A mouth moving wordlessly, eyes staring in disbelief, and hands fumbling without purpose. Willow tried to stammer out questions, excuses, and pleas that might make Mr. Caxton understand how far beyond her a task like this was. She had only been practicing with these metals for a number of weeks that hadn't even crossed into the double digits. She had only really been practicing with with Pewter and Steel in ways best described as blunt. She... performed best under pressure, and had to think on her feet many times before.
Moving quickly, Willow uncorked Iron, Steel, Pewter, Tin, Brass, Zinc, and Bronze. Immediately she began to burn Tin, heightening her perception; all at once the lights of the lab became harsher, its eclectic sounds more pronounced, and oh goodness the smells. Bronze followed shortly after, as she wasn't sure if being able to detect magic coming off of the box or its contents would come in handy; or even if she'd be able to decipher the the pulses and beats it gave off. Pewter, tried and true, burned easily; but this was not for the increased strength, instead she burned it for the enhanced equilibrium, poise, grace, and overall balance. She would need to be precise in her movements for what came next. Namely Iron and Steel, as blue lines of varying density and thickness sprang from her chest and lead to every metal object in the vicinity.
Right now Willow's biggest concern was whether Mr. Caxton thought the answer should be that she picks the lock of the box with Iron and Steel; making the misconception that they gave her metal telekinesis rather than pushing and pulling in direct straight lines originating from a point in her chest. Either way, she was going to need to be more precise than she'd ever been. Which is where one last ditch effort would come in. Burning Zinc and Brass, the Brit called Jakku over. Burning Brass, she soothed any suspicion and hesitation the fairy might be feeling, while with Zinc she enhanced Jakku's sense of trust and willingness to help.
"Hey Jakku, any hints? Or maybe you could open it?" Willow asked, after all, it might actually be just that easy.
[Safeholme] Under Advisement
Re: [Safeholme] Under Advisement
Sand continued to furiously fall to the bottom of the time-glass. The Alchemist watched from a distance, outside the heavier light of the central working area, sipping his tea. Zippo had brought him a notepad, and each time Willow made a move, he wrote something down in a swift short hand.
Ever impressionable, Jakku barely needed the needling to come to Willow's side. However, the emotional pushing caused the sprite to over-react, spending valuable seconds hugging the Allomancer's face.
"You're like," Jakku continued pressing her warm cheek into Willow's, "my best friend! Besides Mr. Caxton, of course, but he's my guardian!"
The fairy, after about ten seconds, settled down onto the anvil and picked up one of the thin, metal poles. "Mr. Caxton knows everything, he even knows how to pick locks, he showed me how to do it once."
With senses suffused with magical energy, Willow could hear the tumblers move as Jakku shoved the rod into the lock. The only magic that emanated from the box seemed to come from the amulet that had been stored inside of it. It was difficult to concentrate on that, as it became increasingly evident that Jakku was not being successful in her attempts, and the consistent, costly failures were beginning to inflame her.
"Mmmngh..." the fae growled at first, as Willow could hear the first tumbler slip
"Uggh!" she howled, losing her temper. The first tumbler slipped again when Jakku got to the second, now too frustrated for something that required a cool head and nimble hands.
"Mgh! I--... I can't do it!" she began to cry, threatening to flare with heat and damage the box.
A loud flourish of a pen road against the rough surface of paper at the edge of the central working area. Mr. Caxton took another sip of his tea.
Ever impressionable, Jakku barely needed the needling to come to Willow's side. However, the emotional pushing caused the sprite to over-react, spending valuable seconds hugging the Allomancer's face.
"You're like," Jakku continued pressing her warm cheek into Willow's, "my best friend! Besides Mr. Caxton, of course, but he's my guardian!"
The fairy, after about ten seconds, settled down onto the anvil and picked up one of the thin, metal poles. "Mr. Caxton knows everything, he even knows how to pick locks, he showed me how to do it once."
With senses suffused with magical energy, Willow could hear the tumblers move as Jakku shoved the rod into the lock. The only magic that emanated from the box seemed to come from the amulet that had been stored inside of it. It was difficult to concentrate on that, as it became increasingly evident that Jakku was not being successful in her attempts, and the consistent, costly failures were beginning to inflame her.
"Mmmngh..." the fae growled at first, as Willow could hear the first tumbler slip
"Uggh!" she howled, losing her temper. The first tumbler slipped again when Jakku got to the second, now too frustrated for something that required a cool head and nimble hands.
"Mgh! I--... I can't do it!" she began to cry, threatening to flare with heat and damage the box.
A loud flourish of a pen road against the rough surface of paper at the edge of the central working area. Mr. Caxton took another sip of his tea.
Re: [Safeholme] Under Advisement
"Woah woah woah! Easy there, Jakku!" Willow urged, flaring her Brass to sooth the sprite's agitation. "You did amazing! Better than I could have done with those picks. Thank you for trying, I'll take it from here."
Gently ushering the fiery fairy away from the chest, Willow sighed and considered how best to handle the matter. Wincing at intensity of the residual heat, Willow grabbed the picks that Jakku had been using and rested her ear against the chest. With a preemptive groan she upped the burn on her Tin, closing her eyes against the painfully bright light and cursing the awful din of the scratching pen. Focusing as best she could on the chest alone she tentatively inserted the pick into the keyhole and felt around. She'd never picked a lock before, but how hard could it be. Through her heightened sense of touch she felt the pick press into the first tumbler and move it. No sooner had she moved on to the next one then she heard the first tumbler click back to its default position. One more attempt, another failure. Willow began to understand Jakku's frustration.
Humming to herself, Willow flared Steel and focused on the lock mechanism. The blue lines shown with a bright blue brilliance, and while it may have been her imagination but she thought that she could make out thin lines pointing to the tumblers against the backdrop of the larger mechanism. In theory, with practice and a proper angle, she could pull the tumblers, but as is Willow was certain she would be far more likely to jam the lock and break the tumblers. Biting her lip, Willow inserted the pick once more and switched from burning Steel to Iron. Once the pick pressed up the tumbler, she pulled against the blue tether that she hoped connected to the tumbler. Not a lot, barely even the faintest tug, but she hoped enough to hold the small pin in place against the top of the mechanism. And, for good measure, she placed her off hand on top of the box to keep it from shifting.
Willow's humming shifted to the Mission: Impossible theme.
Gently ushering the fiery fairy away from the chest, Willow sighed and considered how best to handle the matter. Wincing at intensity of the residual heat, Willow grabbed the picks that Jakku had been using and rested her ear against the chest. With a preemptive groan she upped the burn on her Tin, closing her eyes against the painfully bright light and cursing the awful din of the scratching pen. Focusing as best she could on the chest alone she tentatively inserted the pick into the keyhole and felt around. She'd never picked a lock before, but how hard could it be. Through her heightened sense of touch she felt the pick press into the first tumbler and move it. No sooner had she moved on to the next one then she heard the first tumbler click back to its default position. One more attempt, another failure. Willow began to understand Jakku's frustration.
Humming to herself, Willow flared Steel and focused on the lock mechanism. The blue lines shown with a bright blue brilliance, and while it may have been her imagination but she thought that she could make out thin lines pointing to the tumblers against the backdrop of the larger mechanism. In theory, with practice and a proper angle, she could pull the tumblers, but as is Willow was certain she would be far more likely to jam the lock and break the tumblers. Biting her lip, Willow inserted the pick once more and switched from burning Steel to Iron. Once the pick pressed up the tumbler, she pulled against the blue tether that she hoped connected to the tumbler. Not a lot, barely even the faintest tug, but she hoped enough to hold the small pin in place against the top of the mechanism. And, for good measure, she placed her off hand on top of the box to keep it from shifting.
Willow's humming shifted to the Mission: Impossible theme.
Re: [Safeholme] Under Advisement
"One minute, Ms. Fairburn."
The words echoed like they had been projected across a hushed auditorium. It was almost enough to break Willow's concentration, but she was able to cheat a conventional technique in lockpicking and limit the movement of the tumblers as she went across. She had five to work through, and each one was a painful process of focusing, pulling and pressing a rod through that sounded more like a groaning train at this point. The first tumbler was already up.
"Fifty seconds."
The second tumbler tried to forcefully reset the first tumbler again, but it didn't fall, and she continued on. It took extra concentration to prevent the mechanism from causing a ruinous halt to this final sprint.
"Forty seconds."
The third tumbler was difficult, it was strangely heavy, but Willow's enhanced senses kept her from bending the pick in her hand to lift it.
"Thirty seconds."
The fourth tumbler was nothing at this point, just another click in the line. The fifth followed suit, and the lock gave way, spinning to undo its latch.
"Twenty seconds."
The box sprung open, revealing an amulet of jade and glass.
When the Allomancer looked up to the hourglass, however, she found it already empty. The Alchemist was looking at his watch, and then wrote down the final time on his note-pad, which already had a long list of notes. His tea-cup was empty and her tea-cup was cold. The faeries sat near-by, both looking a bit nervous at the outcome of the challenge.
"Ten minutes and forty-two seconds," said Mr. Caxton, setting his notepad down on the table with a noise that sounded like a slap to the face by enhanced senses. "Forty-two seconds over time."
Jakku began to tear up again, the guilt apparent her molten little eyes, "Willow, I'm-- I'm sorry. I wasted... I wasted a b-bunch of time... I didn't... I didn't mean to... I was really trying to help..."
The words echoed like they had been projected across a hushed auditorium. It was almost enough to break Willow's concentration, but she was able to cheat a conventional technique in lockpicking and limit the movement of the tumblers as she went across. She had five to work through, and each one was a painful process of focusing, pulling and pressing a rod through that sounded more like a groaning train at this point. The first tumbler was already up.
"Fifty seconds."
The second tumbler tried to forcefully reset the first tumbler again, but it didn't fall, and she continued on. It took extra concentration to prevent the mechanism from causing a ruinous halt to this final sprint.
"Forty seconds."
The third tumbler was difficult, it was strangely heavy, but Willow's enhanced senses kept her from bending the pick in her hand to lift it.
"Thirty seconds."
The fourth tumbler was nothing at this point, just another click in the line. The fifth followed suit, and the lock gave way, spinning to undo its latch.
"Twenty seconds."
The box sprung open, revealing an amulet of jade and glass.
When the Allomancer looked up to the hourglass, however, she found it already empty. The Alchemist was looking at his watch, and then wrote down the final time on his note-pad, which already had a long list of notes. His tea-cup was empty and her tea-cup was cold. The faeries sat near-by, both looking a bit nervous at the outcome of the challenge.
"Ten minutes and forty-two seconds," said Mr. Caxton, setting his notepad down on the table with a noise that sounded like a slap to the face by enhanced senses. "Forty-two seconds over time."
Jakku began to tear up again, the guilt apparent her molten little eyes, "Willow, I'm-- I'm sorry. I wasted... I wasted a b-bunch of time... I didn't... I didn't mean to... I was really trying to help..."
Re: [Safeholme] Under Advisement
Settling back, Willow stopped burning all of her metals save for Pewter. Focusing that much for so long made her brain feel like it was going to melt. She had failed, but on the bright side she could say she had successfully picked a lock. Sighing heavily to decompress, Jakku's words made their way to her desensitized ears. Bring Brass up to a low burn, Willow soothed the fairy's guilt.
"Hey, hey, it's okay Jakku. You have nothing to apologize for, little friend," Willow consoled as she hopped back onto her feet with an enunciated hyup. Patting at her clothing, the young teen straightened herself before approaching Mr. Caxton.
"I guess that's that," Willow chimed, her tone reasonably unperturbed for having just failed her time constraint. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Caxton. I may have failed the time limit, but I gained some valuable insight; I think."
"Hey, hey, it's okay Jakku. You have nothing to apologize for, little friend," Willow consoled as she hopped back onto her feet with an enunciated hyup. Patting at her clothing, the young teen straightened herself before approaching Mr. Caxton.
"I guess that's that," Willow chimed, her tone reasonably unperturbed for having just failed her time constraint. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Caxton. I may have failed the time limit, but I gained some valuable insight; I think."
Re: [Safeholme] Under Advisement
"Mr. Caxton, please," Jakku fluttered up to Percival, swift to Willow's defense. "It was my fault. I thought I could help, but I... I..."
The sprite struggled to not resort to tears, quivering.
"That's enough. Go rest in the catalyzer," Mr. Caxton shook his head, sending the sprite away. Jakku lingered long enough to look like she was going to defy him, but in the end she flew back into the brass boiler she had erupted from. Before long, she was back into the glass globe, a much larger, shapely Ifrit. Jakku pressed her face against the glass, still inconsolable.
The Alchemist said nothing to Willow yet, choosing instead to inspect the box she had opened. With a careful hand, he picked it up, checkes the outside, before setting it back down. The box was shut, locked with a key the man produced from his vest, tested for looseness, unlocked and opened again. His grim, taciturn demeanour relaxed, but only slightly as he withdrew the amulet. The jade-laden glass vial sparkled in the heavy light.
"Ms. Fairburn," started Percival, coming around the table to where she was standing. "Don't ever refer to yourself as a jock ever again."
He offered her the amulet, "You did not just think, you learned. More importantly, you rose from failure confidently with the true prize in hand. Knowledge. You are a mage."
The sprite struggled to not resort to tears, quivering.
"That's enough. Go rest in the catalyzer," Mr. Caxton shook his head, sending the sprite away. Jakku lingered long enough to look like she was going to defy him, but in the end she flew back into the brass boiler she had erupted from. Before long, she was back into the glass globe, a much larger, shapely Ifrit. Jakku pressed her face against the glass, still inconsolable.
The Alchemist said nothing to Willow yet, choosing instead to inspect the box she had opened. With a careful hand, he picked it up, checkes the outside, before setting it back down. The box was shut, locked with a key the man produced from his vest, tested for looseness, unlocked and opened again. His grim, taciturn demeanour relaxed, but only slightly as he withdrew the amulet. The jade-laden glass vial sparkled in the heavy light.
"Ms. Fairburn," started Percival, coming around the table to where she was standing. "Don't ever refer to yourself as a jock ever again."
He offered her the amulet, "You did not just think, you learned. More importantly, you rose from failure confidently with the true prize in hand. Knowledge. You are a mage."
Re: [Safeholme] Under Advisement
Long moments passed by as Willow looked at the amulet. It was lovely, and looked like it acted as a container of some sort. Yet she still held off reaching for it. For what it was worth, she had figured it had been a performance test rather than a results test back at the start. The captain of the Falcons used a similar method.
"Learn is a bit of a stretch," Willow moved the outstretched hand up to brush some stray hair out of her face. "I reacted. My first plan almost literally went up in flames; again, y'r'lright, Jakku. But I kept trying, fully expecting my second plan to fail as well. Plan three would have involved hanging from the ceiling, but that's not important. What is important is that I did learn something. I'm not a jock, I'm an athlete. I think best on my feet with a problem directly in front of me, and high stakes urging me on. Whether it be defeating a swamp hag in a hickie induced brain zone, or needing to pick a lock for the first time in under ten minutes with my potential future on the line. I'm the type of person who picks up a ball and throws it to figure out how much force is needed to get it from a desk out into a hallway."
Clasping her hands in front of her waist, Willow performed a somber bow.
"I am grateful for this lesson, Sir. I've been learning a lot recently, both about magic, and about how the words I use to describe myself can keep me down. If the offer for tea is still on the anvil I would be most pleased to chat with you for a time longer, but otherwise I shouldn't take up anymore of your time."
Willow had always liked that quote. She reached out a hand."What I care about more than points is effort."
"Learn is a bit of a stretch," Willow moved the outstretched hand up to brush some stray hair out of her face. "I reacted. My first plan almost literally went up in flames; again, y'r'lright, Jakku. But I kept trying, fully expecting my second plan to fail as well. Plan three would have involved hanging from the ceiling, but that's not important. What is important is that I did learn something. I'm not a jock, I'm an athlete. I think best on my feet with a problem directly in front of me, and high stakes urging me on. Whether it be defeating a swamp hag in a hickie induced brain zone, or needing to pick a lock for the first time in under ten minutes with my potential future on the line. I'm the type of person who picks up a ball and throws it to figure out how much force is needed to get it from a desk out into a hallway."
Clasping her hands in front of her waist, Willow performed a somber bow.
"I am grateful for this lesson, Sir. I've been learning a lot recently, both about magic, and about how the words I use to describe myself can keep me down. If the offer for tea is still on the anvil I would be most pleased to chat with you for a time longer, but otherwise I shouldn't take up anymore of your time."
Re: [Safeholme] Under Advisement
The jade amulet hung in a tantalizing manner, swaying to and fro like a pendulum counting seconds. Then, Mr. Caxton gently lobbed the necklace across the room, with Zippo receiving it on the other end. The fae, once he recovered, hovered over to the place where it came and placed it back on the hook.
It was quick and it was brief, but Mr. Caxton flashed a little, approving smile.
"I've enjoyed the distraction, Ms. Fairburn," said Percival, dismissing her now and back to his normal, grim mood, "but I must get back to work. Very few hours these days. I've an arrangement in two, a class in fourteen and several pans in the fire that will become hazardous in nine if I don't manage my time."
Almost as if the workshop could feel his intent, the machines and pipes began to churn to life. A powerful energy permeated the space, like a reactor coming online.
"But," he added, donning his goggles and gathering his tools, "should you need anything, Ms. Athelete, always feel free to knock."
It was quick and it was brief, but Mr. Caxton flashed a little, approving smile.
"I've enjoyed the distraction, Ms. Fairburn," said Percival, dismissing her now and back to his normal, grim mood, "but I must get back to work. Very few hours these days. I've an arrangement in two, a class in fourteen and several pans in the fire that will become hazardous in nine if I don't manage my time."
Almost as if the workshop could feel his intent, the machines and pipes began to churn to life. A powerful energy permeated the space, like a reactor coming online.
"But," he added, donning his goggles and gathering his tools, "should you need anything, Ms. Athelete, always feel free to knock."