Ophois and Sylvan Emissary of the Spring Court.” She does leave Wish to introduce herself, since this part of the conversation seems to be a favourite, or at least well practiced, for the wolf-girl.

"I would be, as they say, a pretty pretty princess." Russ points out Lyd, the self depreciation met with a raise of his chin and a faint grin. "Visnja?" he pronounces it right, "As in Visnja Gora in Slovenia? Weixelburg. I have been there, a long time ago." he murmurs, a sip of his beer. "Tock, yes, I believe we have met. Forgive me if I don't recall but... the memory it sometimes blurs these days." He gives this half smile that barely gets beyond a grin. Like that is all his stern face can perform. "How were the festivities? I assume it was rather tame considering I haven't heard talks of fights and see no signs of blood about..."

As in... what? "No," Wish seems quietly thrilled by this, like the script had come to an unexpected yet entirely probably solvable puzzle. No one has ever compared her with other Visnjas. At least, not over here. "Only Visnja. I am from Croatia." Which is near Slovenia, you know. At least, in the sense that Maine is near neither Croatia or Slovenia.

“It is a common enough affliction for those who have been through what we have,” Tock reassures easily. 'We' meaning Lost. “There was shooting. One injury that I know of. And, apparently, people needing to leave with haste to be quit of their clothing in another's company.” So there's that. The clockwork girl pauses a moment, listening to the sound of some ruckus being kicked up in the direction of the Clinic. Her lips thin and she sighs, “I told Owen to call me if they were making trouble again... Beginning your pardon, but I must tend to this. Please, feel free to stay and enjoy the refreshments as long as you like. The hobs can help find any other things you need, or if not, can be sent my way. Have a good night!”