Battle Hymn of the Republic

“Familiars, being fonts? Oh no, it’s because I’m,” Laoise flicked her hair, casting prismatic color out from her hair. In the same movement a pair of vast, feathered wings spread, snowy white above, and radiant colors awash below, ”an angel.”

She held this magnificent, practiced pose for only a moment, before plopping down into her own chair, “Or something like that.”

In the time it took her to settle in, the unearthly glow left her, and she was regular, familiar, Laoise. She circled her finger gracefully on the table and brought up a platter of tea. Another circle grew a plate of snacks from the wood.

“Percival is a god, if you haven’t caught on,” explained Laoise, pouring Willow a cup, “the kids he’s obsessed about are demi-gods, which puts me just below them. God, demi-god, angel; the standard top-three. It’s a little cliche for a man whose whole theme as a deity is creation, but here we are.”

She raised a hand, anticipating the next question, “Before you ask, I died here, and instead of letting nature take its course, Percival carried me with him in his ascension.”

Another finger came up, “Just like any god, you can give offerings, earn blessings, even pray to him, or me, if you like.”

A third finger shot up, “No, he has no idea what he’s doing.”

A fourth, now, “Yes, you can die here. Permanently. Unless you’d like the angel treatment, but I wouldn’t count on Percy pulling it off twice.”

Commanding the table, she leaned forward, resting her chin on a hand.

“All that said, and out of the way, I really want to know what you’re doing here,” asked the familiar, softening the assertive demeanor, “are you okay?”

Light applause sounded as Willow tapped her hands against the table at Laoise reveal of her wings. Idly she remained splayed on the tabletop as the tea manifested, preparing herself a cup without lifting herself up. As the familiar started through Willow’s anticipated questions, the young Brit listened intently. She didn’t feel the need to say none of those questions had popped into her head, and figuring there was no harm in letting Miss Laoise think she had some insightful inquiries. Once the conversation was put back in her court, Willow finally sat up and sipped her tea.

“I’m haggard, truth be told. Training was brutal, but the payoff was worth it. You said you saw me fight, right? Pretty damn good, if I do say so myself!.. even if the win surprised me…” Willow grinned broadly.

With an avian snap, Laoise straightened, her fingers curled into fists on the table.

“Can’t say I’m not impressed,” cooly responded the familiar, “considering I’ve never seen you even near a sword before today. Can’t say I wasn’t concerned when I saw you and Percy duking it out with real swords. Can’t say I’m not sure I want to know what you did to get to that point.”

The room shifted, as a new door folded open, leading to where the side of the cottage facing the manor. A warm light painted brightness into the space, creeping in from a more real space.

“Don’t get me wrong, I think you’ve accomplished a lot,” Laoise smiled, finally, “You look tired, but you look great. I know you’ve been feeling a lot of pressure to get better since what happened in Hawaii, but…”

A breeze blew in from the open doorway, “... maybe it’s time to start enjoying your Summer. You only get so many more before there aren’t any more breaks. We could go to 277 Delights, I hear it’s pretty good.”

“Oh hey! I heard about that place. Sounded super tasty!” Willow perked up like a hound when offered a biscuit. Excitedly she pushed her chair away from the table and moved towards the door. What could be better? Ice cream was always rad. Miss Laoise seemed like such a cool person, and Willow had lowkey been hoping for more chances to get to know her; and the day outside smelled fresh and crisp like it had just rained over the night. Oh… Willow slowed as she neared the door.

“Time moves faster in the other world. So thinking about it, it’s probably barely ten in the morning of the day I left,” Willow spoke genially, her hands clasping behind her head again as she appeared to be thinking. That crisp air had followed the big storm that Manon had arrived to her room through. It was the crisp air she had thought she felt when following Horst through the window. “Ten in the A.M. seems a little early for ice cream.”

Turning to face Miss Laoise, Willow wore her usual candid smile as she regarded the familiar. Miss Laoise had been stern, but overall kind and helpful during Willow’s past interactions. Now this passage back to the real world felt like something she would do. This might be bypassing the wardrobe. Miss Laoise taking the matter into her own hands to get Willow out of harm’s way. Like Mister Flynn, the younger Flynn seemed to have a mindset for keeping the students away from actual danger; objectively, not a bad mindset. Willow however still had business to take care of.

“And, way I see it, since I’m experiencing the relativity of time, I am actually getting the longest Summer any student could hope for. I think I’m on month five right now. So, soon as I’m done, bam, plenty of vacation time left to rest and relaxate. Rain check on the snacks?”

Willow’s smile grew into a broad grin as the cheeky Brit committed to the horrors still in front of her.

The snowy woman’s cheeks tensed at the refusal, provoking a smile that looked like support. What worst Ruarc had seen, she had seen, and whatever she hadn’t, she felt. Willow was right, there was a characteristic guardianship that the Flynns felt of their charges. Laoise had the look of an older sister who found the younger growing up a little too fast. She had already watched it happen to her druid, and, against his most ardent wishes, it was happening to Willow, too.

“Willow,” came a voice the Allomancer was used to, with a tinge of what Mr. Flynn was used to, “whatever it is you’re trying to do here; is it worth what it’s doing to you?”

For what it was worth, Willow did take time to consider the matter. Realistically, she was literally killing herself to see this done; between actually dying several times and the fact that she was aging faster than her friends outside. Was it worth it? Was she just doing this from some exaggerated attempt at atoning for how mean she had been in the past? Or was this from a genuine desire to help a realm she had just found out about; one that would pass through several more ages and likely forget about her by the time she graduated? Perhaps there was even a third option.

“Hehe, I bet they’ll build a really sweet statue of me once this is done,” Willow spoke without losing her grin. “Willow Metal-Eater; the kick-ass lass who made Vengeance grass.”

Grin dropping slightly, Willow brought one of her hands around the side of her head to scratch contemplatively at her short hair. “Ask me again once this is done. I’ll probably have a less sardonic answer.”

A delicate hand emerged from the flowing robes that hugged Laoise’s form more like they flowed in water than air, and that hand went straight to her temple. She rubbed deeply, and in a meditative way that showed this was not the first time that she had dealt with this type of bull-headedness. Rising from her chair, she came across the room to Willow and leveled with her, which was difficult, as she was a bit shorter.

“I cannot just let you do this to yourself,” she started, her gaze both earnest and firm, “but you’re a big girl, I understand that. I can only encourage you in the best ways I know.”

Then, she turned, and clasped her hands together in a way that made her appear the picture of divinity and intoned, “Percival Bredon Caxton, God of the Elementalia, come to me. Now.”

Silence rose like a din, as even the noise of the outside world came to a stand-still. Laoise kept her pose for a few seconds, before a vein began to grow on her forehead. When a small wind blew in from the open door, it became too much.

“PERCIVAL,” her voice came forth with such force, that it didn’t sound possible with human lungs.

The front-door tore open.

“NOT,” answered Percival Bredon Caxton, God of the Elementalia, disheveled, exasperated, and hanging on the door handle, “so loud. For all that is holy on this plane and the next, Laoise, have you forgotten you have my number– AUGH! Ah! Augh!”

In his angry rebuke, the familiar, who even made Percival look a bit tall, stomped over and snatched the Alchemist by the ear, and drug him over to Willow. He protested every step of the way, pale from blood-loss, barely half-dressed, and unwashed from the fight. The Allomancer could see his neck wound hand healed into an ugly scar, a remnant of his defeat. Laoise only let go when he was standing in Willow’s presence.

“Tell her to leave,” ordered Laoise, crossing her arms. Percival brought an arm up in disbelief, looking between the two of them.

“Do you want to leave?” asked Percival, lost of all his grim rapport, full of impatience and vinegar, especially as Laoise back-handed him on the arm, “AUGH!”

“That is not what I asked. She is a student trying to clean up a grown man’s problem. Tell her you will take care of it yourself. You will have your friends handle the problem.”

The way the two looked at each other showed that Percival had explained the severity of the situation before, and that Laoise did not care. He looked at Willow in a way that showed her just how on-the-ropes he was now. The mental calculus had no mask to hide behind. He wrenched his eyes shut, and turned to the Allomancer, clapping a hand on her shoulder.

“If you want to return home, this is the time,” said Percival, in a way that perhaps only Willow knew how much it pained him, “What you’ve learned here is far beyond what you will need to be who you need to be for your friends out there. These next steps will teach you about nothing except how much this realm has suffered. I don’t even know if you’ll come out of this stronger if you attempt it.”

Laoise furrowed her brow at Percival, clearly seeing that he had evaded her demand, but her eyes softened when she looked at Willow. Even with that, she looked even a small bit hopeful that it was enough to sway the girl.

“If I leave, what are the chances that this cycle ends poorly like the others?” Willow asked. She had spent a few moments looking at her boots, genuinely considering the options. After which she looked up met Caxton’s gaze before shifting it to Laoise. “Ya see… the skills I’ve gained might be more than enough for my friends out there, but the problem is I’ve got friends in here now. If these next steps I take show me only the suffering the realm, and my friends, have endured then that is all the more reason I need to stay. As a cowboy once said, sometimes if you want to see a change for the better, you have to take things into your own hands.”

She kicked at some non-existent dirt on the wood floor.

“If I have the strength and skill to make a difference, but choose not to do so; then my strength and skill aren’t worth the bruises I took to gain them. I’m sorry, Miss Laoise, but I intend to stay until this matter is resolved.”

“Resolved, hm?” Laoise took Willow’s answer with much more grace than even Percival seemed to expect, “If that’s what it takes.”

Her arms still crossed, she gave a final sigh through her nose, closing her eyes. After a quiet moment of reflection, she turned for the door, wagging her finger with an idea in mind. The Alchemist was quick to speak up.

“Laoise, what are you doing?”

The familiar turned, smiling, “What do you mean?”

“You’ve got something in mind.”

The smile grew wider, “There’s my clever man. I was wondering where he went with all the stupid things you’re doing lately.”

Percival began to pale.

“You’re going to fetch Ruarc.”

The walls of the cottage tore open in a yawning sprawl of rocks, pouring forth salty water into the once pleasant abode. Cold, crisp air washed in over the wet and Laoise’s angelic form glowed over the backdrop of a gloomy day on the Isle of Skye. Her smile softened a bit as she rested a hand over the nearby stone.

“I’ve always wondered at how you could guess my thoughts as well as the lad I share them,” quipped Laoise, “Nonetheless, I’ll be back.”

Then, all at once, the room darkened and her countenance became severe, “Count on it.”

The rocks collapsed in like the surf in the distance, and, in an instant, they were both back in the room under Dyrnwyn. Percival, more than ever, looked properly gutted. He stumbled aside to a near-by chair and sat down, placing his face in his hand.

“Wow, uh, didn’t realize Miss Laoise could be so… intense. Didn’t think she’d take a rain check for ice cream so severely,” Willow spoke after the familiar had departed. Scratching her chin she was honestly a little off guard about the woman’s refusal to take no for an answer. On the one hand Willow couldn’t fault Miss Laoise for wanting to keep her away from a dangerous situation, but on the other she was older than most of the Menagerie had been when they started gallivanting; Hell, if she felt so inclined she could try playing the I’m old enough to enlist in Her Majesty’s royal army card. Sure it wasn’t terribly relevant, but if a sixteen year old can enlist to fight for the Empire, then seventeen year old Willow should be able to sword fight an embodiment of Vengeance. What’s more, it was Summer vacation and she had just decided to take an odd trip; none of Miss Laoise’s business what Willow did on vacation.

“Well, what was the figure you cited me before? Two weeks here made for about fifteen minutes there?” Willow shifted focus as she turned to Percy, taking in his rough appearance. “So I probably have, what, a month before Mister Flynn shows up? What was your big worry about it, by the way? Are you worried Mister Flynn will swat your nose for endangering a student? Or are you worried he’ll probably want to take over the matter and handle it himself? From what I saw in Hawaii, I can’t imagine he’ll just send me back to Safeholme and then waltz back to Scotland.”