[The Farm] Under Advisement, Part 2

[Straken]

"Fine tuning my learning, Ma'am. Proper mentorship can really define a student. Drysi will really shine as Mr. Flynn's apprentice, but I was only really benefitting from learning good study habits and some primo snacks. The decision to try and find a different mentor has been a tough one for me, but I would be doing myself a disservice if I didn't do everything I could to go above and beyond to be the best I could be. While I greatly enjoy your class, I feel I would benefit from a one-on-one relationship that can focus on my specific talents. And I just feel that somethings can't be properly learned in a classroom, and need to be learned by doing."

Willow's head was tilted back and she was staring upward as she took her time speaking. When playing Dungeons and Dragons she always played either a fighter or a barbarian specifically to avoid needing to make persuasion checks, so she was doing her best to not stumble over herself while still sounding convincing.

[Mr. Blackbird Lore]

Jane finished her drink while Willow rambled. “That’s some real posh talk. Go bove n beyond! Be the best ye can be!” Her smile was sardonic. “Kid, ye ain’t gotta play pretty word games here. Shoot straight. Say what ye mean.”

Jane sucked her cigarette down while she waited, noting that it was dangerously close to its end. Her relaxation was nearing an end and she desperately needed a shower. Time to wrap this up.

[Straken]

"Even after discovering I had magic, I used it to punch and kick better. I'm a mundane mage, and I'm proud of my grounded approach to matters. I want to continue improving my inherent skills as well as my new ones, and I want you to be the one to show me the ropes. I don't need you to teach me how to use magic, I just need you to teach me HOW to use my magic."

"Couple months back, me and the others were out in the woods at night when we shouldn't have been, and... we were attacked, and I was scared, and I'm ashamed of how I reacted," Willow's brow furrowed as she just started speaking without thinking, and her hands clenched into fists in her lap. "I refuse to ever feel that way again, and if any cunt feels like threatening my friends again I won't be cowering; I'll be in their face. Punching it."

[Mr. Blackbird Lore]

Jane was grinding out her cigarette butt when Willow uttered the word, "cunt." The professor was so surprised she barked a laugh, and stood up. "Alright, kid. C'mon."

She descended the porch steps and headed down the drive, boots crunching on gravel. After the girl had caught up, Jane began. "Yer right kid, ye need a teacher. And if we're shootin straight- and I always shoot straight- I ain't the teacher ye need." She was silent a moment. "But the kinda teacher ye need ain't round. So here's my offer: ye come round here three days a week. Tuesdays n Thursdays after class. An I wanna see ye first thing on Sunday." She glanced down at Willow. "And I mean first thing. If I open my eyes and ye ain't holding a cup o coffee next to my bed, we're gonna have a problem. We clear?"

They had reached the point where the gravel gave way to dirt. Jane stopped and posted her hands on her hips. "Now git. We'll talk shop later. But right now, yer trespassin on my quiet time. Kennit?"

[Straken]

Dutifully following behind, Willow found herself practically beaming when Miss Smith gave affirmation to her request. While it wasn't as one-hundred percent as she might have hoped, she acknowledged that it was a big request. That said, the terms were set, and Willow could see the foot she stood on. She could do this. She would do this.

"Ma'am, yes ma'am!" Willow said with exuberance, catching herself and holding back a salute. "And... sorry again about disturbing you, Miss Smith. Have a pleasant evening!"

With that Willow made her way the rest of the distance down the drive, resisting the urge to skip. Once she was off Jane's property and around the corner, the teen began to jog. Then she began to sprint. Then she drank a small vial of metal and began to burn Pewter. It was late afternoon on Friday, so she'd take the day tomorrow to rest up. But...

~~~

First thing on Sunday

Willow had narrowly avoided hitting snooze on her phone alarm. Even having turned in astoundingly early, her body was almost physically opposed to being up by three in morning. She had sat groggy upright in bed while she had willed herself awake. There was work to do, and first things first she needed to get a cup of coffee for Miss Smith. The initial thought was to jump into town and find an all night café to pick up a cup to go. Instead, she'd opt for the simpler option.

With a subdued rap tap tap Willow knocked on the cottage door of Mr. Flynn's cottage. Dressed in a warm hoody with a tshirt underneath, another pair of denim, and her running shoes, she hugged herself against faint chill of the early morning air. It was rather early, even for her instructor, so she was relieved to hear the soft aruff ruff huff on the other side of the heavy door. The sturdy lock turned, and at first with a crack the door opened to reveal a drowsy Irishman and an equally drowsy bundle of poofy fur at his feet.

"Willow? What're you doin' 'er' at this hour?" the man asked, his words loose and his voice rough.

"I need to borrow a travel mug... oh, and some coffee... uh... please?" Willow responded.

About ten minutes later Willow had a travel mug of coffee gripped firmly in her hands. Downing a vial metals, Willow burned Pewter, Tin, and Iron. A shiver ran through her as she felt the brisk air with sharp clarity, and with a flare of metal she tore off down the road at a dead sprint. So long as her reserves lasted she could run almost indefinitely, and she had a long way to go to get back to Jane's property. Just needed to not spill the coffee.

The cicadas that had kept her company the day before had before upstaged by crickets to sing of Willow race down the country road. The turn up onto the drive came, and Willow pulled back the burn on her Pewter. Almost immediately she felt a wave of fatigue wash through her, and she took a moment to brace herself against a wooden post to catch her breath. Reaching up to her chest, she grabbed the metal mug that was pulled snug by Iron. With a frown, Willow found some of the coffee had seeped through the lid and stained her hoody, but there was still plenty left to her relief. A quick check of her phone showed there was still a bit before sunrise. Nodding to herself, she got moving again, jogging up the drive so she could meet Jane the moment she stepped out onto her porch.

[Mr. Blackbird Lore]

Willow heard her before she saw Jane, heard her boots crossing the hardwood floor of the house before opening the front door. She paused briefly when she saw Willow at the base of her porch before exiting. She planted her feet at the top of the steps and her fists on her hips.

The American was in a red button-up with tiny black stripes and black jeans- a pretty significant departure from her usual color schemes. The boots she wore had seen some dirty work in the past, and her blond hair was back up in a ponytail. She noted the coffee mug and fading sweat on her new mentee, but refrained from comment as she descended and silently took the coffee. Jane didn't step, but kept walking toward the barn. As they got closer, she asked over her shoulder. "Ye ever clean a horse stall?"

[Straken]

Grinning from her own satisfaction, Willow happily presented the coffee to Miss Smith. Wondering to herself, she knew she’d need some ways of making this morning routine more efficient. Perhaps buying a coffee maker for the dormroom. With that being moot until next Sunday however, Willow tucked that thought away for later as she turned and followed Jane. The thought was replaced by how tranquil she was noticing the ranch to be now that she paid attention to it. Beyond the occasional cricket, the pre-dawn morning was beginning to sound with the occasional bird call, punctuated by the out of synch footsteps of the two women. It was tranquil, and she could understand why Miss Jane and Mr. Flynn were always up early. Even beyond getting a head start on work, she could see it being mighty nice just sitting on the porch with the coffee and watching the sunrise. Her thoughts of tranquility were interrupted by Jane finally speaking, and the question almost slapped Willow in the face.

“Heard. Karate Kid style training,” Willow said in a low voice to herself. After a single breath in and out, Willow spoke up. “I have not, ma’am. That first day of class was the first time I’d ever been close to a horse. Much less its stall. But I’m ready to have at it.”

In the back of her mind Willow wished she hadn’t worn her good running shoes.

[Mr. Blackbird Lore]

Jane yanked open a sliding door of the barn with one arm, then paused to evaluate her mentee's apparel. "Not in them kickers ye ain't." She jerked a thumb toward the left side of the barn's interior.

It was almost exactly what one would expect: a wide central path from one pair of sliding doors to another. The nearest third of the barn was open space from wall to wall. On the left was a workbench running from the nearest corner to the first stall. It was in a mild state of clutter: a few rags in various states of cleanliness, some large tongs, and an assortment of brushes. A couple large devices were attached to the table: the vice was common and easily recognized, but the tall metal device at the far end was more difficult to identify. It looked like some kind of press, judging by the single lever on one side. Everything else was tucked neatly into drawers or hung in neat rows on the wall above the workbench. Beneath the bench were three pairs of boots in various states of filth.

"Grab a pair unner the bench n put yers unner there while ye work."

Jane sipped on the coffee while she waited. Her face gave no reaction that would indicate her satisfaction with the coffee- or lack thereof. Once Willow was properly shoed, Jane pointed out the hay and the larger farm tools in the space opposite the workbench: pitchfork, shovels, and so on. Then it was onto the stalls.

There were six stalls, and only two were occupied. No Name was waiting stoically at the first stall on the left and sounded his pleasure when Jane stroked his nose and offered him the customary morning snack. Jane was in the habit of teaching by example wherever she could, and it was too early for words, so it was up to Willow to take everything in. The gunslinger let No Name out and led him to the far doors, which let out onto two gently sloped acres. Then it was back for the other horse.

Stabled across from No Name was a white-haired horse Willow might be able to identify, if she were a horse girl. Its hair turned jet black at the knees and mixed in the mane and tail to give it a look one might have called a 'silver fox' on a person. Quite contrary to No Name, she stood at the farthest end of her stall, side-eyeing Jane and the newcomer. "She's a Highlan-Con'mara," the American explained. "Name's Anáil na Nuada."

A firm hand moved Willow out of the path of the gate. As soon as it was open, the mare bolted out and made a mad dash into the fields out back. "Still workin on that one."

With the horses fielded and the doors closed, Jane got around to explaining the tedium of Willow's work. Cleaning out the stalls, where to deliver the waste, and how to straw the stalls. "If ye ain't got questions, I'll be on the porch."

[Straken]

Willow was visibly relieved to hear there were boots she could borrow. The runners she’d worn were scarcely a few months old; a gift her dad had sent her when he heard she’d been accepted into a fancy foreign boarding school. Somehow even when he was traveling the world he still had a knack for buying her the perfect sized clothes and shoes. She would have felt terrible if they’d gotten mucked. So she wasted little time trading out for a pair of boots closest to her size, and made a mental note to save her allowance to buy a pair of her own.

While changing shoes she followed along as Jane gave a quick tour of the work space, making note of the various tools. Once geared up she sprang into step behind the American as they continued further into the barn. The smell of coffee wafted over to Willow’s nose. This made the teen acutely aware once more of the fact that the sun still wasn’t up, and that she had not brought anything caffeinated for herself. It was going to be a long morning.

Any momentary fatigue was quickly forgotten as the duo arrived at the horse stalls. Brimming once more with youthful exuberance, Willow gave a quick little to No Name from behind Jane’s back as the older woman handled the horse. Exuberance changed to legitimate excitement when she saw that Miss Smith had a second freaking horse. While a very pretty mare, her name seemed more like something out of one of Mr. Flynn’s texts than what Willow would have expected Miss Smith to name a horse.

Perking up when the floor was opened for questions, Willow had only two.

“Was that an ammo press?” Willow started, raising her voice slightly as she went and grabbed a pitchfork. “Back on the workbench.”

“Oh, and, is… actually, nevermind ma’am. Nothing else from me.”

Willow nixed her second question. She wasn’t going to use any kind of crutch here, and so she pulled out a small vial and drank it real quick. It was Aluminum, and with a quick burn an odd sensation ran through her stomach as all of the metal reserves she had burned away into nothing. A sudden, full body yawn washed through her. Yup. It was gonna be a long morning.

[Mr. Blackbird Lore]

Jane studied Willow a moment before glancing over at the workbench. "Yes, an if ye touch it without m permission, yer gon lose a finger bein stupid, er bein stupid, ye kennit?"

Then she made an educated guess on Willow's absent question. "Use yer ferromancy if ye want, I just have two rules. One, ye don risk m horses. Two, ye don break my stuff. And in that order. Ye break the barn, ye got the back to fix it. If ye bust m horses, there ain't no goin back, Mizz Fairburn. An there won't be no comin back, ye kennit?"

Once she was satisfied that Willow did indeed ken, Jane nodded. "I'll be out back if ye need me. Break's at eight, lunch is at leven."