“Judgement?” Diligence gave a look of great interest, as if he understood something unsaid. His lips pursed into a crude, cunning smile, “Sure, I got tha’ perfect thing in mind. I’ll get on them bearin’s in a minute.”
Chortling, he bounded off back towards the recesses of the mountain, taking the low path back within. The rest of the artisans watched him depart, before coming to their own taskings.
“I should take some time to mingle with the quarrids,” Creative gave one large gust under his wings, “let us see how palatable a reunion is to them.”.
He soared upward, taking the high-path over the mountain.
“We should probably work on getting a message out,” mentioned Clever, rubbing her chin.
“Our kine is probably worried enough,” answered her sister, mirroring the motion, “I can’t make a habit of ripping holes in the fabric.”
“Could be bad.”
“Very.”
“Make them come to us?”
“Of course. We might need the help.”
“Let’s see what Diligence is hiding in the storerooms.”
“There might be some things to help us train Willow too.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
Almost as one, the two sisters set off, an odd mirror of each other as they went. Rays of fresh light pierced the clouds, passing the two and brushing over Willow and Noble. It seems the bad weather had passed them by, rolling over the dark forest across the valley. Once again, the beauty of the garden pronounced itself in a garden of color.
A small clearing of a throat beckoned attention to wounded Noble.
“If you won’t rest,” the Captain gripped the scabbard of a new blade at his side, “then neither will I.”
[The Dorms] A Perilous Acquaintance
Re: [The Dorms] A Perilous Acquaintance
Idly Willow stood as she watched the Artisans busy themselves, and she couldn’t help but smile a bit as she took time to appreciate the demi-gods in a more casual setting. It was almost easy to forget the almost comedy of the dream-like situation. With a slight chuckle she thought that nobody back home was going to believe her after everything was said and done. The idle thought paused as she turned to Noble.
“Ya sure? I mean, being blunt, ya kinda got beat the fuck up, like, ten minutes ago,” her eyes darkened in a squint as she looked thoughtfully off to the side. “Actually, I’m not one to talk. You do you, boo.”
Looking towards the stairs back to the Hall, she stood awkwardly for a couple moments.
“I’mma go grab my stuff.”
With that, Willow used a combination of Pewter and Mithril upon reaching the stairs to practice some of her precise floating; totally not to either be lazy, or to pretend she was an astronaut. Retracing the path that she felt rather confident with at this point, she returned to her room like a hurricane.
“Heeeeeey! I stopped the world from ending, or at least partially. Now I’m gonna go spar with some demi-gods if anyone wants to come along.”
With a peppy step she sauntered over and untied the lasso holding the spriggan aloft. Slinging the still bound spriggan over her shoulder like a day pack she went into her bedroom. Just as she was reaching for her saber she froze while the hamster wheel of her brain began spinning. Shaking her head, she remembered that her loophole of having Helen carry it had been patched out. Plus, some line saying she had to use a different weapon when training. Kind of a dead giveaway, that one.
“Well, beans,” she mumbled, realizing with disappointment that she came all this way just for the spriggan. Sighing, she swung the spriggan around so she was looking at it face to face. “Alright, Thief, here’s the deal. Diligence agreed to judge you, and just to curb your enthusiasm a bit I should let ya know he an’ I are pretty buddy-buddy. But I want my rope back.”
With that, Willow strode out of the room along with any of her attachés that decided to join on her way back to the garden. A short while later, she returned.
“While I’m not one to complain about some extra cardio, this commute might get to be a bit of a pain.”
Walking over to the table, she sat the spriggan in one of the chairs and tied his to the seat. Was it a bit excessive? Sure. Was she not taking any chances after the trouble the wood sprite put her through? The spriggan would be fine being bound a little longer.
“Okay, let’s see here.” Willow strode towards the golem that clutched the saber. “Heeeey buddy. It cool if I borrow that for practice?”
“Ya sure? I mean, being blunt, ya kinda got beat the fuck up, like, ten minutes ago,” her eyes darkened in a squint as she looked thoughtfully off to the side. “Actually, I’m not one to talk. You do you, boo.”
Looking towards the stairs back to the Hall, she stood awkwardly for a couple moments.
“I’mma go grab my stuff.”
With that, Willow used a combination of Pewter and Mithril upon reaching the stairs to practice some of her precise floating; totally not to either be lazy, or to pretend she was an astronaut. Retracing the path that she felt rather confident with at this point, she returned to her room like a hurricane.
“Heeeeeey! I stopped the world from ending, or at least partially. Now I’m gonna go spar with some demi-gods if anyone wants to come along.”
With a peppy step she sauntered over and untied the lasso holding the spriggan aloft. Slinging the still bound spriggan over her shoulder like a day pack she went into her bedroom. Just as she was reaching for her saber she froze while the hamster wheel of her brain began spinning. Shaking her head, she remembered that her loophole of having Helen carry it had been patched out. Plus, some line saying she had to use a different weapon when training. Kind of a dead giveaway, that one.
“Well, beans,” she mumbled, realizing with disappointment that she came all this way just for the spriggan. Sighing, she swung the spriggan around so she was looking at it face to face. “Alright, Thief, here’s the deal. Diligence agreed to judge you, and just to curb your enthusiasm a bit I should let ya know he an’ I are pretty buddy-buddy. But I want my rope back.”
With that, Willow strode out of the room along with any of her attachés that decided to join on her way back to the garden. A short while later, she returned.
“While I’m not one to complain about some extra cardio, this commute might get to be a bit of a pain.”
Walking over to the table, she sat the spriggan in one of the chairs and tied his to the seat. Was it a bit excessive? Sure. Was she not taking any chances after the trouble the wood sprite put her through? The spriggan would be fine being bound a little longer.
“Okay, let’s see here.” Willow strode towards the golem that clutched the saber. “Heeeey buddy. It cool if I borrow that for practice?”
Re: [The Dorms] A Perilous Acquaintance
Groaning like a tree pulled to one side, the shady spriggan tagged along as an unwilling participant. The rest of her group tagged along, relieved to see Willow in good health and spirits. Bjorn returned to her shoulder, Phyllis stuck to her side, Helen to other, with Ghyslain and Curie bringing up the rear. The pathways of Dyrnwyn were becoming more familiar now, with more and more of the subtle markings standing out, guiding them along.
When they returned to the clearing, a few odinkine were gathered in the trees. They were preoccupied in a serious discussion.
Phyllis came to a stop before her Captain, and upon seeing his battered state, began to weep.
“You are the standard bearer of the Maple Company,” addressed Noble, gently. The recognition stopped the pitbull hybrid short in her tears.
“Color-Sergeant Phyllis of the M-Maple Company,” saluted Phyllis, her hand shaking over her chest, “reporting. I am derelict of duty, unseen in your time of need and found wanting as a bearer of my company’s colors.”
As Willow began to tie up the Spriggan, the marred Captain came down to Phyllis’ level and put a hand on her head.
“Your company’s colors touched the ground for only a moment, and you paid with your eye to hold them high,” consoled Noble, smiling sadly. These words lit a fire in the Sergeants heart, drying some of her tears. She rose to speak, but he stopped her, “And a family squabble is hardly your responsibility.”
Willow’s Spriggan began rocking back and forth as he found himself held in place. The legs of the chair nearly skipped off the ground before Ghyslain scooped up the chair in his hands and held it aloft.
“Cut it out—” the leafy prisoner protested.
“A fatherless son, motherless child. Both are one and the same,” spoke Ghyslain in a haze, “Both are gone. Grief. The mother has given herself to grief. The father is a thief.”
At that, the Spriggan had nothing more to say. Helen, paying attention to the exchange, merely muttered something about getting used to him, while Ghyslain began laughing hysterically.
As Willow approached the golem, it turned its head sharply, in a discomforting agility for its size. Carven eyes regarded her emotionlessly, but a tense flexing of the fingers told her all she needed to know. Despite clearly not wanting to, it presented the blade to her.
Despite the noble, gleaming finish of the orihalcum sword, a sense of revulsion briefly struck Willow as her hand neared it. Something old lingered in the weapon, something dark.
As her fingers brushed the handle, a vision of the faces of shades assaulted her mind in rapid fire.
The first of them looked like a woman with many weeping eyes, her mouth sewn shut. The next a woman with fogged, dirty glasses, hiding grinning, decaying features. A withered face with a lipless mouth, shadowed starkly by a hood, came after. Following that was a figure wearing a sundered helmet, six eyes staring through the eye holes back at her. A mandled creature, wearing molten, black armor, chittered with volcanic menace.
Lastly, there came a tree, a gnarled thing in a dark glade. Willow knew this tree, she had seen it before and it fought to appear in her mind every time she felt hate. A pair of eyes opened in the shade of its branches.
When Willow came to, the golem had carefully withdrawn the blade, just short of her touch. It watched her, but made no move to keep the sword from her.
When they returned to the clearing, a few odinkine were gathered in the trees. They were preoccupied in a serious discussion.
Phyllis came to a stop before her Captain, and upon seeing his battered state, began to weep.
“You are the standard bearer of the Maple Company,” addressed Noble, gently. The recognition stopped the pitbull hybrid short in her tears.
“Color-Sergeant Phyllis of the M-Maple Company,” saluted Phyllis, her hand shaking over her chest, “reporting. I am derelict of duty, unseen in your time of need and found wanting as a bearer of my company’s colors.”
As Willow began to tie up the Spriggan, the marred Captain came down to Phyllis’ level and put a hand on her head.
“Your company’s colors touched the ground for only a moment, and you paid with your eye to hold them high,” consoled Noble, smiling sadly. These words lit a fire in the Sergeants heart, drying some of her tears. She rose to speak, but he stopped her, “And a family squabble is hardly your responsibility.”
Willow’s Spriggan began rocking back and forth as he found himself held in place. The legs of the chair nearly skipped off the ground before Ghyslain scooped up the chair in his hands and held it aloft.
“Cut it out—” the leafy prisoner protested.
“A fatherless son, motherless child. Both are one and the same,” spoke Ghyslain in a haze, “Both are gone. Grief. The mother has given herself to grief. The father is a thief.”
At that, the Spriggan had nothing more to say. Helen, paying attention to the exchange, merely muttered something about getting used to him, while Ghyslain began laughing hysterically.
As Willow approached the golem, it turned its head sharply, in a discomforting agility for its size. Carven eyes regarded her emotionlessly, but a tense flexing of the fingers told her all she needed to know. Despite clearly not wanting to, it presented the blade to her.
Despite the noble, gleaming finish of the orihalcum sword, a sense of revulsion briefly struck Willow as her hand neared it. Something old lingered in the weapon, something dark.
As her fingers brushed the handle, a vision of the faces of shades assaulted her mind in rapid fire.
The first of them looked like a woman with many weeping eyes, her mouth sewn shut. The next a woman with fogged, dirty glasses, hiding grinning, decaying features. A withered face with a lipless mouth, shadowed starkly by a hood, came after. Following that was a figure wearing a sundered helmet, six eyes staring through the eye holes back at her. A mandled creature, wearing molten, black armor, chittered with volcanic menace.
Lastly, there came a tree, a gnarled thing in a dark glade. Willow knew this tree, she had seen it before and it fought to appear in her mind every time she felt hate. A pair of eyes opened in the shade of its branches.
When Willow came to, the golem had carefully withdrawn the blade, just short of her touch. It watched her, but made no move to keep the sword from her.
Re: [The Dorms] A Perilous Acquaintance
“Oh come off it,” Willow said distractedly as the newest vision flashed through her head. “Even the cutlery is giving me visions? Starting to sympathize with Gandalf and all the times he had Sauron spooking him whenever he came close to touching an artifact.”
Eyeing the saber, and the golem holding it, Willow hesitated for only a moment more before grabbing the hilt and pulling the sword free. Tentatively she held the sword as though it was going to bite her, or stab her, or cut her arm off, or at the very least beam another unpleasant vision into her head. Whatever the things she had been shown were, they were worthy of being creatures in a Hellraiser spin-off. That said, she felt like she’d seen the last face somewhere before, or at least something fitting its aesthetics. She shook her head and stepped away from the golem, wanting to dispel the image of that damn tree that brought up the rear of the vision.
Looking back at the garden, she couldn’t help but smile a bit despite the . Sans the spriggan, the sight was rather wholesome. Good reminders of why she should be fighting. This wasn’t about playing at being a hero, or even about testing her limits. No, she wanted to fight because there were people in this world that didn’t deserve to have their lives reset.
Not wanting to interrupt Noble chatting with Phyllis as it seemed important for the wee sergeant Willow moved to an empty area and did something she should have done when she got her own saber back in Navipolis; she started trying to deduce the basics. Between her brief glimpses of Mister Caxton, and her brief usage of her saber, it was fairly obvious that she had been using the thing all wrong.
“Efficient movement… not wasteful…” Willow played back the last duel she had with Caxton where he had reprimanded her wasteful action economy. She had been putting her whole body into her motions, like she was playing cricket or rugby; using her entire arm and upper body in the swing. But this wasn’t an English arming sword. She rolled her wrist side to side, swishing the blade while trying to use as little of her arm as possible.
Eyeing the saber, and the golem holding it, Willow hesitated for only a moment more before grabbing the hilt and pulling the sword free. Tentatively she held the sword as though it was going to bite her, or stab her, or cut her arm off, or at the very least beam another unpleasant vision into her head. Whatever the things she had been shown were, they were worthy of being creatures in a Hellraiser spin-off. That said, she felt like she’d seen the last face somewhere before, or at least something fitting its aesthetics. She shook her head and stepped away from the golem, wanting to dispel the image of that damn tree that brought up the rear of the vision.
Looking back at the garden, she couldn’t help but smile a bit despite the . Sans the spriggan, the sight was rather wholesome. Good reminders of why she should be fighting. This wasn’t about playing at being a hero, or even about testing her limits. No, she wanted to fight because there were people in this world that didn’t deserve to have their lives reset.
Not wanting to interrupt Noble chatting with Phyllis as it seemed important for the wee sergeant Willow moved to an empty area and did something she should have done when she got her own saber back in Navipolis; she started trying to deduce the basics. Between her brief glimpses of Mister Caxton, and her brief usage of her saber, it was fairly obvious that she had been using the thing all wrong.
“Efficient movement… not wasteful…” Willow played back the last duel she had with Caxton where he had reprimanded her wasteful action economy. She had been putting her whole body into her motions, like she was playing cricket or rugby; using her entire arm and upper body in the swing. But this wasn’t an English arming sword. She rolled her wrist side to side, swishing the blade while trying to use as little of her arm as possible.
Re: [The Dorms] A Perilous Acquaintance
With an earned grace, Willow flourished her sword, finding it supremely balanced and superbly fitting for her hand. Each practicing motion seemed to flick off the darkness, bringing forth a light feeling in the blade. It sang, cutting through the air.
Clang!
Another blade struck aside the Allomancer’s sword, sending her weapon wide. The mass of godly meat and metal that was the centaur Noble, came short of her. Despite his battered appearance, he was in high spirits.
“You carry the saber like a duelist, you are not inexperienced,” commented the Captain, “but not practiced either. When you move, your body cries out for an explosive strike, but you are stilted by the movement.”
Noble strutted forth and with a quick flourish his blade circled over his wrist in a violent strike, “With the right movements, Metal-eater, you can use all the power available to you. Let's practice them. There are six striking positions, master these and you’ve an edge on anyone: top, descending left, left, and bottom, ascending right and right…”
Their session was long and informative, with Noble going to great lengths to show the forms for Willow and against Willow. He was a patient teacher, if not over eager, constantly offering feedback and correcting form. One thing was clear, though, he was enjoying himself.
At one point, a man descended from the Archives building, carrying a tray of tea. He set down the tray at the mossy table at the center of the garden. His one hand free, he brushed away some of the growth.
A defenseless Percival Caxton sat at the decrepit chair, taking his tea in the unkempt garden. The golem came over, extending its hands silently for the blade she was using.
Noble, flagging, looked perturbed by the interruption, “Friends of yours?”
Clang!
Another blade struck aside the Allomancer’s sword, sending her weapon wide. The mass of godly meat and metal that was the centaur Noble, came short of her. Despite his battered appearance, he was in high spirits.
“You carry the saber like a duelist, you are not inexperienced,” commented the Captain, “but not practiced either. When you move, your body cries out for an explosive strike, but you are stilted by the movement.”
Noble strutted forth and with a quick flourish his blade circled over his wrist in a violent strike, “With the right movements, Metal-eater, you can use all the power available to you. Let's practice them. There are six striking positions, master these and you’ve an edge on anyone: top, descending left, left, and bottom, ascending right and right…”
Their session was long and informative, with Noble going to great lengths to show the forms for Willow and against Willow. He was a patient teacher, if not over eager, constantly offering feedback and correcting form. One thing was clear, though, he was enjoying himself.
At one point, a man descended from the Archives building, carrying a tray of tea. He set down the tray at the mossy table at the center of the garden. His one hand free, he brushed away some of the growth.
A defenseless Percival Caxton sat at the decrepit chair, taking his tea in the unkempt garden. The golem came over, extending its hands silently for the blade she was using.
Noble, flagging, looked perturbed by the interruption, “Friends of yours?”
Re: [The Dorms] A Perilous Acquaintance
Now this was Willow’s jam. She imagined this was how Drysi felt when doing her brainiac stuff, but for Willow she got an immense sense of gratification when she could train; and more specifically when she could practice muscle memory. Sure, there was something fun about barbarically cleaving away with a sword but taking the first step on learning a martial art felt like playing a clean note after screeching away on a violin.
“Top. Descending left. Left. Bottom. Ascending right. Right,” Willow repeated in time as she performed the motions. If Noble was an overeager teacher, then Willow was a student gunning for extra credit. All the feedback was noted, and the corrections were internalized and practiced. So when Percy’s arrival seemed to mark the end of practice, Willow was almost more annoyed by the end of her fun than she was about this weird alter ego scenario Mister Caxton seemed to have put himself in.
“Nope,” Willow responded to Noble’s inquiry, giving a deadpan glance to first Noble, then the golem as she returned the saber, and then lastly to Percy. With an exaggerated sigh Willow scratched her head and shook off the malaise. Turning back to Noble, she gave him a broad smile. “Thanks for the practice, Noble. We’ll have t’ pick it up again later though.”
Turning, she made her way over to the table the man had set up at. Reaching the table, she leaned forward and planted a hand down onto the surface.
“Sup, Bruce Wayne?”
“Top. Descending left. Left. Bottom. Ascending right. Right,” Willow repeated in time as she performed the motions. If Noble was an overeager teacher, then Willow was a student gunning for extra credit. All the feedback was noted, and the corrections were internalized and practiced. So when Percy’s arrival seemed to mark the end of practice, Willow was almost more annoyed by the end of her fun than she was about this weird alter ego scenario Mister Caxton seemed to have put himself in.
“Nope,” Willow responded to Noble’s inquiry, giving a deadpan glance to first Noble, then the golem as she returned the saber, and then lastly to Percy. With an exaggerated sigh Willow scratched her head and shook off the malaise. Turning back to Noble, she gave him a broad smile. “Thanks for the practice, Noble. We’ll have t’ pick it up again later though.”
Turning, she made her way over to the table the man had set up at. Reaching the table, she leaned forward and planted a hand down onto the surface.
“Sup, Bruce Wayne?”
Re: [The Dorms] A Perilous Acquaintance
Rattle! The teaware shivered at Willow’s presence on the table. Despite the cold severity, Percival Caxton was a lithe, small man. His features were small, but wrought, like iron. Like Drysi, his eyes were green and bright, but were framed in a way that suggested a life haunted with peril. When Willow announced herself, he didn’t let it interrupt his tea, in fact, he went on for a moment as if she hadn’t walked up.
Mid-sip, the eyes of the man that had killed her twice swiveled over the cup.
“I don’t exist in this world anymore,” he stated, matter-of-factly, “if that’s what you’re getting at. That is, if you’re confused as to why your peers don’t seem to remember who I am.”
The golem shriveled when Mr. Caxton looked at him, “Unless you’re referring to my preference to building into dark caves, I can’t quite pin down your reference. If anything, Mr. Flynn is a more suitable Bruce Wayne.”
The fingers of his only hand hooked into the buttons of his vest, “Now, are you here for another test? I don’t see a sword in your hand, and you’ve hardly improved enough to consider trying me without one. I’ll be here for another couple of hours, each day; until you give up. Or succeed.”
Something resembling coyness bled into his visage, “Or maybe you’re looking to improve your manners? Killing Vengeance with kindness? I feel like the sword is a much shorter road.”
Mid-sip, the eyes of the man that had killed her twice swiveled over the cup.
“I don’t exist in this world anymore,” he stated, matter-of-factly, “if that’s what you’re getting at. That is, if you’re confused as to why your peers don’t seem to remember who I am.”
The golem shriveled when Mr. Caxton looked at him, “Unless you’re referring to my preference to building into dark caves, I can’t quite pin down your reference. If anything, Mr. Flynn is a more suitable Bruce Wayne.”
The fingers of his only hand hooked into the buttons of his vest, “Now, are you here for another test? I don’t see a sword in your hand, and you’ve hardly improved enough to consider trying me without one. I’ll be here for another couple of hours, each day; until you give up. Or succeed.”
Something resembling coyness bled into his visage, “Or maybe you’re looking to improve your manners? Killing Vengeance with kindness? I feel like the sword is a much shorter road.”
Re: [The Dorms] A Perilous Acquaintance
“Did you just…?” Willow looked a little dumbfounded as she stared at Mister Caxton, and then she started to laugh. Not quite an uproarious laugh, but a good one nonetheless. It felt like it had been a while since she’d laughed, and that fact that Mister Caxton of all people had made cracked a joke tipped her over into the manic side of the scale. “You would hear me disagree, but since the golem seemed to want its McGuffin back right around when you showed up I figured it was a sign that you wanted to have a word with me.”
As Willow lifted her hand from the table and hooking her thumbs into belt loops, Percy could get the sense that the teen seemed a lot more at ease now that she had a few moments to actually take a step back and breathe; or more accurately get some proper physical activity in for the first time in weeks. Nothing against marathon walks or the occasional brawl with a wraith or a demi-god, but there was something about training, good consistent physical progress, that helped her unwind.
“And what do you mean by not existing anymore?” Willow’s expression and posture were quizzical, but not confrontational. “You’re sitting right here drinking tea.”
As Willow lifted her hand from the table and hooking her thumbs into belt loops, Percy could get the sense that the teen seemed a lot more at ease now that she had a few moments to actually take a step back and breathe; or more accurately get some proper physical activity in for the first time in weeks. Nothing against marathon walks or the occasional brawl with a wraith or a demi-god, but there was something about training, good consistent physical progress, that helped her unwind.
“And what do you mean by not existing anymore?” Willow’s expression and posture were quizzical, but not confrontational. “You’re sitting right here drinking tea.”
Re: [The Dorms] A Perilous Acquaintance
There was the sneaking hints of a smile on his face, nothing like before, nothing like a look that knew a plan was coming together. Mr. Caxton might have been genuinely enjoying himself.
“Your acuity is nothing quite like Maelgwyn or Krieger, I would not need to explain it to them,” came his bitter honesty, “Michizaki would have known before it was said. Hallinel would have understood as it happened. Your awareness, your sharpness leaves much to be desired. The mind is the cornerstone of magic, whether through finesse or study.”
Those words made the mountain air much colder, and as he spoke the Alchemist slowly came to stand. He was careful in his movements, as if it were easy for him to fall. As he continued, he took a particular interest in a moss-ridden wall, turning away, “But none of them could have come as far as you have. Every single one of them lacks the heart you have. Noble and the others needed that, to see that. To see someone like themselves; overcoming. They will only depend on you more now as they learn to trust themselves.”
Meanwhile, Noble was chatting among Willow’s retinue, with Phyllis constantly reminding the others who they were talking to. A group of quarrids came stomping down the stairway from the mountain center with Diligence, with one of the quarrids carrying a large axe over her shoulder. The odinkine in the near-by tree became quiet, watching intently.
“I have bet it all on you, Willow,” announced Mr. Caxton, coming back to the table, now meeting her eyes, “I have erased my presence in this world; memory, body and history. Now, I am more a stranger here to the smallkin and gods than you are. There is no Father to displace the balance of power against Vengeance. The board is set. If I don’t move, neither can she, not before you can make a difference.”
“Your acuity is nothing quite like Maelgwyn or Krieger, I would not need to explain it to them,” came his bitter honesty, “Michizaki would have known before it was said. Hallinel would have understood as it happened. Your awareness, your sharpness leaves much to be desired. The mind is the cornerstone of magic, whether through finesse or study.”
Those words made the mountain air much colder, and as he spoke the Alchemist slowly came to stand. He was careful in his movements, as if it were easy for him to fall. As he continued, he took a particular interest in a moss-ridden wall, turning away, “But none of them could have come as far as you have. Every single one of them lacks the heart you have. Noble and the others needed that, to see that. To see someone like themselves; overcoming. They will only depend on you more now as they learn to trust themselves.”
Meanwhile, Noble was chatting among Willow’s retinue, with Phyllis constantly reminding the others who they were talking to. A group of quarrids came stomping down the stairway from the mountain center with Diligence, with one of the quarrids carrying a large axe over her shoulder. The odinkine in the near-by tree became quiet, watching intently.
“I have bet it all on you, Willow,” announced Mr. Caxton, coming back to the table, now meeting her eyes, “I have erased my presence in this world; memory, body and history. Now, I am more a stranger here to the smallkin and gods than you are. There is no Father to displace the balance of power against Vengeance. The board is set. If I don’t move, neither can she, not before you can make a difference.”
Re: [The Dorms] A Perilous Acquaintance
The congenial laugh that Willow carried died down as she felt pretty sure Mister Caxton had, in essence and in different words, called her the equivalent of a himbo. Got heart, got spunk, but about as sharp as an unhewn hand axe. Alright, she supposed it was back to business, but damn Mister Caxton had a bleak way of handling business. Her posture shifted once more, and her hands hooked to her hips looked sterner rather than the easygoing ranch hand had looked a moment ago.
“Two things, Caxton,” Willow began, giving him a level stare that gave off a sense of maturity the Briton tended to lack. “First; I’m doing all of this so everyone here doesn’t need to have their lives and memories rewritten, and for better or worse I include you in that. The Artisans? They are admired and respected you, even seeing you as a father figure. Stealing those fond memories from them is honestly pretty cruel, even if the intention is good. I’m not going to rag you about it though, because I would bet that doing this hurts you too, even if you aren’t showing it.”
The teen turned and started to walk back towards the others, but held up a hand with a peace sign.
“Second! It’s pretty boring to bet on a sure thing,” Willow looked over her shoulder and flashed a cocksure grin, referring to both Percy’s bet and her own. With this, Willow left the self-imposed exile to his ruminating and meandered back to the gathering, a slight sense of concern dawning on her as she saw the quarried with a big ol’ axe.
“What… uh… what’s with the axe?” she asked once close.
“Two things, Caxton,” Willow began, giving him a level stare that gave off a sense of maturity the Briton tended to lack. “First; I’m doing all of this so everyone here doesn’t need to have their lives and memories rewritten, and for better or worse I include you in that. The Artisans? They are admired and respected you, even seeing you as a father figure. Stealing those fond memories from them is honestly pretty cruel, even if the intention is good. I’m not going to rag you about it though, because I would bet that doing this hurts you too, even if you aren’t showing it.”
The teen turned and started to walk back towards the others, but held up a hand with a peace sign.
“Second! It’s pretty boring to bet on a sure thing,” Willow looked over her shoulder and flashed a cocksure grin, referring to both Percy’s bet and her own. With this, Willow left the self-imposed exile to his ruminating and meandered back to the gathering, a slight sense of concern dawning on her as she saw the quarried with a big ol’ axe.
“What… uh… what’s with the axe?” she asked once close.