Willow took a steadying breath as she stared at the door in front of her. All day she had been preparing herself mentally for this, and in theory it should be the easiest part. Emphasis on in theory. She had spoken with Mr. Flynn first thing in the morning, and had the gut wrenching conversation that she’d been dreading since her sit down with Miss Sumedha. Should this meeting go the way she hoped, then Mr. Flynn would no longer be her advisor and mentor. With a grumble and a huff, Willow kicked one foot against another as she couldn’t quite bring herself to raise her hand and knock.
While not exactly worried about being turned down, after all she’d still be able to study with Mr. Flynn, but she was certainly intimidated. All of Mr. Flynn’s friends were intimidating. Her hand rose to knock, but once again fell back to her side. Throwing her head back and grimacing, Willow rapped a fist against the side of her head in order to both physically and mentally beat herself up for dragging her feet. She couldn’t help but wonder why she was having such a hard time with this. If only she’d told Drysi first. Drysi would have been happy to needle her until she finally knocked.
“Grr, I’ll just do what I do best and stop thinking,” Willow grumbled before taking a deep breath, stepping forward, and knocking on the door of Mr. Caxton.
[Safeholme] Under Advisement
Re: [Safeholme] Under Advisement
The R.A.'s door always had a certain intimidating air to it, especially knowing that behind it lay an adult of rumored ill-temper. As Willow's fingers rapped on the door's wood, she felt just the barest resistance above the surface. The letters 'RA', which always showed with a mild glow, faded away, and then something seemed to shift in the wall.
Hiss! Clack! Shunk! The opening door cracked a thin line of darkness that exuded a sharp, crisp haze of white that left Willow's face cold. From its edge poked out the head of a small creature, a silvery, icy fae creature. He was the size of a forest sprite, with a head dressed in a mane of icy shards. His two large, black eyes stared at her from the safety of the other side of the door.
"Hello," said the sprite, almost mumbling. The greeting was short, curt, and curious. Then, his eyes narrowed. "Konichiwa."
For some reason, that correction seemed to conjure a disappointed look at the floor. "Oh... No, that's not right."
Every time he looked back at Willow, he became more and more embarrassed, becoming more and more blue in the face. "I... Iuhm... Are you... Are you here to see Percival Caxton? Uhm... Mr. Percival Caxton?"
As the haze began rest to the floor, Willow could pick up on the sound of a machine-like hum and bubbling liquids emanating from inside.
Hiss! Clack! Shunk! The opening door cracked a thin line of darkness that exuded a sharp, crisp haze of white that left Willow's face cold. From its edge poked out the head of a small creature, a silvery, icy fae creature. He was the size of a forest sprite, with a head dressed in a mane of icy shards. His two large, black eyes stared at her from the safety of the other side of the door.
"Hello," said the sprite, almost mumbling. The greeting was short, curt, and curious. Then, his eyes narrowed. "Konichiwa."
For some reason, that correction seemed to conjure a disappointed look at the floor. "Oh... No, that's not right."
Every time he looked back at Willow, he became more and more embarrassed, becoming more and more blue in the face. "I... Iuhm... Are you... Are you here to see Percival Caxton? Uhm... Mr. Percival Caxton?"
As the haze began rest to the floor, Willow could pick up on the sound of a machine-like hum and bubbling liquids emanating from inside.
Re: [Safeholme] Under Advisement
Willow's face ran through a few different emotions as she watched the fey do it's bit. Surprise, confusion, amusement, and a bit of pity. Once she had the gist of how the spirit conducted itself, she tried to see over it and through the opening in the door. Once again she started to doubt whether she was making the right choice. After all, the R.A. was the source of a lot of gossip at Safeholme, had been missing for years, and openly feuded with Mr. Flynn. He appeared stern like Flynn, but seemed colder than the Irishman. This was important though. Mr. Caxton was intelligent, and had capabilities she could capitalize on if she had him as an advisor and mentor. Premier among them being the skills that would allow her to fully utilize her allomancy. She knew her own weaknesses, and Mr. Caxton seemed well suited to helping her with her academics.
"Yes, I am," Willow affirmed to the fey. "Is he busy right now? If need be I can wait."
"Yes, I am," Willow affirmed to the fey. "Is he busy right now? If need be I can wait."
Re: [Safeholme] Under Advisement
The ice sprite considered Willow, and her request, before shaking his head.
"Gomenesai. No... Sorry, but Mr. Caxton is in the middle of some trials and isn't taking guests at the moment," he began, before another voice cut him off.
"Let her in, Zippo."
The familiar drone of Mr. Caxton rose from the din behind the door, to the apparent alarm of Zippo. "She's one of Mr. Flynn's apprentices."
This change in the dynamic seemed to rattle the fae, and he began to look back and forth. His sharp, angular wings fluttered a fresh wave of frost on the door frame.
"I think... That means you can come inside. Follow me." Zippo opened the door to let her in, before adding, "Please."
The interior was much larger than it should have been for the building they were in. There was a vast, layered collection of books, as if the walls were made of them. It was a library built on the skeleton of a laboratory, its bones a system of brass and glass pipes, its organs a series of arcane machines. Throughout this wide space were tables that sported a thorough collection of equipment, vials, jars, alembics, samples and the occasional strange artifact. A hydroponics garden traced around the far wall, filled with colorful and exotic plants.
At the center of it all, was Percival Bredon Caxton, the Alchemist. He wore a thick leather apron, a set of magnifying goggles, and a hardy looking glove. Pausing his work, he set a small marble down on what looked like a runic anvil, and put aside a couple of tools.
Behind him, in a large, glass sphere, was a fae woman. She was a blazing, orange color from head to toe, the image of fire with a figure that rivaled that of Ms. Caoranach. The fiery fae regarded Willow with a sweet smile and a wave, blinking molten eyes. There was a sensation of welcoming warmth.
Percival pushed his goggles up, and gave Willow a look that made the warmth disappear.
"Ms. Fairburn."
"Gomenesai. No... Sorry, but Mr. Caxton is in the middle of some trials and isn't taking guests at the moment," he began, before another voice cut him off.
"Let her in, Zippo."
The familiar drone of Mr. Caxton rose from the din behind the door, to the apparent alarm of Zippo. "She's one of Mr. Flynn's apprentices."
This change in the dynamic seemed to rattle the fae, and he began to look back and forth. His sharp, angular wings fluttered a fresh wave of frost on the door frame.
"I think... That means you can come inside. Follow me." Zippo opened the door to let her in, before adding, "Please."
The interior was much larger than it should have been for the building they were in. There was a vast, layered collection of books, as if the walls were made of them. It was a library built on the skeleton of a laboratory, its bones a system of brass and glass pipes, its organs a series of arcane machines. Throughout this wide space were tables that sported a thorough collection of equipment, vials, jars, alembics, samples and the occasional strange artifact. A hydroponics garden traced around the far wall, filled with colorful and exotic plants.
At the center of it all, was Percival Bredon Caxton, the Alchemist. He wore a thick leather apron, a set of magnifying goggles, and a hardy looking glove. Pausing his work, he set a small marble down on what looked like a runic anvil, and put aside a couple of tools.
Behind him, in a large, glass sphere, was a fae woman. She was a blazing, orange color from head to toe, the image of fire with a figure that rivaled that of Ms. Caoranach. The fiery fae regarded Willow with a sweet smile and a wave, blinking molten eyes. There was a sensation of welcoming warmth.
Percival pushed his goggles up, and gave Willow a look that made the warmth disappear.
"Ms. Fairburn."
Re: [Safeholme] Under Advisement
Gulp
The unassuming Zippo had left her unprepared for how much more imposing this situation would actually turn out to be. On its own the lab seemed endearing in an odd sort of way. It was more or less what she imagined when she thought of a lab. She even gave the flame spirit a slight return wave as she wondered what the fey was like, but any cordial niceties were immediately quashed once Mr. Caxton shifted his gaze towards her. The last time she'd been the focus of that look she had been sneaking out of the dorms to save Drysi. She had been fairly certain he knew something, but had let her go despite her flimsy excuse. So perhaps he really did have a soft side.
Though, if he did, it was well hidden. Willow cleared her throat, and secretly wondered whether she should have approached Miss Smith as a potential advisor instead. Tensing her jaw, the Brit doubled her resolve. Having dwelled on the matter all week, Willow had every intention of approaching Miss Smith for additional training to better hone her strengths, but Mr. Caxton could help build up her weaknesses. This was about making herself the best mage she could be, so she needed to pursue that goal with a steadfast determination as strong as any of the metals she consumed.
Steeling herself, Willow met Mr. Caxton's gaze.
"Mr. Caxton," Willow returned the terse greeting. "I was wondering if I could have a moment of your time."
The unassuming Zippo had left her unprepared for how much more imposing this situation would actually turn out to be. On its own the lab seemed endearing in an odd sort of way. It was more or less what she imagined when she thought of a lab. She even gave the flame spirit a slight return wave as she wondered what the fey was like, but any cordial niceties were immediately quashed once Mr. Caxton shifted his gaze towards her. The last time she'd been the focus of that look she had been sneaking out of the dorms to save Drysi. She had been fairly certain he knew something, but had let her go despite her flimsy excuse. So perhaps he really did have a soft side.
Though, if he did, it was well hidden. Willow cleared her throat, and secretly wondered whether she should have approached Miss Smith as a potential advisor instead. Tensing her jaw, the Brit doubled her resolve. Having dwelled on the matter all week, Willow had every intention of approaching Miss Smith for additional training to better hone her strengths, but Mr. Caxton could help build up her weaknesses. This was about making herself the best mage she could be, so she needed to pursue that goal with a steadfast determination as strong as any of the metals she consumed.
Steeling herself, Willow met Mr. Caxton's gaze.
"Mr. Caxton," Willow returned the terse greeting. "I was wondering if I could have a moment of your time."
Re: [Safeholme] Under Advisement
The Alchemist of Safeholme inclined his head to look down more fully upon the student that had entered his private domain of learning to demand an audience. At first glance, Percival Caxton was a weak, wiry, frail man with an apparent disability that added to a grim countenance that spoke of many harsh years. Unlike Ruarc Flynn, he looked like he had no beating heart of a beast, no budding strength of the wild, not even the energy of a man his age. Yet, his sage colored eyes glowed with a strange depth, his frame was wrapped in an aura that spoke of the lightest touch that carried the force of mountains.
Willow felt the weight of judgement wash over her, as her words were considered.
"Jakku. Could you warm the tea, if you please."
The voluptuous, orange fae whipped around and nodded her head before taking on a bright glow as her form dripped through into a pipe that carried her energy along to another container. This bulbous glass figure pushed the fae's ether to another, brass container with a small hatch that burst open to reveal a small sprite full of fiery vim and vigor, though just as big as Zippo.
"One 'TEA' coming right up!" Jakku announced with zest as she zipped off to the other end of the room, planting her small form onto a metallic beanbag that rested under a teapot. She curled up before assuming a fiery glow.
Percival reached over to a couple of vials on rack and thumbed a cork off of each. Carefully he poured the contents of one onto the floor, as the liquid fell, it filled out the shape of a glass stool. Then, he did the same for the other vial, putting a glass stool on the other side of the anvil.
"Please, sit," offered the Alchemist, as he himself sat one of the stools, and Zippo sat on the man's shoulder, "You must have something important to be putting on your best, St. Bernadette's Girls Academy face."
Willow felt the weight of judgement wash over her, as her words were considered.
"Jakku. Could you warm the tea, if you please."
The voluptuous, orange fae whipped around and nodded her head before taking on a bright glow as her form dripped through into a pipe that carried her energy along to another container. This bulbous glass figure pushed the fae's ether to another, brass container with a small hatch that burst open to reveal a small sprite full of fiery vim and vigor, though just as big as Zippo.
"One 'TEA' coming right up!" Jakku announced with zest as she zipped off to the other end of the room, planting her small form onto a metallic beanbag that rested under a teapot. She curled up before assuming a fiery glow.
Percival reached over to a couple of vials on rack and thumbed a cork off of each. Carefully he poured the contents of one onto the floor, as the liquid fell, it filled out the shape of a glass stool. Then, he did the same for the other vial, putting a glass stool on the other side of the anvil.
"Please, sit," offered the Alchemist, as he himself sat one of the stools, and Zippo sat on the man's shoulder, "You must have something important to be putting on your best, St. Bernadette's Girls Academy face."
Re: [Safeholme] Under Advisement
Willow's poker face slipped as her eyes shown with amazement and disbelief that the ifrit in the tank was actually Jakku, and further still when Mr. Caxton made stools appear from simple vials. Once more the thought that she was in over her head began to edge into her mind, but she was quicker to dispel the negativity this time. Letting her face rest and settle into calm neutrality, Willow accepted the invitation to sit with a deferential bow of her head. This wasn't the mask she'd donned in Sumedha's office, but rather a genuine expression of respect. She was here requesting a boon, not avoiding trouble.
"Thank you, Sir, but this face is my own; not the Academy's," Willow explained as she sat down, marveling once more at the mystical stool. "I do however have something to discuss with you. I talked it over with Mr. Flynn this morning, and I feel that I need to... reorient myself... so that I might better use my time here at Safeholme."
Breathing deep, Willow spoke slowly. More than anything for her own sake, as she did not want to be stammering and stumbling over her own words as she pushed forward.
"I believe I need to find a better advisor... No, that's not right... I believe I need to find an advisor who can better assist me with my shortcomings. I'm... still new to all of this, and even now I can't help but wonder if I'm making the right call, but I need to try. So, Mr. Caxton, I would like to request that you be my advisor."
"Thank you, Sir, but this face is my own; not the Academy's," Willow explained as she sat down, marveling once more at the mystical stool. "I do however have something to discuss with you. I talked it over with Mr. Flynn this morning, and I feel that I need to... reorient myself... so that I might better use my time here at Safeholme."
Breathing deep, Willow spoke slowly. More than anything for her own sake, as she did not want to be stammering and stumbling over her own words as she pushed forward.
"I believe I need to find a better advisor... No, that's not right... I believe I need to find an advisor who can better assist me with my shortcomings. I'm... still new to all of this, and even now I can't help but wonder if I'm making the right call, but I need to try. So, Mr. Caxton, I would like to request that you be my advisor."
Re: [Safeholme] Under Advisement
Willow's potential new advisor quirked his brow.
There was a pregnant silence that followed the request. Zippo sat quietly and patiently, kicking his feet and trading glances between the two them, as if he didn't quite understand. Mr. Caxton continued to say nothing, instead bringing his gloved hand up to the shoulder fae, who automatically grabbed at the fingertips to help pull it off. Zippo flew the glove over to a table, came back just in time for the goggles to come off and then flew those briskly into a cubby.
As Zippo landed back on his perch and began to get comfortable again, Percival finally answered.
"Ms. Fairburn, what is it you're hoping to learn from me?"
There was a pregnant silence that followed the request. Zippo sat quietly and patiently, kicking his feet and trading glances between the two them, as if he didn't quite understand. Mr. Caxton continued to say nothing, instead bringing his gloved hand up to the shoulder fae, who automatically grabbed at the fingertips to help pull it off. Zippo flew the glove over to a table, came back just in time for the goggles to come off and then flew those briskly into a cubby.
As Zippo landed back on his perch and began to get comfortable again, Percival finally answered.
"Ms. Fairburn, what is it you're hoping to learn from me?"
Re: [Safeholme] Under Advisement
Just as she feared, Willow needed to explain herself. She stared at her lap for a good long while considering how to answer. The main thing she was going off of was that Mr. Flynn complimented Mr. Caxton's intelligence and ingenuity, and coupled with what Willow knew about alchemy from video games she felt confident in concluding that he was indeed an intelligent man.
"I'm... a jock," Willow responded, almost as a confession. "I know what my strengths are, and when push comes to shove, well, I push and I shove, and punch, and kick. The only way I really know how to handle things is by hitting them head on. But, I'm learning that my magic requires more than that. Sure I can punch and kick better, but I feel very inefficient. To say nothing about not even knowing all of the metals I'm capable of utilizing. As far as the metals are concerned, that seems like a chemistry, or alchemistry, problem."
Silence hung in the air once more as Willow stopped herself from rambling.
"I would say the main thing I'm looking to learn is how to fully utilize my magic, through unlocking the unknown metals. Secondary would be improving my, uh, book smarts? My ability to put more thought behind my punches, and applying the force more appropriately. I understand if you choose to turn me down, Sir. All I would ask would be some extra course material on alchemy, to help me along. As a teacher to a student, if not as an advisor."
"I'm... a jock," Willow responded, almost as a confession. "I know what my strengths are, and when push comes to shove, well, I push and I shove, and punch, and kick. The only way I really know how to handle things is by hitting them head on. But, I'm learning that my magic requires more than that. Sure I can punch and kick better, but I feel very inefficient. To say nothing about not even knowing all of the metals I'm capable of utilizing. As far as the metals are concerned, that seems like a chemistry, or alchemistry, problem."
Silence hung in the air once more as Willow stopped herself from rambling.
"I would say the main thing I'm looking to learn is how to fully utilize my magic, through unlocking the unknown metals. Secondary would be improving my, uh, book smarts? My ability to put more thought behind my punches, and applying the force more appropriately. I understand if you choose to turn me down, Sir. All I would ask would be some extra course material on alchemy, to help me along. As a teacher to a student, if not as an advisor."
Re: [Safeholme] Under Advisement
Mr. Caxton did not appear convinced.
In the harsh light of the center workspace he cut a grim figure, finger tapping on the surface of the anvil, like it were a table between them. There were thoughts clearly playing in his mind, as he spoke them wordlessly through faint movements of the lips.
The kettle began to sing, and Jakku rolled off her metal bean-bag.
"Done!" She announced triumphantly, flitting over to a cupboard to pull out tea-cups one at a time. The Alchemist had already stood to join her, leaving Willow by herself at the anvil. There was only the marble sphere he had been working on before, the size of a small coin.
"Ms. Fairburn, you are correct. Magic does require more than just that. This great work we make our own requires great focus. Great concentration. Great knowledge," Mr. Caxton poured the tea into a pair of flower-adorned cups that rested on little blue saucers. "Jocks are not mages. Jocks do not think. Jocks are the antithesis of what belong at this school."
He was already back over at the anvil, his tarnished oxfords barely making a sound as he carried himself, the clatter of the saucers and cups on the table next to where they sat was much louder. Instead of sitting, he continued to walk to another end of the chamber, opening a small door and removing an amulet from a hook. From another chest he pulled out a box with a lock on it and sealed the trinket inside. "If you are indeed a jock, Ms. Fairburn, you do not belong here."
The locked box was now sitting on the anvil in front of her, and the Alchemist was now walking to another part of the lab. Jakku, for her part, was following him anxiously, ignorant of the man's intentions, occasionally tossing worried glances back at Willow. "Safeholme teaches those who can learn. Those who can learn. Not just read a book, but turn that book into thought, into memory, into knowledge. Translating common movements into thought, which become reactions. Tacit understanding of the inborn energies that make abilities exceptional. Exploiting every facet of what one is capable of to truly know oneself. This is what it means to be a mage."
Suddenly, clattering down next to the box was a series of vials and some thin rods. There were eight vials, each marked with a different label: Steel, Iron, Tin, Pewter, Bronze, Copper, Zinc, and Brass. Mr. Caxton leaned down under the table and plucked out an hourglass.
"Prove to me you can think, Ms. Fairburn, and I will consider your request," ordered the Alchemist, "Open the box without damaging it or its contents. You have a generous ten minutes."
The hourglass made a loud thunk as it was turned to start the time. "Do not waste them."
In the harsh light of the center workspace he cut a grim figure, finger tapping on the surface of the anvil, like it were a table between them. There were thoughts clearly playing in his mind, as he spoke them wordlessly through faint movements of the lips.
The kettle began to sing, and Jakku rolled off her metal bean-bag.
"Done!" She announced triumphantly, flitting over to a cupboard to pull out tea-cups one at a time. The Alchemist had already stood to join her, leaving Willow by herself at the anvil. There was only the marble sphere he had been working on before, the size of a small coin.
"Ms. Fairburn, you are correct. Magic does require more than just that. This great work we make our own requires great focus. Great concentration. Great knowledge," Mr. Caxton poured the tea into a pair of flower-adorned cups that rested on little blue saucers. "Jocks are not mages. Jocks do not think. Jocks are the antithesis of what belong at this school."
He was already back over at the anvil, his tarnished oxfords barely making a sound as he carried himself, the clatter of the saucers and cups on the table next to where they sat was much louder. Instead of sitting, he continued to walk to another end of the chamber, opening a small door and removing an amulet from a hook. From another chest he pulled out a box with a lock on it and sealed the trinket inside. "If you are indeed a jock, Ms. Fairburn, you do not belong here."
The locked box was now sitting on the anvil in front of her, and the Alchemist was now walking to another part of the lab. Jakku, for her part, was following him anxiously, ignorant of the man's intentions, occasionally tossing worried glances back at Willow. "Safeholme teaches those who can learn. Those who can learn. Not just read a book, but turn that book into thought, into memory, into knowledge. Translating common movements into thought, which become reactions. Tacit understanding of the inborn energies that make abilities exceptional. Exploiting every facet of what one is capable of to truly know oneself. This is what it means to be a mage."
Suddenly, clattering down next to the box was a series of vials and some thin rods. There were eight vials, each marked with a different label: Steel, Iron, Tin, Pewter, Bronze, Copper, Zinc, and Brass. Mr. Caxton leaned down under the table and plucked out an hourglass.
"Prove to me you can think, Ms. Fairburn, and I will consider your request," ordered the Alchemist, "Open the box without damaging it or its contents. You have a generous ten minutes."
The hourglass made a loud thunk as it was turned to start the time. "Do not waste them."