"Indeed," came a soft voice from the nearby mist.. that definitely hadn't been there before.
Mairead walked out in all her short, white lace glory, looking as though she'd just stepped out of a couture outlet. Not a single lace was ripped, none of the pristine white of her clothing so much as stained by the dirt she walked on. She looked over them all with her one visible eye, the group a stark contrast to her own appearance. Whether she was satisfied or not, she didn't show. Her face had the same soft scowl it always had.
Whatever revelations Tatts was hoping to get about the flask vanished as everyone turned to their instructor. Some of the gathered students were clearly displeased with the ordeal, their expressions bordering on hostile.
Tatts lingered on her stare towards Aisling for a few seconds after Mairead appeared. At first it seemed like she was being stubborn and persistent, but then she turned around and almost jumped when Mairead continued talking. After that, she was quiet and attentive. She was still shaking.
"As for the rest, you are here to become War Witches and their supporters. I will spend today teaching you how to fight. How to turn your environment into weapons. You may not need these skills when you are a Witch in her prime or a craftsmen in their hall, but we do not have the luxury of time."
With that, Mairead moved into instruction mode. She demonstrated to all of them how to craft a bow from what they had on hand, how to make a knife or spear using flint or stone. She reviewed their basic survival skills, commending their choice of a camp location and discussing what was and was not edible. By the time lunch came, everyone had at least a basic understanding of how to get by in the wilderness. Those who already knew what they were doing had their skills reviewed.
She did not seem awfully impressed about Mairead's comment about them becoming War Witches. The reason why was obvious. If she did not already fancy herself one,
still wearing that witches hat in stubborn defiance, she by the very least was one of the few people here who were combat ready. This attitude quickly changed when Mairead began showing her how to
make weapons such as knives and spears from flint, bone and stone. Although a stubborn survivor, it was clear Tatts was not a
survivalist like Caelfind was. Still, she accepted this new information readily and with a great deal of engagement. She was the sort of extroverted student to ask the teacher questions as she bumbled on, filling her brain despite her withdrawals. "Aye, and this goes 'ere? O, right. How'd ye find flint anyhow? What if ye can't?" And so on. While practicing on her own after Mairead had given her fill of attention, an audible but muttered and under-breath series of "...Fuck"s and "Shit"s could be heard from her direction. Some of these curses were tired and distressed while others were enthusiastic, as if she had discovered something exciting.
During these classes, the flask she had been given was absent. Whether she had returned it or hid it by wherever she slept, no one really seemed to know except Tatts and Aisling themselves. Not even Ringlets.
By the time lunch came around, everyone had been worked hard and their camp was much improved.
One embarasing instance had occured concerning Tatts and camp improvements. Mairead had been inspecting each person's sleeping conditions. She would make comments on how to make improvised shelter and bedding. However, when she got to Tatts, Mairead had asked her where her shelter was. Tatts seemed surprised and simply said "Why?". After which, Mairead insisted and Tatts took her off to some place downhill. Some students, having followed, saw there was no bedding. No shelter. Nothing. She had slept on the ground that night. Tatts then went on the defensive, surprised that Mairead was bothered by this, and insisted that she slept fine. She did not. Whether because of her lack of bed or from withdrawals, who bloody knew, but it was obvious she didn't. Afterwards, Mairead explained that sleeping on the bare ground is not particularly good for you, then taught her like she would with everyone else.
****
The afternoon began with everyone sorting themselves into two awkward lines. The first was the Witches, who Mairead was going through with impressive speed. The other was the crafters.
"No," Mairead sighed, handing one weapon after another to the girl who played games on her little device. "No. No."
Where the weapons were coming from, who could say. They were simply in her hand one moment and then back to nothing when she casually tossed them away.
Eventually she stepped back and had the girl punch her hand.
"Interesting," she said, tapping one finger to the side of her cheek. "We will work on this. Go do that with one of the crafters. Concentrate on the feeling inside when you do so - it will be good for you both."
She went through the group like this, one person after another. Whatever it was she was looking for seemed to be something she could tell as soon as a person touched a weapon or stood a certain way. As soon as someone was in a stance she approved of or holding something that seemed right, she sent them off to practice with whatever it was. Later, she would find them each for some one-on-one instruction, but for now she was some kind of Sorting Hat for violence.
Mairead looked to the next person in line and waved them forward. "Well, let's see you, then."
The next person in line just happened to be Tatts. Mairead, without even flinching, immediately appearified a sword and passed it to her. Tatts took it nonchalantly. Then, a mild look of annoyance flashed over Mairead's face.
"Well? Stand ready!" She snapped.
It was clear she had already assessed Tatts' combat capabilities and was not going to go easy on someone who could already fight. Least of all, a delinquent. Somewhat to her surprise, however, Tatts' quickly did as she said with a weird accuracy. She almost instinctively put one foot in front of the other, adopting a perfect stance for the exact sort of sword she had been given. She looked like a professional. A warrior or knight, the other students could practically
see an imposing, armored witch in a combination of flowing robes and steel. It was perfect.
Then, Mairead spoke again, to everyone's shock: "No."
Tatts passed the sword back, unphased. Was it the tremors? Was her lot simply with some other tool of destruction? Mairead took out a mace. It was far more brutal in appearance. Once again, Tatts took it and adopted an awesome, almost swelling stance with it. Again, Mairead denied it. Then, knuckledusters. She raised her fists with fighting intent. Shadowboxed like they were made for her. No, not that either. A dirk. Tatts
was seen with a knife the other day. She flourished with it like it was an extension of her body. Mairead scolded her for being a talentless show off, then calmly elaborated, no, not that either. This continued on for a frustrating amount of time. A flail. No. A spear? Not a chance. Some sort of machine designed to propel rockets, perhaps? Nope. A plain old sports bat? Well, she really did look like a delinquent now, but no, not that either. Razors. Scythe. Scimitar. Chakram. Nunchaku. Dual axes. Sword and shield. Shield
then sword? Lance? An uncharacteristically large pair of scissors, for Pete's sake? No, wrong, incorrect, not fitting, nada, zilch, not at all, not a chance, not sporting, not like you at all.
It was at that point that Mairead stopped. She looked at Tatts in the eyes stoically. Then, she saw it. In her face, her hair, her eyes. She glanced down at her build and inspected that too.
"Dee-Ellis?" Mairead asked. It was monotone and unsurprised, but as much an exclamation as it were a question.
What in Samhain was a 'Dee-Ellis?' Was Mairead offering her a cocktail? But Tatts seemed to know exactly what Mairead meant. Her eyes widened and she began shaking more than before.
Tatts stammered for a moment, then came to awareness and answered. "Y-yes, ma'am. L-lilwen. Lilwen Dee-Ellis."
Mairead made a begrudging 'tsk' sound. As if her name were typical. She gestured for Tatts to pass the giant pair of scissors back, which she was also holding with great prowess. She did, and it disappeared. Mairead did not give her any weapon after that. She simply walked to the next student, saying with a touch of disdain:
"At least Lleucu trained her daughter to fight."