Logs:Tamping Down The Fire

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Tamping Down The Fire


Characters: MacKenzie and Wesson
Date: 2020-07-08
Summary: MacKenzie manages to talk some sense in Wesson's made dash for vengeance, while also helping her out in more ways than one.
Disclaimers: Not much

Its pretty early in the morning when Wesson finds herself in front of the warehouse belonging to The Fixers. Her jacket is draped heavily across her arm, indicating that the pockets are pretty full. Moving right up to the fence, she peers around to see if she can hear or spy anyone outside whom she might recognize rather than just storming in.

MacKenzie comes rushing out of the warehouse, steam rising all over her mechanics jumpsuit. Wearing a welding mask, tilted up and leather welding gloves up past her elbows, she carries a curved piece of metal in a pair of tongs, coughing. Immediately she dumps it into a large barrel drum full of water, making a squelching noise then leans on the edge with a sigh. Looking over, she blinks a few times. "Oh hi....Wesson?"

The large heated up metal being tossed into the water attract's Wesson's fiery eyes easily enough as she cocks her head to the side. "That's kind of how I felt when I escaped," she offers in a deadpan voice. Turning towards MacKenzie, she gives her a firm nod, "Yea, Wesson. You're MacKenzie, right?" She approaches the fence to get even closer to see what the Autumn courtier is about to do with the metal. "Don't worry, I'm not here to badger you about, well, you know." She waves her hand dismissively. "I was just wondering if you can help me out with a few things. If you aren't busy..." she trails off as she peers into the drum.

MacKenzie lays the metal piece on a table, tongs rested above it as she pivots with a grin. "You arn't badgering, always glad to help." A gloved fist pumps to her side, elbow bent. "Come, sit on the deck, want a drink?" A glove is pulled off as she reaches in a cooler and pulls out a root beer. "We have...water, soda, root beer, guiness and...something call Bawls..." She gives a shrug and looks back. "Whats on your mind?

"Sure, grab me a rootbeer," Wesson offers as she moves to enter past the fence. Her footsteps are heavy thanks to her boots; but despite the summer heat she doesn't seem to be too bothered by her warm clothes. Pulling out her pack of cigarettes and lighter before she sits on the deck, Wesson flips it open and extends her hand towards MacKenzie in offering. "Thanks," she murmurs first before looking around the yard idly. "You and Way seem to know and trust a few humans." Her thumb points behind her at the warehouse. "Well, I encountered another human as well, but this one...knew or sensed what I was. He didn't 'ping' anything on my radar though. I was wondering if you'd know anything about that?"

MacKenzie uses her elbow to open both bottles and offers one over. "Well, I am the Courts Ambassador to Mortal Affairs. It's my business to know humans, interact, make contact, keep mask infractions down, handle bedlam issues. That sort of thing. I even have a lawyer in retainer to help Lost with legal issues like getting paperwork or lawsuits. So...I can definately help and I can pool resources to handle whatever comes up." Taking a long drink, she hops up and climbs up into the swing bench. "First off, are you sure they are human and not werewolf or vampire? They can see us for what we are. Did you get a name?"

"Positive," Wesson answers with a solid nod as she accepts the rootbeer. She lifts it up in thanks at MacKenzie before taking a sip. Placing the bottle next to her, she pulls out a cigarette for herself and places it between her lips. When she speaks it is around the filter, letting it dangle a bit loosely, "unless he can hide his presence so well, like hours." She finally lights up the cigarette and takes a deep drag before leaning back a bit as she settles her fiery eyes on MacKenzie. "He says his name is Roland, owns a strip club called Bottom's Up. Was in the military too. He said he encountered others like us. Said their names were Peter and Lilium, know anything about'em?"

MacKenzie rubs the side of her neck, thinking. "I know Peter. I met him. He is an Oathbreaker, of his own admission. I broke oath with Way, Seraphine and the Autumn court. Lilium I do not know, but I believe Way does." Thinking as she looks over into open air. "Well, I know there are some humans with some mystical abilities. He apparently is one. We need to find out if he is accorded. If he isn't, that needs to be brought to the Court. Non accorded Mortals knowing about us is...an issue." Flexing her hand. "Strip club...figures. Ok, I will look into this. Having him associated with an Oathbreaker makes it a bit worse. I will say though, Peter did come to me, looking to make amends. "

At the mention of Peter being an Oathbreaker, Wesson pops both of her eyebrows upwards before she leans back in appreciation. "Well fuck," she murmurs as she pulls the cigarette from between her lips. "Apparently Peter owes Roland a favor, that's why Roland asked me to look into him. He even said he suspect Peter to reneg his word..." She trails off with a snort. "That human is getting more and more impressive," those words are said so very reluctantly before she nods slowly. "I didn't ask him about the Accord, but I did agree to do this favor for him. When I give him the information I'll be sure to ask him. These humans with abilities just seem to fly under the radar, don't they?" The last bit is said in amusement. "But I guess that means they aren't really associating since he can't seem to find Peter and asked me to look into him."

MacKenzie nods as she considers. "I will contact some people to look into him. I will say, just be careful. Peter says he is trying to repair this Oathbreaker but the Wyrd would compell him to, I believe. With the mortals I have met, many have powers , though if they do, they are generally listed in the Accords, which should keep us all a bit safer. If you are in the Freehold, you are already protected by the Accords." Folding her arm, she lightly taps her bottle against the side of the bench. "How are you doing otherwise?"

She nods in agreement about the Accord her eyes focusing on her cigarette for a moment as she ponders something. Finally, Wesson breaks her attention away from it to bring up the bottle and take another sip. MacKenzie's question is enough to cause the Elemental to stop mid-sip, blinking at the Wizened before lowering the bottle. It is obvious the question has caught her off-guard for some reason. "I'm, uh, fine I suppose. It's odd, trying to get back into the idea of being part of a collective rather than in the fringes. It's...disorienting." She didn't forget what MacKenzie said about Peter, however, as Wesson takes another long drag from her cigarette post drink. Blowing the smoke away from the Wizened, she tilts her head curiously. "So what did Peter break his oath over? Or is that something private?"

MacKenzie rocks a little on the bench. "I don't have all the particulars but I'm working on finding out. It isn't necessarily private, but also do not want to spread rumors without having it exactly. The oathbreaker part I have no doubt on. I know he has to make right with Way, Fee and the Autumn court to clear it. Most likely it had something to do with the Motley as he was with Way last time he was in town. Now, Way is with us."

A frown etches across her brow as Wesson watches MacKenzie, tilting her head curiously. "Considering how attached Way seemed to your Mackley," she is too amused by the word to let it drop. "I can see how that might not have sat well with him." The Elemental nods in agreement about not wanting to spread rumors, seeming to completely understand MacKenzie's reasons. "Your group, it's...interesting," though it feels like it might not be the right word she is looking for. Taking another deep puff from her cigarette, she blows the smoke out slowly as she takes the time to word her next question. "How...How do you do it? From what Way made it seem, your group is a family of sorts. How can you handle being with them and not..." she trails off as she waves her hand towards the distance, as if to encompass the Hedge, Huntsman and all the horrors that goes bump in the night. "Obsess over what has happened? All I can think about is how I want to hurt Them."

MacKenzie pulls a knee up to her chest."Well, I escaped over a year ago, a year and a sprinkling of months I suppose. When I first got out, it was with a few others, took a while to get my feet. My goal was getting back to my brother. That...itself ended up being wasted effort, but in doing so, I found my family here." She gestures to the warehouse. Resting an arm on the knee. "Do I hate them, yah....I do. They are gods in Arcadia. To the point most who come back, remember very little of it. It warps our minds and our bodies." Holding up a finger, "First, its important we keep the mortals safe, and us from being taken back. Then, sure, if we can push an offensive that can destroy them....I'm all about it. But there is no real listing of how many Fae there are. I've met one other Lost who shared my Keeper. Every ....other...one, has a different Keeper. That means, for what I've seen, there are at least 30, and thats with just who we have living in this city. Out power, our strenth is what we can do on this side. Stop privateers and loyalists to keep their allies down. Keep them out of dreams. Stem their ability to take more. "

Wesson listens intently to what MacKenzie is saying, so much so that her eyes are downcast; she punctuates the Wizened's words with the occasional nod of agreement or understanding. "Yea, I get it," she returns, though her tone suggests she doesn't get it entirely. "There are many, I just figure once we know how to take one down, then we can see they aren't..." she waves her hand to look for a word before deciding, "indestructible. They aren't perfect. Every thing has a chink in its armor." Wesson glances over her shoulder at the warehouse then back to MacKenzie. "Once we realize they aren't, maybe more of us can go back to actually finding families or rebuild without the fear of it being taken away once more." Grabbing the rootbeer bottle, she polishes off the rest of it before letting out a quiet burp, thumping her chest as she does so. A bit of smoke from her cigarette escapes with it. "It feels like if I stayed too long with any human it'll just attract Them in some way. But you guys seem to hold yourselves alright. I guess maybe because even your own humans aren't really human."

MacKenzie tilts her head. "Realize, us as Changelings...as court of the Lost, we have learned over centuries. All of this isn't new. Fae have been around forever, using us as tools. The Courts, the reason we change from season to season, is to confound them. They may want humans, but don't fall to the folly we are forgotten. They want us back. Most of us, if we escaped, its because we are great at what we did. And...as we stay out here, we get better as we learn what we truly are." Thinking a moment. "The reason the court changes every season is to keep it shifting, changing, not the orderly thing that the Fae understand. We are harder to find because we built this the way it is. Motley's where we build bastions in the dreams, to keep them out. Its all defenses. " Looking around, "The human's here, yeah they may be in danger, but I'd dare say less with us around. If some loyalist came here to cart one of them off, we have two werewolves, wolfblooded, psychic and three Lost. Thats better than a room full of mortals, even a room full of cops."

Mentioning the seasons, Wesson looks down at herself then at MacKenzie's Autumn feel before she leans back to try and relax. "You're right. Its been this way for so long, you'd think someone else has found a way," she murmurs quietly as she regards the fences. "Maybe the secret is in the mix," she continues as she looks back at the warehouse. When MacKenzie lists their numbers and abilities, Wesson blinks widely before quirking her eyebrows, "/Three/ Lost, two werewolves-...Shit, that is a fucking army. If that Roland guy, as a human, was able to shoot that well, I can see how even your humans could be useful. You're right, you are much stronger. The wolves are predators themselves it seems. I like the one you called Ramsey. He feels like a Summer courtier but he thinks like Autumn."

MacKenzie chuckles, "Ramsey is brilliant. The guy reads all the time, and doesnt put up with crap. We all have our strengths, thats what makes this such a good thing." Tilting her head, "Listen, your anger and desire to take out a Fae, its not a bad thing. There is risk but its worth it. I think we need to look at it at as, lets find out how to take one down. It may be that taking one down is different from one to another. Each Fae most likely has its own weakness, depending on desires, what they aim at, care about. But lets get our skills and ammo set. If a Fae steps out of line and starts an assault, starts mass kidnappings more than what has happened, we target that asshole. If we spend all our shot taking out one that doesn't do much, then we show our hand. But if we like..take out a Hannibal Lector of Fae, then we can say, we did the right thing." Watching Wesson a moment. "You have great instinct, I just don't want to take on a battle and lose the war."

Wesson is nodding along as she smokes her cigarette, but when MacKenzie mentions the element of surprise when it comes to a rogue True Fae, the Elemental actually freezes. She stares at MacKenzie very intently for a long moment; one can almost sense the not-so-oiled gears creak in her head as she thinks it over. "Fuck," she finally whispers out before squishing her cigarette against the heel of her boot. "Fuck. FUCK. You're right," that seems to anger her for some reason as the fire in her veins and eyes light up in a flare. The anger is most definitely not directed at MacKenzie however. Shoving herself up to her full height, Wesson reaches up to rub the back of her neck. "You're right. We would be exposing our hand. And...Fuck, if She hasn't been active here then what am I doing?" She begins to pace a bit, like little flame stuck in candle mode when it wants to roar like a bonfire. "It's just...It's just...Ungh!" She grunts out, her hair flaring up yet again to release the fire within her. As soon as the little explosion happens, however, Wesson's shoulder slumps and her head drops as she stares at the ground. "Its not right."

MacKenzie scoots over and offers a spot on the swing bench next to her. "Now ..don't you dare let that fire go out. We need to be vigilant and still work on this. Its just more than just an offensive, well in my opinion. We, as a collective, are not just might. We have many tools at our hands, some of them the world has never seen. The Court has a militia and a quartermaster and all that. Help us build not only our stockpile but plans and methods. One, it doesn't show our hand. Two, it puts us at the ready once a Rogue does appear. And...less people at risk. I get angry too, not to your degree. But, I can't fight. I swung a sword once, was kinda funny actually. But I can make anything. I can help plan. I wish I could do what you do, but I'm not even close."

At the offer of space on the bench, Wesson eyes it in both wanting and wariness. She doesn't take it, not yet at least, the fire is still too strong in her to relax. Instead she looks back to MacKenzie as she nods solemnly. "Yea, I get it. You're right." The militia pulls her out of the funk lightly as she exhales slowly to try and loosen her muscles. "The Militia. Yea, I was going to see if I can speak to someone about that," she agrees. "Give me an outlet before I start firing everywhere." When MacKenzie describes her actions with the sword, Wesson attempts to curve the corner of her lips upwards. "Swords ain't bad either," she murmurs quietly; but its the last bit that catches her attention once more. Reaching for her jacket that she had off, Wesson digs her hand into a back inner pocket to slowly and carefully pull out a gun. It's a blued steel Smith and Wesson 586. Making sure her finger isn't anywhere near the trigger, she offers the gun towards MacKenzie. "This may be easier for you. You don't have to get all up and close, especially if you don't want to. This fella is called Little Harry."

MacKenzie looks very unsure before reaching out and taking the gun. Running metal fingers along the side, she holds it close, smelling the side. Whispering quietly to it, she nods. "Aren't you beautiful....precision workmanship. " Sitting back, she weighs it in her small hand. "I have no skill in using this, Wesson. I would be more dangerous to allies if I waved one around, without learning." She flips it around, holding the muzzle and offers it back. "If I were to get one, I would need to learn before I could be trusted."

"Yea, I get it," as much as a Summer Courtier Elemental can at least, though she does seem a bit skeptical. Wesson takes Little Harry back and looks at him rather fondly. Her skin matches the color of the gun's blued steel. Her thumb brushes against the groves of the cylinder before Wesson blinks and looks up at MacKenzie, the fire lighting up but much more tame in comparison to what it was before. "Wait, can you...can you make Little Harry better? Or make a new Harry? I'll pay you of course, whether in favors, money, whatever you need. If you've got time that is," she glances at the warehouse. "I originally wanted Dirty Harry's gun, a huge Smith and Wesson Model 29, .44 caliber but that gun fucks with my aim from the recoil. If I can upgrade this or get one better..." she trails off then realizes she is starting to sound like a puppy wanting a treat. Standing up straighter, she looks MacKenzie square in the eye yet again. "If you can't, it's all good. I just have to ask."

Wesson smiles, a genuine smile that rarely touches her lips, at MacKenzie. "Are you kidding me? I'd teach you in a heartbeat. You'd be a machine of machines," she says that with all the complimentary tone she can muster. After glancing once more at Little Harry, as if saying goodbye to a friend but assuring him it won't be too long, the Elemental pops out the cylinder and empties the bullets before snapping it back in place. She offers the gun back to the Wizened, along with the bullets in her other hand; just in case. "Yea?" she looks down at herself briefly as if trying to see it with new eyes. "Shit, and here I was thinking the same thing about you. You're old school power, powered by the fuel of fire. Plus that elbow pop is god damn useful."

MacKenzie opens her arm, showing where the joint closes to capture the bottlecap. "Eh, just how we are made I suppose." Wiggling the fingers on her right hand which are all chromed. "While working on a motorcycle, put my hand in the chroming bath while working on the pipes, by mistake. Burned like you wouldn't believe, but ...hey..mirrored hand, right? Plus its a bit smoother to the touch now." Taking the gun very carefully, bullets go into one pocket, the gun resting on her leg. "When I escaped, some Lost was all jumping around that I was steampunk. I had no idea what he was saying. Then, looked it up. ...world has changed alot since '85." A shrug, "I think I'd really enjoy working with you, Summer."

"85? Shit, that was the year I was born," Wesson returned in amusement. "The internet must have really fucked you over." At the mention of steampunk, she nods in agreement. "Yea, exactly, that's what I was thinking. Wait, fuck, you dipped your had in the chroming bath? Holy fuck." She peers at MacKenzie's fingers intently as if she can see it better before leaning back. "At least you don't need a mirror to check if there is spinach in your teeth," she adds solemnly. "Me too, Autumn. You...have a way of making me see things I never would have considered. Not many can do that. You start shooting and we're getting you a chrome gun. Make it look like its part of your hand."

MacKenzie grins, "Well, I was only gone for 10 years, so for me, I'm like...22? Something like that. My fetch is 40 something. I can't ever see my brother, cause I have no way to explain why I'm 20 years younger. They live here in New Orleans. Its...hard." Taking a breath, "So, I suround myself with new family, so, thats just how things build out now." Inclining her head, "You finally get an appartment or are you staying at the community center?"

The mention of MacKenzie's brother is enough to make Wesson slump her shoulders again. "Hey, I get that. It was the same with mine back in Florida. One of the reasons I came here. I...can't imagine how it must feel like if you seem him walking down the street accidentally. Its not exactly an emotion I want to go through," she admits. "You're made of strong stuff, MacKenzie," she tells the Wizened honestly enough. "Yea, I have a place outside. I appreciate the Community Center for what it offers, but sometimes its...easy to get lost among the Lost," her own words seem to amuse her a bit. Reaching into her back pocket, she pulls out her cigarette pack again then moves to her jacket to get a pen out. Ripping a bit off the packaging, she quickly jots down her number and address before offering it to MacKenzie. "In case you need anything, I mean it, MacKenzie, anything. Ring me up or come visit. You're a rare one."

MacKenzie grins and takes the number. Pulling out a card, embossed tin. "Here is mine, same thing goes, Wesson. Actually, be cool if you just call and we can like meet up for lunch or something too. I mean, it doesn't need to be some crisis or issue. "

MacKenzie's offer seems to take Wesson back a bit as she blinks rather owlishly. Accepting the card and looking down at it, it's obvious that the Elemental feels grateful, and rather awkward at her gratefulness. "I, uh, yea. Of course. Thanks," that little smile returns again as it curls the corners of her lips upwards. Placing the pack of cigarettes and the card in her back pocket, she reaches for her much lighter jacket, drapping it across her arm. Wesson then finally breaks her awkwardness with a husky, "I better head out. But, MacKenzie? Um, thanks." Its one word, but it is incredibly heavy with meaning. She reaches up with two fingers to flick away from her forehead in a casual salute. "I'll see you around."