[Safeholme] A Student Renewed

[Mr. Blackbird Lore]

A confused frown stuck on Johanns face. No retort? Was she okay?

“No. We um…” he looked to Drysi for reassurance, then tried again. “We want to ta- to ta- tttt—“ Johann finally gave up and gestured with both arms that Drysi should explain their presence.

[Kokuten]

"We're here to talk, Laframboise, so don't bully Johann," asserted Drysi, following the cue from necromancer. At the very least she could support him, having lit the fire so suddenly.

"I don't bully Johann," Manon answered defensively.

"I beg to differ," Drysi pushed her glasses up.

"You don't say," Manon answered naturally, which seemed to get under the triclop's skin. "Now now, Drysi, you're starting to get steamed, you'll be Wetsi before long. Or Sogsi."

"Manon..."

"At least you won't be Thirsi."

"SIDEBAR," the triclops raised her hands in a time out motion. "We're not here for jokes. We're here to help Johann, in a way only you can. He has a bunch of spells that require a lot of power and you always carried around a bunch of powerful trinkets. One of them might help him practice, so that he can master his art."

The topic seemed to make Manon cagey and distant again.

"I can't perform magic anymore. Not since I lost my nose and my mask," The clown only looked at Johann for a moment, before averting her gaze, "I've only got a couple tricks these days, and the best one is producing a bike horn that doesn't speak."

On cue, the bike horn appeared in her hand, a small, brass toy. It appeared simple in make, but something about it echoed deeply in their senses.

[Mr. Blackbird Lore]

Gratitude was plain on the necromancer’s face after Drysi rose to his defense. And there was almost certainly an eye roll at Manon’s quips. But Johann was glad to be returning to familiar territory, even if it was all smothered by the wet blanket of Manon’s depression.

“Wait… where did your nose go?” It hadn’t vanished after use in the woods. It had…

Johann gasped, realizing what he had done. “I… I maddddde it a cork… Well! We can just get it…” except they couldn’t. It had been rent from the boy as easily as he might pluck a leaf from a tree.

“Can’t you just… like resummmmmmon it?” Desperation was edging into his voice, a precursor to panic. I ruined her magic! I’m so stupid! No be calm, relax, you can fix this. And then he turned off his brain before the internal argument could reach its logical conclusion.

But he knew the truth, and the anxiety was building.

[Kokuten]

The hallway became an uncomfortable, tight space as the anxiety began to synchronize between both Johann and Drysi. Like the necromancer, the druid-in-training began to seize up, eyes widening, arms curling in, the shoulder strap of the bookbag wrenched into a strange shape. Quickly, Drysi found the floor as she began mouthing silent words.

It's my fault. It's my fault.

Wordlessly, Manon watched them both, seemingly content to let them stew in their guilt and silence. The moment lasted for longer than was comfortable, and the occasional student walked by, eyes drawn by the discomfort. They didn't distract Manon, though, something was playing in her mind and she raised her arm.

Honk! She squeezed the horn in their faces, especially Johann's.

"Don't make that face, mes petits oiseaux! Tu vas me briser le coeur!" Manon laughed, smiling wide as she bounced on to one foot, arms outstretched. "I have my arms, I am limber, I am young and I am very pretty. Pas comme s'il le remarquerait, n'est-ce pas?"

She jabbed the triclops in the ribs, as if Drysi knew what Manon was saying. The triclops was still trying to master herself, but Manon was throwing her off. "What is a nose between amis, non? We were doing something very brave, and sometimes you must make sacrifices to be courageous."

"But... your magic..." Drysi sputtered, rubbing her rib.

"My magic did not depart with my nose, it departed with my mask, and we all know who is responsible for that," corrected Manon, with the austerity of a parodical school-teacher, and in her other hand she produced the shattered the remains of her masque. The jagged, white pieces lay piled together in a strange magnetism that held them in place. Johann could feel the a similar wavelength of his necromantic magic wafting from them. The pale pieces were reminiscent of a lich's death mask, legendary artifacts meant to channel the endless power of people who became one with their magic after death.

Manon winked at them, "I can still feel the magic when I hold this horn, but it does not come when I ask. I'd offer it to you, but I don't know how much use it would be."

[Mr. Blackbird Lore]

Honk! Johann jumped, hands raised to shield himself from... well, a clown. He immediately felt stupid. He felt much stupider when Manon launched into a French tirade as if he were in on the joke. It was this kind of behavior, just assuming he was part of her little performances, that really bothered him. Especially when he was the butt of the joke. Now, he couldn't even tell.

The girls permitted him time to process these feelings as they discussed the problem at hand. "Isn't proffffessor Caxttttton a a a... a alchemist?" His jaw flexed in irritation, as if a proper stretch would be enough to eliminate his stutter. "Maybe he knows how to fix it. Your..." He waved a hand, like someone flipping yellow pages for a name. "Deine Quelle. Your mask."

[Kokuten]

The name of the Alchemist seemed to rob Manon of her spirit, as if Johann had jabbed her in the ribs like she had jabbed Drysi. Her hands came to clasp the horn that she had used to jar them out of their stupor. Again she gave it a squeeze, but it made no sound this time.

Johann's suggestion had some glimmer of hope in her eyes, something she hadn't considered, but the silent horn killed the fire before she could seize on it.

"Monsieur Caxton gave me this horn," she confided quietly, "He told me it would reveal to me a lesson, but all it does is make me unhappy. A little curse, maybe? Je suis peut-être maudit, non?"

She looked at the mask, the source that the young man had spoken of, a shattered remnant of what she was. They could see she was considering the necromancer's words, but then she became gloomy again. "I don't think ... I... Monsieur Caxton frightens me. I do not think I could go talk to him by myself."

Manon fidgeted silently with the brass instrument, embarrassment evident on her face with the admission.

[Mr. Blackbird Lore]

So sad. He had never thought Manon could be so sad. It unsettled the young necromancer and spurred him to her defense.

“Then I will.” He would regret those words later, but in the moment he felt ready to take on ALL the teachers at the same time.

“They say he’s always up working. Let’s go now.”

[Kokuten]

Suddenly, now Manon was on the defensive. She looked like she was about to bolt back into her room, but was arrested by the earnest look in Johann's eyes. Drysi did not sign up for this, and was about to say something before Diedre stormed up to the doorway and shoved her roommate right into the two of them.

"Oi, I cannae concentrate with all this talkin'!" groaned the geomancer, "If ye gunna throw yerselves to the mad scientist, see if he'll give up the answer to what it takes to balance an alchemical formula that is charged by entropy."

SLAM! Diedre slammed the door, leaving the three of them out in the hall. All they had now were just awkward looks and one way forward.

Manon with a bit of trepidation, nodded her head and took the brave young man's hand, still holding the horn close to her chest. The trip down to the first floor would have been a long, silent one; had Drysi not spent it recounting all of the rumors that circulated Mr. Caxton's existence at the school.

They say he used his an arm in an experiment to make a Philosopher's Stone!

Students who fail his class get turned into ingredients!

He's a golem that feeds on the dreams of slumbering students, that's why he's the RA!

Mr. Flynn owes some sort of debt to the Occultus, and Mr. Caxton is here to ensure he pays due! He's a mobster. A Mobster!

He's actually five different people on campus that look the same from some failed cloning experiment!

Everyone who visits his lab is subject to some cruel test, and if they fail, they're EXPELLED!

The triclops was a nervous wreck by the time they got to the first floor, and refused to the leave the stairwell to go down the hall. Manon, to her credit, didn't seem bothered by the stories, but she may have perpetrated some of them. She refused to let go of Johann's hand as they went, anxious and quiet.

They were in sight of the door, and Drysi watched them approach. Just as they were close enough to knock, a pair of orange and silver faeries burst the door open.

"I'm JAKKU!" shouted the fiery faerie, leaning out with her arm splayed, holding on to her counterpart.

"I'm Zippo," greeted the snowy faerie, leaning the other way, dispirited.

"No! No no no! That's not it, you have to--," Jakku began to reprimand the frost fae on what seemed to be his poor performance in an act, before she realized that they had accidentally introduced themselves, "-- oh! Hello! I'm Jakku."

"I'm ZIPPO!"

"He he he! Not now!"

[Mr. Blackbird Lore]

Just go right up and knock once. A solid knock. Just one. Then wait. Be patient, he's a slow, old alchemist. And he probably doesn't--

"Oh!" The necromancer visibly startled as the door flung open and revealed Mr. Caxton's sprites. The first thing he could think to say was, "Shouldn't you-" he pointed to Jakku, "-be Zippo?" Before anyone could answer, he tried to clear the air with the wave of a pale arm. "N-no, nevermind. We're here to see Mr. Caxton."

A swell of relief crashed over Johann when he made his request without a stutter. Better enjoy it while it lasts; it would probably be the last perfect sentence he uttered this evening.

[Kokuten]

"Mr. Caxton sure is popular," giggled Jakku.

"Mr. Caxton may not want to talk to them," Zippo answered with cold coutenance, "He's busy."

This seemed so incredulous to the other fairy that she burst into a fit of laughter. The antics seemed to soften the mood, and Manon's movements became a bit less stiff. She didn't let go of the boy's hand, though, the grip only more iron as Zippo moved to open the door.

"Don't be silly," smiled Jakku, "Mr. Caxton always makes time for the students, he loves the company."

"If you say so."

"I do!"

The fire fae bumpered the frost fae a couple times and the two of them pulled the door in completely.

Mr. Caxton's workshop was, as always, an alchemist's paradise. Knowledge lined the walls and mystery bulwarked its struts with gadgets, vials and poultices. At the center of the wide space, was a skeletal frame of metal, like a suit of armor. Hung from the ceiling near it was a massive rifle, or a small cannon, and on the same gantry was large, complex apeture with vials. Among it all stood the Alchemist himself, draped in his leathers and working on a set connections between the weapon and the armor.

A low hum emanated through the workshop, like a steady battery.

"Mr. Caxton, a pair of students would like to speak with you," cheerily announced Jakku.

The Alchemist didn't seem to notice, and instead continued to nurse the connectors. Silence persisted until the man's voice broke the song of the steady hum.

"Come in. What do you need?"

Manon looked at Johann, before paling at the sight of the Alchemist. Her broad smile returned for a moment, before the nerves shook it from her. Again, she looked to Johann, sheepish at her own sheepishness.