[Training] tomorrow there'll be more of us

WESSEX out of the night that covers me It’s as good a day as any for a wander in the Glade. She might have been in Torchline, but they’ve got some nasty, unpredictable storms, and Wessex is over unpredictable environments at the moment. The Glade is never unpredictable. The Glade is beautiful, even in Deepfrost. Though there’s the slight chill of late spring in the night air, she’s dressed as if it were summer, the burns from the lava nearly healed by now. The sweet grass is poking up, bright green and fragrant and it reminds her of a simpler time. There’s movement in the tree; Wessex freezes, on ‘alert.’ With the supposed Fae killer - but no, it’s just a Hanging snake. Several of them, in fact. They move among the boughs, making their way closer to the ground and the person walking through the area, their tongues flickering in and out curiously. How can they identity a thing which has no known smell? black as the pit from pole to pole i thank whatever gods may be for my unconquerable soul

MABEL

No need for the parasol as she stretched out into the evening sprawl, indifferent to the cold, to the haze, to the choking measures miring the rest of the world down. Perhaps there was something to be said for either ignorance, inexperience, or skirting around everyone else’s trials and tribulations – a time to adhere to learning curves, before firing away into their own devastations and ruins. And while Mabel didn’t intend to gloriously fuck up like so many of them had here, that didn’t mean it wouldn’t happen eventually.

She wandered into the abyss of the Glade; old habits gesturing and adhering to her movements, lingering down the familiar grasses. Once she’d snagged and snared traps along these reaches, secretive, furtive things, because if their crops didn’t supply food then there’d be starvation – and eventually it came anyway to the little farm, to the smaller children, to the ignorant parents.

Her fingers grasped hold hard on her little parasol, taken out with her in case she meandered for too long and morning rose in fringes of dangerous sun. Another seemed to be doing the same, and Mabel froze in familiar fashion, predator or prey, marked in her vicious uncertainty. But as her eyes focused, she realized she knew who it was, and a customary greeting floated from her presence. “Wessex,” and a nod of her head, respectful, even given the last time they’d spoken.

I bare my teeth
and stretch my claws out

WESSEX out of the night that covers me The sound of a branch cracking sends her head whipping about, trying to find the source. Goddess, she’s jumpy tonight, and it’s weird because individually, the Fae probably aren’t much of a challenge for her. It’s not the little fuckers she’s wary of (though she’ll always thing of Delah as a worth opponent), it’s what they represent and the traps they could spring on the fairly predictable demigoddess. When she is able to identify the visitor, Wessex relaxes, her hand extending to reach out to a hanging snake while the rest of her turns to her youngest sister. “Mabel,” comes with a slight smile, whatever irritation she’d felt at their last conversation gone. Such things often ebbed and flowed l like the tide in the Wraith, producing strong reactions at the time that faded to shrugs and dull aches with a little time. Her body is full of such memories, a map of fights and misunderstandings that eventually either end up unimportant or a mild obsession. “How are you?” Living alone (even with her twin) at sixteen is bound to be a challenge. black as the pit from pole to pole i thank whatever gods may be for my unconquerable soul

MABEL

Maybe they were all at odds with the elements, considering Wessex’s movement – and she’d always thought the Wraith to be a part of the darkness itself, fluidly morphing into its structures, and then off on her way. Perhaps it was the circumstances surrounding the world now – Fae attacks, ominous doors, tension filling with the strike of a match.

The inquiry laden before her wasn’t expected though – the girl had rarely interplayed with niceties, with general conversation, too absorbed in thoughts, too aligned to some other subterfuge. But there didn’t seem to be any other game meandering through here, and the inquiry was simple enough. No complexities burdening the horizon, no pressing of some other factors against the midnight oeuvre. “I’m fine.” Truly – wandering in the midst of a path, striving to find a balance, a place to dig her feet in and commit to something for the Voice, for the cause. Her head tilted, parasol balanced across her shoulder, twirled in place there. “What about you?”

I bare my teeth
and stretch my claws out

WESSEX out of the night that covers me Fine - the notion of fine seems so far away. Still, Wessex is glad Mabel feels that way. If she hadn’t been so wrapped up in other things, she might have spent more time with the twins, trying to cultivate… something. Something resembling a relationship, where she can feel more than (mostly) envy and some relief that the other is fine. “Good. That’s good.” Her interest is pulled as the snake tries to wrap itself around her wrist, scales set to skin and so she pulls away from the tree, causing the reptile to come with her. Hmmm. Curious little things. “Not so fine,” she says almost absently, putting her arm and the snake down to give Mabel more or her attention. “Anything I can do for you?” Keeping busy, that’s the trick. And right here, right now, her mind is starting to wander and delve into introspection. Best to keep that at bay. black as the pit from pole to pole i thank whatever gods may be for my unconquerable soul

MABEL

Perhaps it was a blessing to not be so readily, heavily, involved with the world at the moment, drifting along on the current, waiting for her chance to pounce upon shining scales. The voids of suffering were paramount conflictions from each region, but she had no way of knowing, of understanding, the reaches and pulls of their forces. Too fresh, too new, too incapable, too ignorant; she understood the scrambling notions clawing at the cobwebs of her mind – just not where to place her feet.

Her eyes went to the snake, an arch to her brow that disappeared when Wessex directed attention back at her. She stood a little taller, a little straighter, wondering how to become that unyielding force, thoughts circumventing back to the meetings held, to the decisions made, to the way it had scratched and beckoned at their enamel during LongNight. “Could you teach me how to fight?” Not a timid voice, but the beginning of a roar, something echoing and pervading while her heart hammered. She didn’t want to be a casualty of an upcoming war, one blip across a list of scrawled out names; she didn’t want to be like the rest of her family, save for Evelyn, perished, tarnished, and erased.

I bare my teeth
and stretch my claws out

WESSEX out of the night that covers me Cubs grow into lions, squeaks into roars, and pinprick attempts into needle-sharp claws, if given the time and attention. Mabel’s request is met with a slow, feral smile that spreads across the Wraith’s face like an oil slick. Oh, she is proud of her already, of her continued grappling with the world. Some flourish in a minute like her sister, and others like the two of them must fight for everything they’ve got. “I’d love to,” she fairly purrs in return, most of her previous ‘not okay-ness’ left behind. Wasting no time, the older woman has her shadow discard the snake, an idea forming. “Let’s see how you move.” No threat there, just starting at the basics as she’s done with others. Only this time… it’s time to add a little twist, perhaps because she is Ascended. Their greatest strength is how they move in the dark. Wessex and her shadow bend down to gather some glow stones, taking little care to which ones the grab. She then moves a fair distance back and says, “Either catch or dodge these.” The glow stones won’t come with any particular strength, not that they would hurt if they strike Mabel anyway, but they will come staggered and bright, from two different sources, lobbed at her when it seems she’s either dodged or caught the previous stone. They throw eight in total, without expectation or comment. black as the pit from pole to pole i thank whatever gods may be for my unconquerable soul

MABEL

The notion of refusal, of the Wraith simply saying no, hadn’t really entered the girl’s mind until a moment later, when brambles and nettles caught her outright. How ridiculous it would feel, to stand there, before a powerful being, and be told she couldn’t, wouldn’t, train her. And the broken webs shook in her skull – until the feral smile appeared, and suddenly she had nothing to worry about at all.

Not the trial of the upcoming feats. Not the void beckoning to them, over and over and over. Not the world churning, begging for them to be vanquished beneath thumbs and old, primordial aches.

“Okay,” an acceptance of the inevitable, but Mabel cannot make any promises on how she moves. She was a farm girl, born and raised for hard, enduring labor, and the only quick action might have been trying to recover loose animals. "Thank you." Because she was grateful.

But she didn’t shy at it. Gravitated toward the challenge, to the volley of glow stones suddenly extended, thrown, tossed her way – a hand extended to catch one, leaping over another as it moved to pummel her feet. It was all instinctual, all honed from inherency, rusty, tried and true only from exposure to silly games before life took a different path. One landed squarely on her shoulder when she wasn’t looking, but with no pain, she continued striving, trying, catching several others and bounding away from most.

I bare my teeth
and stretch my claws out

WESSEX out of the night that covers me “No need to thank me,” she replies quickly. Though Mabel might not know it yet, she’d do it for any Ascended who asked. Hell, most non-Ascended too, assuming they weren’t dicks. The glow stones fly - some caught, some dodged, and only one hit. Not bad, the Wraith thinks. Not a bad place to start. There's potential brimming in the Natural, but then the demigod would expect nothing less from the kind of survivor she and her twin are. Then she calls upon her shadow again and pulls a knife from a boot, handing it to it to act as a go-between. It takes the knife to Mabel, offering it silently, while Wessex steps forward and plants her feet in a wideish stance, weaponless. “Good. Now attack me.” And that’s it, the options are open-ended. Without any specifics, the girl is free to use whatever method she chooses. Whether or not Wessex will strike back, she hasn’t decided yet. black as the pit from pole to pole i thank whatever gods may be for my unconquerable soul

MABEL

With the first component completed, the girl extended a soft sigh; uncertain if there was going to be a weight of disapproval, if there were limitations bound to her already, and the Wraith would be done with her immediately.

Instead, she was handed a knife.

Knives were familiar. No farm child was worth anything if they didn’t know how to handle a simple jackknife, serrated edges necessary for a variety of means and measures across the land. But she’d rarely used it to stab. To inflict pain. To maul or mutilate.

She wasn’t certain if she found the notion fulfilling, rewarding, or daunting. Some of the latter, most of the former. Another breath, and she tucked the offered weapon into her grasp, staring down at the hilt, before lunging.

Entirely inexperienced in this mode, but impulsive and unpredictable, intending to lance for somewhere near Wessex’s upper arm.

And expecting some full repercussions in return.

I bare my teeth
and stretch my claws out

WESSEX out of the night that covers me Flowing like water, a small stream in the light of the moon, the Wraith lives up to her name and neatly twists away to the left. She keeps her eyes on the girl’s body, her stance, the way she holds the knife, and continues the instructions. “Good. Keep a firm grip on the hilt, but a loose quality to your attacks. I’m going to keep blocking or evading, you keep looking for openings.” She wants to add more, wants to push because the half a year let to them seems too short to get much done - but there’s always the risk of overwhelming her young pupil and she doesn’t want that. Wessex has to remind herself that improvisation comes after the basics. You can’t run before you can walk, and so on and so forth. So she keeps moving, continuing to the left and then stepping back to encourage an advance from Mabel, trying to foster a sense of persistence and pressing forward, rather than defense. black as the pit from pole to pole i thank whatever gods may be for my unconquerable soul

MABEL

Mabel expected the Wraith to dodge; lifetimes of experience against her measly, immature one had obviously taught her well. But there were no consequences to go along with it, no burst of frenetic energy, no punishment doled out and shoving her into the ground. Instead, she was permitted to hone in rituals, rites, and bombardments – and finally the youth relaxed into the formation.

She nodded at the insinuations and instructions, fingers tightening over the hilt, loosening her form, and her eyes narrowing to glance, to look, for openings. But what did those look like? How would she know? Was it a guess, an estimate, a prediction, or something noted and noticed over time?

The teenager moved forward again, a simple walk, before bolting to the right, attempting to slash at Wessex’s hip or side.

I bare my teeth
and stretch my claws out

WESSEX out of the night that covers me As a teacher, Wessex usually starts with positive reinforcement, only moving to negative reinforcement when the pupil demonstrates that they learn better from getting their ass kicked than the learning process of bumps ‘n bruises. Of course she doesn’t know these exact terms for it, but has generally found that encouragement goes a lot further with some people than others. And for lack of knowing which kind of person Mabel is, it’s a good place to start. And when the girl darts forward to slash at her side, the Wraith sashays lightly to the left, keeping an eye on their surroundings. There are some trees coming up behind them, so she quickly instructs, “If I weren’t Ascended, do something that might trap me up against those trees.” A light smile, a challenge, trying to show the basics of all the elements one has to hold in one’s mind while facing an opponent. black as the pit from pole to pole i thank whatever gods may be for my unconquerable soul