12461/15 Fears: Pest Control

15 Fears: Pest Control
Date of Scene:	16 August 2022
Location:	The Velvet Room - Sitting Room
Synopsis:	The JLD are in the Velvet Room when one of the attendants brings them a bug she found in the lower levels of the castle. An evil bug. It's a bad time.
Cast of Characters:	Jonathan Sims, Gabby Kinney, Cael Becker, Rien D'Arqueness, Mercy Thompson

---

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    It's a quiet evening in the Velvet Room, at least for the moment. Jonathan Sims spent the day out in the garden, prepping the new greenhouse (yes there's a greenhouse now) with planters and an irrigation system for tobacco cultivation. So he's still in a t-shirt and shorts, rainbow-hued hair pulled back into a ponytail to keep it out of his face.

    Now he's sitting at the bar, going through a stack of papers while he ignores a glass of scotch sitting next to him. Whatever's in the papers has him alternately frowning and sighing, making notes here and there and then setting each aside. Nameless is playing something mid-tempo and poppy, not too complicated, meant to go under conversation or studying.

    Oh, and he's finally (finally) managed to get rid of the right arm that's been plaguing him. In its place is a glowing emerald construct, clearly magical. A kind of vague tension is gone from his shoulders, so that's good. Otherwise? Things at the JLD's base seem... pretty normal. At least for the moment.

Gabby Kinney has posed:
With quiet steps Laura strides in--Wait no that's not Laura. It's Gabby. Somehow the way she carries herself at the moment while moving was more akin to the constant tension that was seen in her clone sister. Her hair is swept up in a ponytail, not her usual hair do at all, and she's wearing pleather pants, boots, and a comfortable slightly oversized hoodie to ward against the oncoming Fall chill. If not for the light blue hoodie she might look like some punk hanging out on a street corner looking for trouble.

Pausing at the sound of the piano going she pauses to regard it a moment only to nod in apparent acceptance of the tune being played. Her attention shifts away then to the pair at the bar greeting with, "Hey guys," as she moves over to walk behind the bar itself. Her goal was simple: Find a particular bottle. It wasn't one of the card named ones though. No, she's going for a brown bottle of rootbeer. It was simple, sweet, nice bite to it. Even her heightened senses could still appreciate the flavor of that. It was comforting.

"Everyone doing okay?"

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael is currently relaxing on a stool beside Jon. While he was working in the garden? She was, quite naturally, working out in the training room. She was still trying to understand the new forms she's capable of, and what she can achieve while in those shapes. So far she's learned she's strong. Much stronger than she thought. Much, much stronger. She should be //exhausted// right now - but she's not. That's something else she's getting used to. After finishing her glass of rye whiskey, she reaches over to sip Jon's scotch - with an impish expression on her features.
    "Oh, we're doing alright," Cael agrees readily, draping her arm around Jon so it rests on their right shoulder. She's practically been avoiding Jon's right arm and shoulder - knowing how much the //wrong//ness of it had bothered them - she didn't want to draw attention to it. Now, she's simply glad Jon seems more relaxed. "How're you?"

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
Rien steps out of the library with an open book in one hand, and two more under the other arm. She moves up the hallway and into the sitting room, glancing up at the sound of voices. She offers a quick smile and nod towards everyone on her way towards the couches. The books are set down next to her as she settles in, "Glad to see you with your real arm again, Jon. Cael. Gabby. Hope you're both doing well." She glances to each of them with that quick smile called up once more.

Reaching out her hand, she conjures up a glass and pulls the bottle of Justice over telekinetically. Magic does make some things easier, the drink pouring itself as she reads. "Everyone still doing.. well. Well enough?"

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon barely seems to notice Cael stealing his scotch, so focused is he on whatever papers he's going through. "Hey, Gabby. Hey Rien," he says absently. "I'm alright. Trying to see if Gran gathered any statements relating to the stuff we're dealing with. There's /something/ that keeps nagging in the back of my head, but I can't put my finger on it." He frowns, and shakes his head.

    After a moment he looks up and blinks. "My real arm? Oh. Oh, well, I've been spending a lot of time in the sun. It seems to be helping. Gabby, did you do something different with your hair...?"

    Sensitive noses might notice an odd smell coming from the door up on the balcony. A faint trace of something musty and papery and wrong.

Gabby Kinney has posed:
Gabby Kinney pauses a moment as she does catch a hint of that smell. That wrongness. Uncertain she hops onto her toes to lean forward aross the bar to sniff several times at Jon, and Cael. Just to be certain. Once she realizes it's not THEM though her head tips upward scanning around. "... Hmm? Oh I put it up. I was thinking of getting a hair cut but the one I keep thinking of is similar to the dream. I don't know if I want to go that route." Even if it WAS one she had considered in the past, too. That was perhaps what made it all the more awkward to consider now after the dream.

"You smelling that, Cael, Rien?" She asks simply before popping the top off her rootbeer to take a gulp.

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael takes another sip of Jon's scotch, before setting it back down in front of him with amusement, and pouring herself another glass. "You're move comfortable in your own skin with it gone, love," Cael remarks casually - which has the knock-on affect of Cael being more comfortable and relaxed, as well. Seeing Jon so anxious and uneasy is a source of constant, low-level pain for her.
    "I'm doing alright, Rien. Life's been a bit... busy," no shit, that's what happens when you suddenly find yourself responsible for more than forty people, "but it' going well."
    At Gabby's question, Cael sniffs the air, then shrugs, giving Gabby a puzzled look. "Nothing too unusual..."

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
Rien glances up from her book, drawing in the air as a frown sketches onto her features, "Yes. It's... old. Papery, but like.. musty. Like books that were improperly stored and have sustained water damage or have become infested with termites..." Her frown deepens, "And something under it that reminds me of the other Old One agents we've run across. A wrongness." She glances up towards the balcony, "I wonder if we haven't waited too long to start exploring into the castle..."

She sets her book aside and starts towards the staircase, "Something up here..."

Mercy Thompson has posed:
    The door into the sitting room starts to flicker and flash some before it opens up and a tired looking Mercy steps through she has a towel around her neck, is in sweats and a tank top. She is carrying a big bottle of water that she's chugging from as the key clipped to a carabiner. Seeing several people here she waves. "Oh. Hi everyone." Taking a moment to take in the view from the upper level. Then the smell is caught and she frowns to turn around and says, "What's with the 'off book' smell from up here? It isn't from the bug guts I brought here is it?" Rubbing at her nose as if it itches some.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Moments after Mercy comes through the door on the balcony, that same door opens. It doesn't flash the way it usually does--it merely opens, revealing a hallway beyond. A woman steps through, platinum blonde hair pulled back with a blue headband, golden eyes irritated. She wears a blue peacoat with large buttons rimmed in gold, black hose, blue heels. Clearly one of the Velvet Room attendants, but she looks older than any of the others that the JLD has seen, except Igor. Maybe late 20s or early 30s, though it's doubtful she ages anything like a normal human.

    She's carrying a sealed glass jar, in which can be seen the source of the smell--a silvery worm, much like the ones Mercy encountered before. This one's intact, squirming on the bottom of the jar like it's writhing in irritation.

    "I found this /thing/ wriggling around the lower levels," she says in a tone that indicates she's very much annoyed at the matter. Her voice is deeper than Lavenza's or Elizabeth's, rich and vibrant. "Which of you is responsible for bringing it here?"

    Jon blinks from his spot at the bar, looking a little bemused. "That's... four now I think?" he murmurs.

Gabby Kinney has posed:
Gabby Kinney starts around the bar when Rien moves up to the top. Though hearing Mercy's voice up there causes her to pause as she works her way around so she, too, can look up properly. Another few sniffs to the air is given as she watches Elizabeth pop out after Mercy.

"Oooh. Isn't that one of those bugs from...?" She glances at Mercy apologetically, not outright saying it, but it did seem to make sense in some regards. "So they're getting in here now too? Fuck." The bottle of rootbeer held in hand is tipped back for a large gulp as if she were chugging beer and not a perfectly suitable soda for someone of her age. Let her play pretend with it darnit. "Maybe we should go hunting around in case there's more."

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael turns in her seat to nod at Mercy - and study the unfamiliar woman in blue, and the bug-in-a-jar. "Is that- one of the things that we were sweeping up at the shop?" she offers uncertainly, as she watches the little squirming thing. "...what happens if the Old Ones get a foothold here?" There's genuine concern in her voice as she looks first to Jon, and then to Rien for some sort of answer.
    "I mean... if some of them were left alive while we were cleaning, it could have hitched a ride with almost anyone, unbeknownst to us. How do we stop them from getting through?" It's such a small thing, after all. It could easily hide on //anyone.//

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
Rien pauses when the woman appears holding the jar with the worm in it. She rubs at the tip of her nose as if it itches, then shakes her head. "Another one. So what's your name then?" She doesn't appear to be in a question-answering mood, instead responding to the question with one of her own. With the source of the smell verified, she heads back to her spot on the couch and reclaims her glass and her book.

Glancing towards Gabby first, then Cael, she lands on Mercy and shakes her head, "Not your fault, Mercy. Perhaps if certain denizens were more forthcoming with information, we would be better prepared for how to deal with different aspects." Her eyes cut across to the platinum blonde with the jar before turning back to her book.

Mercy Thompson has posed:
    Mercy blinks as someone comes behind her and the woman comes out. Then her eyes drop to the jar and just crumples. Only to learn she can shrink even more. A hand covers her face and she doesn't muffle the whine that comes from her throat. They found FOUR! She swallows that down and says, taking a bit to square her shoulders and face the woman. "I am. I was sure I didn't have anything alive on me when I fled here. Just some guts from parts of Crawling Rot. So all the blame is on me." She KNEW she shouldn't have gone to the VR. "I'll hunt for more. I'm small and know their scent better then anyone." She is never bringing trouble here again. Least she is going to try harder after this situation.
    Mercy looks down to Gabby and Cael, "Yeah that's what squirmed out of the woman skin suit that came to my shop. I thought I just had a squished bits on me when I ran into her that night. I'm sure it took just that one that was on me to leave a 'trail' for others to get here or there were eggs on me" Mercy visibly shudders. She's taking so many more showers tonight.
    Mercy drinks her water and says, "Beg to differ Rien. This didn't happen until Narly Avon called to me and I ran right here. I should have known better." She taps the jar in question. "Those things were everywhere. I touched their 'host' by smashing through it to get out of the window. I should have jumped into a bleach bath before I did anything or went anywhere." But she was scared. She won't admit it, and she's really good at hiding fear. But she was rattled by the so called attack.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "My name is Margaret," the woman says. "My sisters have given you the information they are allowed to give. That is not my role. However, I will warn you--there was another servant of these things poking around the lower levels the other day. You need to deal with your flesh problem." Then those golden eyes turn to regard Mercy. "At least you know your mistake. Try not to repeat it."

    She holds out the jar. "I don't have the means to destroy this. And I suspect there will be others. It--sings." She frowns. "Calling to its kind. Showing them the way."

    Jon is distracted, sifting through the piles of paper, muttering to himself. "I know it's... somewhere... Rien, can you destroy the thing or should I?"

Gabby Kinney has posed:
Gabby Kinney crinkles her nose a bit only to shake her head. "That's nothing to be guilty about. This thing is gonna try to follow us no matter what," she points out. A deep breath is drawn causing her nose to crinkle again. Turning away she strides for the hallway. "Sorry, I... I've been a bit overwhelmed with smells lately. I'm gonna put some distance and clear my head."

Cael Becker has posed:
    "I can help you look if you need," Cael answers Mercy - her tone if anything sympathetic. It was a mistake any of them could have made. "And... Again, we can't say we //know// that's how it got in. It could have been on me, or Jon, or Gabby from the clean up. So." She looks between the various gathered individuals. "Is there a way to set up a deconamination procedure that can help prevent this from happening again? Sone sort of... permanent sunlight bath when we arrive?"
    The talk of 'flesh,' though, has her looking towards Jon's right arm, and then back to Margaret. "...was Lydia here? Can you... give us any insight into the nature of the influence it has over her? Is there anything of Lydia left?" Or do they have to eliminate her? She nods only vaguely to Gabby - clearly having other things on her mind.

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
Rien lets out a sigh, rubbing her face, "Of course... those contracts again. Is there any way we can re-negotiate them as the new proprietors of the castle? Not that the help given hasn't been welcome, but it's /extremely/ frustrating to constantly feel like there's more that /could/ be said but isn't." She sets her book aside once more and glances over to Jon, "I can handle it."

Looking back to the jar, she holds out a hand, turning it at the wrist in a small flourish. A tiny sun, no bigger than a grape, appears within the jar, burning the worm away to nothing. Frowning, she murmurs, "I wonder if there's some way to ward against them entering... it would also make a good means of keeping out anyone that gets... turned." Once the worm is gone and the jar cleansed, she snuffs out the miniature sun and looks to Margaret, "Thank you for catching it."

Mercy Thompson has posed:
    Mercy will try to take the jar from Margaret, "Sorry about this." She will hold the glass up near her head to try and listen to it. "That's what CeeArr said that night. Talking about a song and sharing it with all of us. I assumed it meant to just eat me. But maybe there's more to that." She looks around and spies Gabby getting ready to leave, "try some Jasmine if you can get it. Helps sometimes."
    Mercy shakes her head. "No way anything alive in my shop a day and a half later stuck to you two after cleaning to get here. My guess is that one that I brought here sang to the others and it was all it needed. Like a radar ping or something."
    Mercy backs off when Rien's getting ready to do her thing. Mercy not wanting to mess something else up. "Honestly. If they are working off a song. I'm wondering if we can be a bratty teen and turn on a loud stereo to drown it out so more can't show up. Or even better. Use said song to lure them into traps. Narly roach motel style." Mercy returns her attention to Margaret, "Can you show me these lower levels and how to get too and from them. I can try to hunt for more of them if they're here."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Margret hands over the jar to Rien and watches her get rid of the thing, curiously. "Our master believes it's best for you to learn things yourselves. He feels that you will be more... invested that way. Whether or not I agree is quite beside the point."

    "That's how he works," Jon notes. "We had a long talk or two while I was in Hell--at least I /think/ that's what I was talking to. He's big on self-discovery, whoever he is. And he has a point, to some degree. Still maddening. But Rien's right--can we re-negotiate the contracts, now that he's gone?"

    Margaret blinks at Jon. "Who said our master is gone?" A pause. "Thank you, Queen of Nothing." She looks to Mercy. "If I show you the lower levels without the traps being properly cleared out you will be likely to lose your life. I will put up a ward around the most sensitive areas. Which I must be getting back to." She turns to go.

Cael Becker has posed:
    "Bloody fucking traps," Cael mutters under her breath. "So no helpful insight into Lydia, then?" she calls after Margret - before adding in a mutter, "figures." No. They're //never// helpful - not when they need them to be. Cael frowns at her whiskey, then takes a deep drink from the glass, before setting it down on the counter in front of her. "And I'd been having a perfectly nice day, before all this."

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
Nodding to Margaret, Rien sets the now empty jar onto the table and looks to Margarete, "Before you go. If I'm not mistaken.. we're working off a form of faerie 'law' here. And just because your master isn't /gone/ doesn't mean he's /here/. We are. Are the contracts to the specific person, or to whomever happens to be in charge /here/?" She lifts a shrug, "I want to know how far our proprietorship over this castle extends. I don't like that idea of making a headquarters out of a place that isn't ours."

She looks across to Jon and nods to them, "And I don't think I'm alone in that hesitation. We like to know where we stand, given how much of this is being left up to 'self discovery'."

Mercy Thompson has posed:
    Mercy is not happy by Margaret's answer. BUT she notices it was 'likely' about loss of life. And that she was not forbidden from going there. Also just she couldn't be shown the way. But she knows there is a lower levels now. So the coyote may be exploring anyway. She can try to sniff these things out at least. She's at least got some experience in dealing with fae stuff. It was how she learned to fix cars after a fashion. Mercy looks at the others. "Did anyone ever try to invoke the laws of hospitality to the um.... Margaret and others?"

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Margaret turns back to Rien, lifting a brow. "You think a place is yours because you happen to walk in? No. You were brought in for a purpose, and as of yet you have not been asked to fulfill that purpose. Why would you be given information when you haven't paid the price for it? You will discover that purpose soon enough, and then you will be given the information you need to carry out that purpose, should you accept the burden thereof. The only one bound to do so is Francis Chandler."

    A pause. "You do not know what you think you know, and I am under no obligation to explain the intimate details of my life to you. There is no contract to be re-negotiated. If you wish the castle to be yours, do not sit in the bar and drink the wine. Explore, and work, and change the place. Make it yours. If you wish us to treat you as friends, make an effort to get to know us. Nothing comes without price or effort."

    And with that, she turns and walks back into the hallway, slamming the door behind her, and leaving only the clack-clack-clack of her heels retreating back down the hallway.

    "And /that/ is why I insisted on building the greenhouse myself," Jon mutters, reaching up to rub at his face. "Mercy, I expect the laws of hospitality are why we're allowed in here to drink the liquor and use the library. Lavenza gave me some pretty strong hints that if we want more use out of the castle, we have /work/ we have to do--and that the attendants are doing a lot of that work right now."

Cael Becker has posed:
    Reach behind the bar - and it shall provide. So Cael reaches behind the bar, and comes out with... an orange. What does Cael want an orange for?
    That becomes apparent when she hurls it in Margaret's direction, only for it to splatter against the door when Margaret slams it. "I don't think I like her," she remarks simply.
    "Okay. So. Old Ones are invading the castle - with or without a holocaust cloak - and presumeably we don't want that to continue. ...so what rules or procedures do we put in place to try to prevent it?" she asks simply.
    "I'd prefer a strip search weren't necessary."
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Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
Rien sneers into the air, "THEN MAYBE STICK AROUND LONG ENOUGH TO GET TO KNOW, YOU BITCH." Pushing up to her feet, she looks at Jon, "I for one don't appreciate being teased with all this bullshit about what we might maybe have to do but we haven't earned the right to find out about what the FUCK it is they want us to do. If they want something from us then they can fucking well tell us what they want instead of acting like some benevolent fucking wunderkind that are deigning to let us use the place while holding their fucking noses when they have to be around us."

Lifting the jar, she throws it it up at the balcony to let it shatter, "Start cleaning up your own fucking messes!" Rien looks back to Cael and Jon, "I'm done with the cryptic snootiness from /Their Highnesses/ in there. For all I care this place and those /things/ can get sucked into the crack between worlds and face whatever demons or Old Gods they've riled up themselves. Call me when there's something NOT related to this place and those fucks that needs to be done." Whirling, she waves open a portal and stomps for it, muttering under her breath.

Mercy Thompson has posed:
    Mercy points out, "I don't think I've used any of those things. Though I did sleep here and shower one night." Then again her home was attacked because of this place so she doesn't see anything in debt owed or favor given. She listened rather intently to Margaret's little tiff. Then gives a nod as if something was confirmed. "Thing about fae, what is said is often far less important then what was left unsaid."
    Mercy starts to look around and her eyes settle on the piano for a longer then usual moment. She takes a slow drink of the water she brought. She bends down and picks up the orange. "Cael. I wouldn't attack our 'hosts' because it is possible that may make things worse." The mechanic lobs the orange back at Cael and uses her towel to clean up the splatter some.
    She shakes her head at the others some as Rien yells. "We're not in kindergarten. Why should we expect a clear and forthright answer? I suspect a place likes this wants people who can figure stuff out. Pass the entrance exam." Someone threw something once, so she was ready for the Jar this time as Mercy quickly moves to catch it. This time there's a clear growl from the woman. "What the hell! We know this kept a worm safe and contained. Don't smash it! They gave us a tool!" She holds up the jar. "For all we know there's a rune on the lid, or something about the glass that was all but gifted to us to use." Mercy is now a bit angry herself. "Jon," begins Mercy. "You did this like 'look at this and know' a thing before. Was that something you could do before this mess started? Sort of see and understand a thing on a deeper level or something? What doors have you found and where have they gone?"

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "If you ask for them, they tend to show up," Jon says quite calmly, mostly ignoring both Cael and Rien's outbursts. "Chas tells me that they're around much of the time trying to be helpful. If it weren't for Lavenza and this 'master' of theirs, I'd still be in Hell. Hadn't met Margaret yet." He shrugs, and finally picks up his scotch to take a drink. "But, yes, I get the feeling whoever made this place wants to be certain we're ready to deal with whatever it is that's down in the lower levels."

    He looks to Cael. "I think we do what Margaret was suggesting in that... roundabout manner. We go explore the lower levels and find out why the Old Ones are even trying to get in, so we know what we need to defend against." He frowns thoughtfully. "But if Lydia was potentially down there... then we should probably take care of that first. So. We deal with Lydia, and then we explore whatever's down there."

    He looks over at Mercy and peers at the jar. "Well... sort of? The Archivist /is/ meant to... /see/ after all. The doors thus far... the library, the training room, the garden. The doors in the hall that led to different Tarot-themed rooms. Chas has a room somewhere." He gestures toward the door to the balcony. "But whatever else is here, is back behind that door. Why do you ask?"

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael shakes her head, and gestures after Rien as she remarks, "I'm with her. I think it's a bunch of fucking bullshit. I like things in plain, blunt speech. Better for everyone that way. She doesn't bother to catch the orange, instead ducking her head to let it splatter against the bar.
    "If I meant her actual harm I wouldn't have used an //orange,//" she points out dryly.
    Then looking to Jon she asks with quiet concern, "Are you ready to face Lydia? No one will blame you if you're not." She slips her hand into Jon's left hand to give it a squeeze as she studies their features.

Mercy Thompson has posed:
    Mercy does her best to commit what Jon said to memory. "So what is the update on Lydia. Do we need to go on some vampire version of a vision quest to get her mind free? How do you hurt jerks like this Narly? Do we have any real progress on that front?" Seeing Cael duck the orange and make more of a mess makes Mercy sigh. She vaults off the upper floor to go and clean that up too.
    "My experience with the fae. It doesn't matter. You could throw the softest pillow. If you do it in anger. Anger was aimed at them and they are likely to return it in kind. And they /won't/ use an orange." She this time discards the orange into the trash. "Don't know about you all. But I owe Narl an invasion of their home and a black eye of sorts for what they did. I mean to get them back if I can. Or maybe kill the bug that is their memory so they forget all about me. That works too."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "Typically speaking, shouting and yelling doesn't get much of anywhere in convincing people of something. I find it quite possible that whatever information it is we could be getting, we're not getting because we're not being /trusted/ with that information yet." Jon looks to Cael. "Think of it like security clearances. Have we yet proven we can be trusted with whatever it is they're not telling us? Frankly, given that at least one member of the Justice League Dark has given over to the Old Ones--I'd say the caution is warranted."

    He shakes his head. "And they /could/ just /say that/--but if they're faeries, then I'm not certain they /can/. But yelling at a faerie for following their rules is like yelling at a dog for wagging their tail. It's just part of what they are. Bloody annoying, though, I'll admit."

    Then they sigh. "I don't know what to do about Lydia. Narly... I'm still gathering information, personally. I want to know what he's after, in the castle. But Lydia..."

    He frowns. "I'm not certain it matters whether or not I'm ready to face her. We need to deal with it."

Cael Becker has posed:
    "And one of the leaders struck a deal with one?" Cael remarks dryly. "If I were them - I'd honestly find //that// more worrying than the fact that one in our numbers fell victim to the influence of an ancient //God.// I mean, we're only... human? Mortal? ...whatever word you want to use. Even good people have a breaking point. In any group of people... it's possible for one of them to fall. I mean, even amongst... the Avengers, or- whoever else."
    Cael's voice softens as she adds, "Jon, just because //we// need to deal with it doesn't mean that //you// have to. You can leave this one to the others if you need to. It's alright. Trust your team, they've got your back." She leans in closer against Jon, so she can wrap one arm around them supportively, turning her gaze back towards Mercy. "I'm not going to walk on pins and needles around these people. If I'm unhappy, they'll know about it."

Mercy Thompson has posed:
    Mercy wipes her hands on the towel, not even using the water of the sink but she thinks of something. Looking around she announces loudly. "Could Margaret or someone what manages this place please inform me where I may find a wrench that I may use? Plumbing wrench if possible. It be appreciated." She then looks to Jon and holds out her hand, "may I have the jar?"
     If she gets the jar she'll open the lid and get ready to set it on the bar that she circles behind and gets to the sink. "Cael nobody is saying to kiss their ass and be nice. I'm just advising two things. Letting them see how easy it is to push your buttons gives them information and means. Second that you don't show that anger physically aimed at them. Punch a board. Snarl away. You use guns, you don't wave one around with the safety off right? Keep the safety on, or make sure you aim at the target you want." Mercy will disappear behind the bar as she looks to see if the plumbing under the sink is the typical one sees.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "That could well be part of it," Jon agrees with Cael. "Although I listened to Lavenza's advice on dealing with the problem. I expect that they're waiting to see how we deal with all of this, to be certain they can trust us. There's evidently a deeper purpose to the Velvet Room, and to our using it as a base." He frowns, glancing to where Rien's portal was. "I hope she'll come 'round," he murmurs, and takes another drink of scotch.

    He holds out the jar, just as a wrench appears on the bar near Mercy. The plumbing is indeed the usual plumbing for a sink. Nothing weird or magical, not obviously so.

    Jon frowns at Cael. "I--I don't know. It's not that I don't trust everyone. But Lydia's--well, she /was/ my friend. And what if something happens, and I could have helped? She's supercharged with the power Viscera gave her. I don't know if I can just sit by and wait while people go after her."

Cael Becker has posed:
    "If that's what you need to do, love - then absolutely. You know I support you," Cael says firmly, giving Jon a squeeze. "I just don't want you to push yourself too hard, you know? Like always... I've got your back, yeah?" She uses her free hand to play at Jon's brightly colored hair for a few moments, before she drops it down to her glass, picking it up to take a drink.
    "Do you hope to save her, then?" she asks. "Or do you think you simply owe it to your friend to see things through - no matter the outcome?"
    Her gaze lingers on Jon, before she looks towards Mercy - wrinkling her brow. "A gun and an orange are hardly the same thing. ...why are you taking apart the sink?"

Mercy Thompson has posed:
    "I appreciate it," not saying thank you to the fae/house. She puts the jar under the pipes, and uses the wrench to pull it apart so the water will pour into the jar. Once she ahs that she gives the pipe a sniff. Seeing if maybe when she rinsed herself off in this, some worms maybe got down into the pipes. If so then she knows the source of contamination. Also proving it is indeed /her/ fault.
    "IS," says Mercy. "You forgive friends and stay by them. Especially if they are magic controlled to do stuff they wouldn't." Mercy's voice coming from under the sink. "Everyone be silent a moment please."
    Mercy waits a beat to get her requested silence then takes the wrench to slam it on the pipe that drains down. Letting it ring and putting her ear near it to listen to the echo as it flows. Using THAT to give her some close to where the plumbing and possible lower levels are.
    Mercy will also say, "A gun and an orange may be the same to a fae. I'd be shocked if there aren't fae that oranges are poisonous to. I mean cherry sees are known to have tiny bits of cyanide in them. To answer your question though Cael." Mercy pauses and does a second bang to listen again. "I dove into the sink and washed off the yuck when I arrived here after the attack. I'm guessing it is possible a larva or worm got down the drain. Thus the 'lower levels' in question and source of the problem. Also I'm curious how the plumbing works here."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "I don't know that I can forgive this," Jon says quietly. "And even if I can, I'm not ready to just yet. Maybe it'll turn out to have not been Lydia at all, but--" He sighs, and shakes his head. "I'm in no emotional state, regarding what Lydia did to me, to contemplate forgiving her, or saving her. She violated my bodily autonomy in the worst kind of way. And the question of how I feel about that, /personally/, isn't--I am allowed to be hurt, and upset. I am also refusing to be responsible for deciding what happens to her, because I'm /biased/ just now and I know it."

    A pause. "Because the question, really, is--is this actually something Lydia would /never, ever/ do? Not even in the darkest parts of her heart? I don't actually know. Until I do, and until I've /healed/, I can't really think about any of this very clearly."

    He glances at Cael. "I think that regardless of anything else, Viscera is a threat and needs to be dealt with, one way or another. We can sort out 'saving Lydia' once we've got the threat under control. I think I owe it to her other victims to make sure there are as few as possible. And I think that maybe I need to face the thing that hurt me."

    The scent of the worm thing--papery and musty, with more of the bug goop over the top--is there in the pipe. And the echo indicates that the pipe leads /way/ down... somewhere. Hard to say where. There's some kind of grate, maybe, from the echo?

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael nods her understanding, and presses her forehead against Jon, staying there silently for a moment, one hand going behind their head to hold them there, possessively. "I get that," she murmurs quietly.
    "And I agree. The sooner we stop her - the fewer victims there'll be. I, uh-" She frowns for a moment then admits quietly, "It was remarkably easy for me to just- forget, and put aside the fact that she was my friend." Still using the past tense, it seems. "And then I remembered she helped us with the tattoo, and that- I might still owe her for that, you know?" she remarks, letting out a sigh.
    "It's probably not a good thing that I'm willing and able to just- shut off how I felt about someone, like that. But maybe it was just because of how much she wronged //you//?"
    She makes a face and rubs at her nose. "Did you find another of those damned worms?"

Mercy Thompson has posed:
    YEP. Her fault. There's a faint thump of something on wood from under the sink. That be Mercy knocking her head against it on purpose for being so dumb. "I'm an idiot," she chides herself. Live and learn Mercy. "Jon," she calls out. "We need a plumber. That or wherever this pocket house connects to dump waste is working as a backdoor for the gross to climb up into."
    She's not trying to ignore the Lydia thing. She gets it was bad and something really not good happened between her and Jon. She just doesn't know all the information to give an opinion and has enough on her plate at the moment. "I say the anger is more aimed at Vee and Narly then at our sapphic vampire."
    She stands up with the pipe and the jar with the water. "No I think I found were they are coming from. Likely my fault they got into the pipes. Not sure if we have a septic tank or what. There sounds like there's a grate or odd echo down there."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "Maybe a little worrying," Jon replies to Cael blandly. "Anyway, a lot of how I'm going to feel will be based on finding out precisely what happened, how much culpability Lydia has, and how she deals with it after the fact. But If I stay home I'll just sit there fretting while other people deal with her. I can handle it. I'm not as fragile as all that."

    He looks over at Mercy and sighs. "Pipes. Bloody terrific. Well, that's another thing to look into--where exactly do those pipes lead. For now, I think we try to figure out wards. Alarm wards, at the least, so we know when more of them show up. Is there such a thing as a magical plumber?"

Cael Becker has posed:
    "I'll talk to Caldwell," Cael promises Jon quietly - because - yeah. It probably isn't completely normal to just //stop// caring about a friend like that. Even if they have wronged the person she loves. For the moment, she lapses into quiet, just watching Mercy at the sink. After all, she can't help with wards. That's more Jon's area, or Rien's. ...or Lydia's.

Mercy Thompson has posed:
    Mercy considers and says, "I think it may be a good idea to turn off the water main. If we can do that. Sure no showers here any more. I used one but it was after you cleaned me some Jon." She's a car mechanic, not a plumber. She looks for a way to stick a sign on the sink and to write a big 'DO NOT USE' sign for a short term solution. "I don't know any magical plumbers, you and Rien are the ones who do clean up stuff it seems. Maybe Chas can do something. For all I know we just need to blow hard into the pipes to flush a clog out." She sets the wrench on the bar top as well. "You two have a lot to talk about. I'm going to go hunting through here some." Mercy walks to the bar and strips to the buff, her back to the others. Her clothes are folded up and set on the piano. "You. Don't let anyone, or thing, touch my clothes," tapping the instrument. Then she shimmers to her coyote form. She paws at her nose and will begin to go up through the upper door to start hunting and tracking the pipes as best she can.