AW Samhain, Somewhere

[P0rcelain]

Enough of the gathered students agreed with Caelfind's suggestion that they started walking in that direction, a few at a time and then generally in mass. There was plenty of chatter to go with the movement, of course. Some repeated the idea as if it were their own, others figured that anyone who could climb a tree that well probably knew what they were doing, and so on.

As they walked, the talk continued and began to drift in the direction of Maeve's earlier suggestion.

"I'm pretty good with my hands," said Ronan. A few other crafters spoke up, as well. "So we can probably build some kind of shelter. Not much in the way of tools, though.."

A few girls said they knew how to hunt, but none were survivalists. It was clear enough that, while most everyone was eager to prove themselves as witches or their supporters, the group was not particularly ready for life in the wilderness.

They arrived at the small stream and the discussion continued. Ronan and his ilk started looking for things to assemble the camp with. Few had cutting tools, save for Tatts' knife, but there was likely debris enough to put something rough together. The small stream's water was clear and cool. The mist continued to roll in and visibility dropped to the point where the crafters became less comfortable going out to find wood, for fear of not finding their way back.

"-just not sure if we'll be able to see the camp. Maybe once we get a fire going-"

"-could follow the stream? Not likely to move-"

"Ah, not shore if I'd truss' that o'er much," said a voice from the branches above, crackling like a poorly tuned radio. When the students looked up, they saw a girl whose form flickered from grayscale to static, and even occasionally discordantly colored vertical bars, as though she was being presented through a very old fashioned TV. "The forest is keen to mess with ya, in the interest o' seein' what yer made of."

She smiled down at them broadly.

A few of the students decided that they'd seen a ghost and ran off into the woods, to which the newcomer tsk tsk'd at while shaking her head. She flickered out of existence, then appeared behind a girl. "Boo," said her crackly voice.

"Ah~! It IS a g-gh-ghost!" and off she, too, ran into the mists.

"Well," said the newcomer with glee, "she's not exactly wrong! Right proper camp you're all puttin' together 'ere. Great for my reception. Get it?"

Tatts was busy cutting something at the command of another student before the ghost-like person appeared. When they first spoke, she stood up and swiveled around like a Lazy Susan. At first she just stared; squinted. When they seemed to 'teleport' behind the other girl, Tatts jumped, startled, then relaxed again shortly after. She blinked a few times, the brain behind her face working extra hard to process what she was seeing.

In truth, the others had vacated so quickly it was more like being thrust into an entirely different scenario than it was frightening or frustrating. The simple fact was clear: Those that had just ran had probably just failed in an instant. Whether by luck, drunkenness, or nerves of steel, Tatts still remained.

"...Mmmmmfuckme." She muttered idly as the situation finally began to click for her. "Fuckin' 'right then. What's ya shtick?"

Her tone was carrying a potent brew of irritation, lack of surprise, and genuine interest. Apparently that was what she was steeping. She knew that something supernatural would probably happen in these woods at some point. If anything she seemed surprised that it had happened so soon. The irritation at being interrupted, and having what seemed to be a sound plan start falling apart due to ineptitude. The curiosity... Well. This was not usual, and apparently she had scholarly instincts.

 

[StrangeSpeeder]

"... I don't know, it kind of looks like your reception is pretty poor? Terrible quality, I have to say."

Maeve wanted to slap herself as she made the comment. She just couldn't help it. Before the strange... creature arrived, she had been assisting throughout the camp. Trying to learn magic tricks lent itself well to knowing how to tie certain trick knots, and even a little into construction seeing as sometimes, you had to do your own props. Not enough to do either bare handed or without tools though, certainly.

And now she found herself committed- compelled even, to talk this, creature, down, even as some hopefuls a bit more sensible than her took off at the first chance they got- despite it not showing overt hostility. Yet. She wondered how they would fair- while this was all a test, the stated goal was to survive until... Wow she really should have payed more attention. Maybe she'll cajole somone else into asking when the professor comes back. Hopefully in the morning.

She stood up finally, from the stream, clutching a small handful of rocks in one hand, while the other she clenched her fist, resisting the urge to shiver and wipe the much covering it off. At the time, she'd been making an attempt at finding something she could use to effectively light a fire, flint stones in the creek. She began pacing, making a circle around the low resolution ghost... or perhaps, just a hologram into the mist- really, it could be either... And tossed a few of the stones into the air, until she started juggling them one handed.

"I mean, you look like you're barely holding yourself together, even- bad connection, would you say?" She continued moving as as she chatted, hoping to keep its attention... although she wasn't averse it it focusing on Tatts instead. In truth, she hoped to be sufficiently distracting in such that, when it proved to be hostile, somone would be in an excellent position to do, something about it.

But, as she looked around the camp, with the opportunity to do so inconspicuously provided by her traversing it, there being decidedly fewer people made her second guess herself. Were they wrong for cutting and running? Not necessarily- while she didn't know much about how the wyrd witches actually operated, she was fairly certain that they would prioritize keeping themselves alive when possible, seeing as there wouldn't be many of them really. Infact, running without a second thought with a group of people could almost be considered an admirable trait, perhaps!

Running alone, without a plan on the other hand, was... Well. She hoped that girl was picked up by a teacher before it was too late.

That said, she hoped that ghosts weren't selectively intangible, or some other such nonsense, if she was hostile. She certainly wasn't going to run untill eithe Tatts or Roan did though- or maybe that girl that was up in the trees from earlier? Heck, maybe even miss Queen of Wands.

 

[Whisper]

The ghost-thing flickered a few more times as it took in the two girls' responses, apparently delighted by their questions.

"Bad connection! Fuckin' roight!" it - she - declared eventually. "D'ya have any idea how 'ard it is gettin' through? Fookin' Samhain an' all that shit an' it still feels like I need to stick a few more quarters in the slot."

She flickered, closer to Maeve now, seeming to take her in. She mumbled something about the veil being thin being bullshit as she did.

"Yea, alright, ye've got the stuff. You, too, the one what painted her skin up like a kid with too many fuckin' markers," she declared. The ghost continued about until it had eventually declared all those who remained satisfactory. She'd even tried to tug at Cael's antlers, though her hands weren't sufficiently tangible for it to be noticed.

"Fuckin' witch test is gettin' better, roight? Well, good. Only 'alf of us made it when I went through this bull," she muttered, then appeared in the center of them all. "'spose we should get this started 'en, yeah? They called me Channel, back whens I was alive, and you can, too. Tonight you lot get the good ghosts, so long as you don't do anything stupid. E'en those runts what ran away."

Channel nodded her head, her body temporarily being made up of some old black-and-white cowboy western. A few of the shots fired whizzed outside of the borders of her body and sizzled when they struck a nearby tree. For her part, the ghost ignored it.

"By the en' of the week, you need to make a connection with yer kindlin'," the ghost declared. "You won' be able to light it - that comes later - but ya need to find it. Ye all have somethin' that drives ya, makes ya strong or passionate. Makes yer life worth livin'. Yer Wyrd is gonna latch onta that, when the time comes. If ya don' know what it is, then you won' be able to guide it- an', well, the results aren't always good."

She flickered, appearing next to Maeve. "Might end up with a bad connection, yeah?"

Another flicker and she sat in one of the trees, looking down at most of them. "These here woods will test ya, until ye've found your answer. Fail, or not try hard enough, and it'll snuff ya out before ya've even got started. Pow!" she clapped her hands together, emitting a burst of static. "But don' worry yer pretty heads o'er much. Yer not looking for the meaning of life or anythin'. An' ye've got time to change yer answer, if you find you don't like the one you start with. But when this is all said an' done, and yer back at the school - well, that's that."

She hopped down from the branch, landing silently. "So, that's my shtick. A few words o' wisdom from an alumni, as it were. An' maybe a few more, if'n yer fuckin' polite about it, yeah?"

 

[P0rcelain]

"Yea, alright, ye've got the stuff. You, too, the one what painted her skin up like a kid with too many fuckin' markers," she declared. The ghost continued about until it had eventually declared all those who remained satisfactory. She'd even tried to tug at Cael's antlers, though her hands weren't sufficiently tangible for it to be noticed.

Embarrassment tickled at Tatts as the stranger made this comment. Memories surfaced she did not appreciate coming up.

"It's-... They're-..." She muttered, fighting against both the 'ghost's onslaught of words and her own anxiety on the subject, "Ugh." She gave up.

Channel nodded her head, her body temporarily being made up of some old black-and-white cowboy western. A few of the shots fired whizzed outside of the borders of her body and sizzled when they struck a nearby tree. For her part, the ghost ignored it.

"By the en' of the week, you need to make a connection with yer kindlin'," the ghost declared. "You won' be able to light it - that comes later - but ya need to find it. Ye all have somethin' that drives ya, makes ya strong or passionate. Makes yer life worth livin'. Yer Wyrd is gonna latch onta that, when the time comes. If ya don' know what it is, then you won' be able to guide it- an', well, the results aren't always good."

Tatts blinked twice, yet again. She was keeping up, but it was not easy for her poor, substance riddled brain.

Another flicker and she sat in one of the trees, looking down at most of them. "These here woods will test ya, until ye've found your answer. Fail, or not try hard enough, and it'll snuff ya out before ya've even got started. Pow!" she clapped her hands together, emitting a burst of static. "But don' worry yer pretty heads o'er much. Yer not looking for the meaning of life or anythin'. An' ye've got time to change yer answer, if you find you don't like the one you start with. But when this is all said an' done, and yer back at the school - well, that's that."

She hopped down from the branch, landing silently. "So, that's my shtick. A few words o' wisdom from an alumni, as it were. An' maybe a few more, if'n yer fuckin' polite about it, yeah?"

She raised a finger of her free hand up to tap her cheek, resting her chin in her palm. Pieces started to slot together in her mind. She lowered her hand and took out the playing card Maeve had given her again. It was right-side up. She stared at it with a puzzled look, then turned it upside-down again.

"Hm," she thought aloud solemnly, "Well, 'tis been fuckin' weird, but thankye. Shit'll get weirder anyway, ay?"

Tatts said nothing else, but it was clear she was considering this former-students advice. More likely out of impulse than voluntarily, mind you, but the initiative must count for something. In this knee-deep trance, she did not muster any intelligent questions, despite her best interests.

 

[Over Yandere]

With no further questions or statements made her way, Caelfind simply stuck her hands in her pockets and walked with the crowd towards the stream. The parroting of her idea may have touched a slight nerve but she kept it to herself, no point arguing with the birds after all. As for the area the group moved to well it wasn't exactly the best but at least it clean looking water and plenty of trees. As for her own role in the camp well she gathered some kindling for the fire among the dry plant debris, but then quickly switched to conserving her energy. In her mind tonight's test would be about endurance rather than survival skills. The more time they spent out here the more they'd need things like shelter but for one night warmth and water were key. They had water and a fire seemed like it was forming.

Yet even as she thought that, the notion proved to be a pipe dream as the mists rolled in thicker and those who had deigned to be the crafters began to fear the search for burnable wood due to the visibility or rather the lack thereof surrounding them. As they began to debate what to do a foreign voice broke the suggestions. Stern eyes watched as several girls fled, which in this visibility? Well Caelfind supposed they'd be failed rather quickly when they inevitably tripped and hurt themselves while running through the mist. She herself thought about just slinking away from the group and trying to make it on her own but something stopped her... Ronan's naive kindness maybe? Hard to say but she felt somewhat bad about the idea of just leaving him here.

The ghost seemed to babble on and try to dissuade them from this or that which got her mind moving, made her try to think through whatever unease she was currently feeling. The odds of it not being some creation of their proctor were low but not zero. She'd felt odd things in the woods before. The sensation of being watched, strange noises and calls, and things moving on the periphery of one's vision. All of that made her not rule out the possibility that this was indeed a ghost. The other two lasses who seemed to have an inkling of a spine or personality were chatty enough that she herself stayed silent, kept a low profile as it was. Though even as she put up a cool front, Cael would be a liar if she said having the phantasm of a projection swiping through her antlers wasn't freaky or unnerving.

However when the spirit began to talk about the trial and the next steps she definitely regained her nerves. By the time it was done speaking her head was spinning with thoughts and questions but given that it was Samhain and the "spirit" did just spill a lot of information, Caelfind thought it only appropriate to join Tatts in giving thanks. "Thank ye for your information, an advice. We'll take it ta heart. I got at least one question though if ya don't mind answering it. Is tonight's test really only about survival and determination?"

 

[StrangeSpeeder]

Maeve stiffened as the ghost teleported right to her- as she resisted the urge to immediately attempt to blind it from the sudden movement- with the clump of mud she had in her offhand from the creek. She took a breath when it finally backed off, only able to respond with a nervous laugh when it seemingly approved of her. Okay, that was freaky. She really couldn't let anyone see that though- she had a front to maintain! Hopefully everyone would be distracted by Channel's chattering long enough for her to compose herself.

During her composing of her sense of self, she listened in on her surprisingly informative-for-a-ghost monologue, and the resulting questions that seemed to trickle in. The way things were going, maybe it... wouldn't be as bad as she thought at first, with being left in the woods. The way she figured it, they would get some time to situate themselves properly, at least the first night, and then the horrible mind bending abominations would come, to test our strengths and weaknesses.

Oh yeah, things were going great.

Unfortunately, she didn't have the first clue of what questions to even ask. The Wyrd itself varied signifigantly between everyone, she was sure- and their foes? Just as much, if not more, probably- not to mention not being relevant to the task at hand of proving ourselves worthy. ... Maybe, questions about the wood itself? That at least seemed like it would be a consistent factor between them!

Of course, given what she just said it would probably liable to do a changeup as not given she talked it up like it was a living thing that delighted in poking and prodding at those who entered it. Still, it couldn't hurt- although she did wait untill the antler girl that liked to climb trees was done... Did somone mention her name before? Wow she really needed to find the time to work that into a conversation. "Humm any, ideas on how to not make the woods mad at us, or any more mad than it might be already? OH also hi nice to meet you? I'm Maeve."

 

[Whisper]

"Hm," she thought aloud solemnly, "Well, 'tis been fuckin' weird, but thankye. Shit'll get weirder anyway, ay?"

"Oh, aye," said the flickering ghost with a nod. "It's basically in the name, yeah? The Wyrd-wood."

However when the spirit began to talk about the trial and the next steps she definitely regained her nerves. By the time it was done speaking her head was spinning with thoughts and questions but given that it was Samhain and the "spirit" did just spill a lot of information, Caelfind thought it only appropriate to join Tatts in giving thanks. "Thank ye for your information, an advice. We'll take it ta heart. I got at least one question though if ya don't mind answering it. Is tonight's test really only about survival and determination?"

Channel shrugged in response. "Beats me. I'm here tonight on a bit of community service. Or maybe it's just to make meself feel better about tomorrah?" She shrugged once more, alighting onto a nearby stump. "Seems like everything you do here is about that, though. Gotta figure it out now, if you want to make it longer than I did, at least!"

She fell into a fit of laughter, accompanied by hazy comic speech bubbles of "Ha ha ha" and laughing smiley faces drifting in the air near her. The ghost straightened up eventually and wiped at her ethereal face, as if to brush away tears.

Of course, given what she just said it would probably liable to do a changeup as not given she talked it up like it was a living thing that delighted in poking and prodding at those who entered it. Still, it couldn't hurt- although she did wait untill the antler girl that liked to climb trees was done... Did somone mention her name before? Wow she really needed to find the time to work that into a conversation. "Humm any, ideas on how to not make the woods mad at us, or any more mad than it might be already? OH also hi nice to meet you? I'm Maeve."

"Nice ta mee'cha, Maeve. As fer the woods, well. They're not mad at you, exactly. So long as ya aren't choppin' down any trees - lookin' at you, big fella'," she said, pointing at Ronan, who held a crude axe uncertainly. She continued, "- then you won't be makin' it angry. Doesn't mean it won't hurt you, though. 'ell, even the Morrigan got cursed, so what can we all expect?"

She chuckled.

"The woods want ya to learn, is all, and if'n ye can't- well, that's not it's business. Think of the Wyrdwood more like the wind oor the waves - it does what it does. The wind isn' mad when it blows down a house, but the house gets wrecked all the same. Same isn't true for me and mine, though. We'll be putting you through all kinds of hell!"

The ghost hopped down and clasped her hands together behind her back. "Tha's all the time I get fer tonight. I'll see you again tommorah, under less friendly terms, yeah?"

With an audible click, she collapsed on herself vertically, as though an old TV had been turned off.

Ronan was the first to speak.

"Yeah, that was.. weird. I.. don't think she's with the instructors. But- they had to know, right?"

"Of course they know," said Ringlets, finally finding her voice after being too scared to do much but try to not be noticed for once.

The crafter-to-be gave a slow nod, took a deep breath, and got back to camp building. With a few less plans for the numerous tall trees around them.

 

[P0rcelain]

Tatts heard Channel's confession of future-violence amidst her pondering and slowly roused. She fumbled and slipped the card back into a pocket, seeming startled. After Channel disappeared, she held her head in a palm and gripped into her straggly hair with her fingers.

"...Fuckkkk..." she groaned with palpable concern, "ye think we can even touch 'em? Any o' ye managed it?"

She asked hopelessly. The kind of hopelessness which desperately searches for a way out. A hopeful hopelessness, you could say. Her use of 'em' was not in the sense of Channel herself, either. It was the mysterious 'other' that she referred to. What could only be presumed to be the other 'ghosts'.

The revelation that these spirits were in fact incorporeal in some fashion was not a welcome one for her. Surely, many of the remaining students were thinking the same things: Maybe if they are incorporeal like that, they cannot physically touch the students either? Maybe hell was a haunting? Even if true, the obvious thought process did not seem to bring Tatts at ease in the slightest. Her eyes were still darting around as she tried to think about what she would do to defend herself; and the students she had gained an arbitrary fondness for. Barring Ringlets, she was the cocky one.

She began tapping on the side of her head with a finger. This seemed to soothe her frantic movements considerably. Aa, yes. If the answer was not obvious now, she would just think of a plan. Two plans in this case, A and B. A, for if they are incorporeal. B, the obvious solution if they were not. She gently kicked the object she had been cutting aside, pocketed her knife, then turned away from the tree where Channel had appeared. She was pacing and plotting, still digging her fingers through her hair under her witch's hat, though now calmly.

 

[Over Yandere]

Caelfind kept rather composed, well other then the obvious feeling of infirmity in the knees, as Channel admitted to the presumption of violence they would need to endure. Cael had battled the elements before in terms of camping in the woods of this moon but never had she encountered a ghost or the violence of house breaking wind and waves in the form of supernatural forces. She had faced the cold, wet conditions, and needed to be quiet around the odd animal or two yet none of that felt like it had prepared her for whatever this was quickly becoming. A moment of panic, then a deep breath. A small spark filled her chest, maybe she wasn't cut out for this but there was only one way forward and withing nothing to go back to a soft determination to persist began to form.

"Cannae say I could so much as scratch Channel in my current state... dunno about these nebulous others," Caelfind replied to Tatt's question though she was looking at the others gathered when she continued. "Way I see it though, ye got three options. Quit, die, or survive. I admit I dunno much about dealin with tha supernatural but there's nothin for me if I quit and I don' intend ta die." Her little speech concluded she suddenly felt a wave of embarrassment for calling so much attention to herself. Her eyes looked at the others for their reaction.

 

[StrangeSpeeder]

Maeve made a herculean effort to not let out a sigh of relief. They had to maintain a calm, cool, outward confidence. Even if they didn't feel it. At least they knew now, some... very important facts. And now, they could more properly process them throughout the night. And not sleep, probably. She imagined quite a few here wouldn't feel safe untill morning. She might even include herself in that.

Eventually she took a pose, tapping on her chin with one finger before holding it up pointing to the sky, somewhat over dramatically, as she considered Tatt's question. But of course, partly to her own dramatics, Caelfind answered instead. So instead, she stayed quiet, and let her have the moment. She didn't really want it all that badly anyway. What did suprise her, was that she kept going.

Maeve watched with interest as passion leaked through in her speech, at the wyrd touched girl. All too quickly, the improptu speach ended, Maeve spotting the somewhat panicked, emberass search for... something, in the faces of those around her. Quickly, Maeve herself grinned as Cael met her own gaze for a moment. "Ah, yeah, what she said! There have been... so many, people to come before us, and all of them did it the same way we have. There will always be something we can do." Meave opted to leave it as vauge platitudes right now- as that was probably what the people woudl want to here over her own guestimating of one's ability to combat the spirit in the moment they chose to become corporeal enough to do something in return.

She turned to eye the edges of the camp for a moment- areas where certain members had run off right away. Untill she let out a slight sigh and muttered to the others "But enough of that- perhaps we ought to get to work."

 

[Whisper]

The hours went by as the group of students, shaken by their experiences but not yielding to them, set up camp.

Not everyone returned after running off. There was still more than half of them, but not by many. A melancholy mood hung over the 'survivors', as some were calling themselves, as they discussed their encounters in the woods. All had run into ghostly witches of varying degrees of sanity. Everyone else had either continued running or tried to fight the apparitions. In either case, it was clear that none of the others had gained the kind of information that the group that remained secured. Whether they shared that or not was up to them.

The rest of the night was uneventful. Cold, damp, windy, and all those things, but uneventful. The roughshod camp that everyone had to managed to assemble as the night hours went by was better than nothing, but none present could call such a rush-job "good", let alone "sufficient". Back and neck aches in the morning were a testament to that.

~~~

Ronan and a few of the witch candidates managed to scrounge up some local berries and roots that seemed edible enough for breakfast the next morning. Everyone was discussing what to do when night came around.

"Well," began Ringlets, with her usual noble-like mannerisms, "I think we should fight. They're clearly hostile - besides, if we're going to be great witches some day, we can't start our stories by running away every time things go bad."

The hooded girl with the gaming device looked up, raising a thumb in affirmation. "I agree with Villainess A. You can't level up if you run away from every fight."

Ringlets looked at the girl, aghast. "V-vill.. Villainess A?"

"Mm."

"I'm no Villainess! I'm going to be a proper witch, a hero like - "

"Mmmm," said the girl, concentrating. "Okay. ... Background Character A."

"My name is Emeria Blanchfield, and you will refer to me as - hey, pay attention!"

 

[P0rcelain]

Not everyone returned after running off. There was still more than half of them, but not by many. A melancholy mood hung over the 'survivors', as some were calling themselves, as they discussed their encounters in the woods. All had run into ghostly witches of varying degrees of sanity. Everyone else had either continued running or tried to fight the apparitions. In either case, it was clear that none of the others had gained the kind of information that the group that remained secured. Whether they shared that or not was up to them.

Before sleeping, something intelligent seemed to weakly crawl out of Tatts. It was like her mind had undergone a subtle gear shift. She spent the evening badgering and pestering other students about their encounters. She asked all sorts of questions. Expected ones, such as "Did ye get close 'nough to touch 'em?" Yet also, strange ones. Questions like "What colour was their hair, would ye say?", "Would ye describe 'em as lookin' boyish or lady-like?", "Eye colour?", "Aye, on a scale of 1 to 10, how fuckin' crazy did they seem?".

It seemed as though she had her own plans formulating. Something ticking in a vessel that the foolish might excuse as dormant. There were instincts in her that had not been used in years, now ever so slowly coming back to life.

-
Alas, after such a bizarre personality shift, she seemed to return mostly to normal in the morning. She had not been seen awake all morning, before she finally arose from her sleeping place, stumbling towards the group as they had their makeshift breakfast. There was something different about this stumbling. It wasn't drowsy and uncoordinated. It was frantic. Energized. Her hands and legs were shivering; trembling. Her eyes weren't alert though, they were tired and sensitive. She was shielding them.

"Any o' yous got any fuckin' booze...?" She whined in a husky, tired voice. There was a smidge of desperation in her. She did not let much of it show.

 

[Over Yandere]

Throughout the rest of the cold damp night, Caelfind was kept mostly warm by her jacket. At least so long she left her hands in the pockets and didn't sit on the ground. Still the lack of eventfulness during the rest of the night gave her lots of time to think. Mainly she tried to think less about defeating 'ghosts' and more about discovering whatever it was she needed to discover about herself. No profound self discoveries were made though she did do some thinking about where she had come from, who her parents were, and what they'd think of all this.

When daybreak's first light came she set about gathering the supplies for a makeshift bed that would at least put her a couple inches off the ground. leafy ferns, fallen sticks of a decent enough size or even the odd branch was taken back to the makeshift camp. Once her materials were assembled she simple laid out the wood and then layered the fern leaves and other plant biomass on top of the sticks. Once this work was done, she'd a approach Ronan.

"Ronan, mind if ah borrow ya fir a moment?" she'd ask of him, once she had his attention she'd follow it up with "Do ye know how ta make a snare?" if he did or perhaps even if he didn't her intent would be pretty clear. Make some snares for small game animals and then get some sleep while it was safe to do so and relatively warm. That way she'd get a long rest and maybe some more food upon waking up. If he didn't know how to make them himself she'd walk him through the idea of it. Once that was done she moved to her makeshift bed and started getting ready to sleep. However if someone decided to talk to her, she'd handle that before sleeping.

Tatts' question got a tired though still politely toned but rather quiet response of, "Not me, tho maybe one o' ms Blanchfield's cronies has some."

 

[Whisper]

"Did ye get close 'nough to touch 'em?" Yet also, strange ones. Questions like "What colour was their hair, would ye say?", "Would ye describe 'em as lookin' boyish or lady-like?", "Eye colour?", "Aye, on a scale of 1 to 10, how fuckin' crazy did they seem?".

Tatts received a variety of responses back. Everyone was fairly confident on the 'ghost' part of things, but the other specifics varied wildly.

There was a woman in a fine red dress with a ladylike demeanor who did not appreciate being attacked - she was supposedly the cause of a few of their number having gone ... missing.

Another, younger woman was described as wearing a purple and black dress with white details and a starfield pattern. Those who had seen her had ran immediately, intimidated by her large hat.

The last was a tomboyish woman in overalls that they had found attempting to tend to a small patch of flowers with little success, due to her incorporeal nature. She'd been friendly enough, but became progressively more distraught as her attempts to trim a weed failed.

Each of the apparitions had seemed normal enough, though the ones in red and overalls had, according to witnesses, gone from "pretty reasonable" to "batshit" when things hadn't gone their way. As for hair color, eye color, and other details, they were strangely absent. They'd been hard to discern with Channel, even though she'd been pretty happy to sit and talk for a while.

None of the witnesses had tried to touch one of the ghosts, though Red Dress' flames had certainly felt hot enough from a distance.

"Ronan, mind if ah borrow ya fir a moment?" she'd ask of him, once she had his attention she'd follow it up with "Do ye know how ta make a snare?" if he did or perhaps even if he didn't her intent would be pretty clear. Make some snares for small game animals and then get some sleep while it was safe to do so and relatively warm. That way she'd get a long rest and maybe some more food upon waking up. If he didn't know how to make them himself she'd walk him through the idea of it. Once that was done she moved to her makeshift bed and started getting ready to sleep. However if someone decided to talk to her, she'd handle that before sleeping.

Ronan hadn't know how to make a snare, it turned out, but he was a quick study. His large hands were more than dexterous enough for the task, whatever training he'd gone through to get him here proving itself out once again.

When they'd set a few snares, the young man was positively beaming with satisfaction from a job well done. When Cael went back to her business, he began showing the other craftspersons what to do. Soon enough, a variety of the snares had been set around their area in places that were out of the way, but seemed likely to have the interest of small game.

"Any o' yous got any fuckin' booze...?" She whined in a husky, tired voice. There was a smidge of desperation in her. She did not let much of it show.
...
Tatts' question got a tired though still politely toned but rather quiet response of, "Not me, tho maybe one o' ms Blanchfield's cronies has some."

Ringlets' mood was a little buoyed by someone using her actual name, rather than.. whatever that one girl kept calling her. She looked to her 'cronies' expectantly. One of the girls sighed and produced a small, crystal flask of some amber liquid and offered it over.

"Thank you, Aisling," said Emeria with a genuine smile. The other girl smiled back and gave a meek, but appreciative, nod.

"You're welcome, Miss Blanchfield," said Aisling.

Ringlets looked back to Tatts, clearly waiting for her to also thank the girl.

 

[StrangeSpeeder]

Maeve was miserable. Slightly damp. And cold. She wished she had spare clothes already- sent into the woods with out even a warning, or a primer on survival skills? Not even spare necceseties? What was somone supposed to do when they inevitably had to toss their favorite coat- or more, after its been lit aflame by a vengeful ghost?

She quietly stretched, groaning at the uncomfortable stiffness that came with sleeping on somewhat unfriendly structures- and sleep she had, suprisingly. Was she truly that bored in the night? In any case, how long was something of a mystery to herself. Regarding other bodily needs, she wasn't quite hungry yet... but she was sure she would be soon. As for thirst... she wondered how safe the water was briefly, before resolving to check on who had already drank from the streams without any sort of boiling throughout the day, and follow suit if they had already drank from it last night without any immediate problems.

In the midst of her ass crack of dawn morning stretch and warmup routine, she spotted Cael gathering... ferns. And sticks. It took her a few minutes to catch on- and follow suit to get something vaguely approaching a bed herself. Of course, being largley in experienced with it, by the time she was done, she came back to find the others in the midst of a fascinating back and forth- inbetween checking in on the crafts people and their snare building, anyway. She supposed she'd help them out with their endevours for some time untill it got a bit closer to midday and she finally laid down to have a more proper sleep.

"I'm not entirely sure we should be encouraging that overmuch... but if you really need it that bad, unless you know how to make more I imagine that may be the last of it. Better make it last."

She stayed quiet on the matter of fighting, however. She knew herself she wasn't exactly prepared for any type of fair physical confrontation. And a ghost with magic would most surely cheat. "Any bets on wether the professor would check up on us or not today?" She at least tried to keep her chatter to a quiet lull- for the sake of those that opted to go ahead and sleep 'early'.

 

[P0rcelain]

Ringlets' mood was a little buoyed by someone using her actual name, rather than.. whatever that one girl kept calling her. She looked to her 'cronies' expectantly. One of the girls sighed and produced a small, crystal flask of some amber liquid and offered it over.

"Thank you, Aisling," said Emeria with a genuine smile. The other girl smiled back and gave a meek, but appreciative, nod.

"You're welcome, Miss Blanchfield," said Aisling.

Ringlets looked back to Tatts, clearly waiting for her to also thank the girl.

Tatts took the flask with fragility and held it close to her body, still shaking. It clearly meant a lot to her, but perhaps more like a scrap of food taken from a dining table matters to an unruly cat. Then, she looked at Ringlets. She lifted the flask to her eyes to look at it too. Something clearly seemed off about this to her. Then with Maeve's comment, it clicked. A rare glimpse into Tatts' strange mind was opened through her expression. It was the face of a rabbit that just realized it was waltzing into a trap.

"I'm not entirely sure we should be encouraging that overmuch... but if you really need it that bad, unless you know how to make more I imagine that may be the last of it. Better make it last."

The entire scenario was rigged. Ringlets was not the sort to do anything for nothing in return, Tatts' face said. And her cronies would do anything to please her, regardless of if it were with ill intent. This was a spectacle. Everyone could see the weakness in her. They could see the trembling; the shaken up look. It was like they were giving drugs to a desperate homeless person. Right now, she was expecting thanks. Later, it would be favours. ‘Friendship’. A weapon Ringlets would use against her, to make points and prove that Tatts' was neurotic and mentally unstable. "You try to help her, and she just does not seem to appreciate it", she could hear Ringlets say. Tatts began shaking more. Then, she took a deep breath, and her trembling returned to more steady, expected levels.

She looked to Aisling, choosing to ignore Ringlets and lowering the flask to her side. "Why've ya got liquor anyhow? Are ya sure ye do not need it, mate?"

Tatts' was directing the flow of the 'spectacle' away from herself. This would not be about Ringlets doing her a favour. It would be about responsibility.

 

[Over Yandere]

Sitting down on her makeshift bed now, Caelfind watched the encounter between the Villainess and Tatts with mild silent interest. Honestly she probably wouldn't have questioned the drink herself, she sorta just expected the prissy sort to have stuff they either shouldn't or something they took from their parents. This seemed like one of those situations, but she also didn't think very highly of 'Emeria' and once the possibility of her having engineered the situation was brought up Caelfind was sorta piqued in both interest and defensiveness. Looking to the card passer out-er... the tarot girl... Tarot, after she asked her question about Mairead. With a certain soft quietness she responded in such a way as to not disturb any other day sleepers, "Ah assumed they're scryin' on us, tho ah suppose they might come check ta see who's left or give us a new rule or somethin."

 

[Whisper]

"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.

She nodded in response to the looks.

"We are often tasked with going deep into enemy territory for days or even weeks at a time. We do not always have the luxury of rations or proper supplies. As you learn the mysteries of the Wyrd, these concerns will matter less. Regardless, survival and resilience in the face of challenging conditions is not just a skill - it is a quality. One of many you need if you want to be a Witch who will survive their first year. If all of this has seemed too challenging so far, then consider how you would feel if you were facing the Droma in similar conditions for weeks on end. Many of us have."

She paused, some errant thought flickering across her face; a small break in her scowl, for but a moment. "It is a small price to pay for the continued survival of our people."

Mairead began to walk the camp, looking at their preparations.

"Shelter and beds are good. Crude, but given your supplies they are acceptable. I saw traps on the way in. Those of you who have contributed to this should be proud."

She pivoted to look at them once more.

"You may have noticed that there are less of you now. Some of your fellows have dropped out, but they are unharmed. That changes tonight and on the nights to come. When the darkness takes the woods tonight, your safety will be at risk. If you stay, you accept that risk. When I leave, I will take those who wish to go with me and see them off premises."

A few people began to gather their meager things, but not many.

"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.

By the time lunch came around, everyone had been worked hard and their camp was much improved. Mairead, still spotless, produced a collection of simple foods out of thin air and allowed them all to eat. It was not fancy, but it was filling and there was enough to go around. She stood and watched the stream while they filled their bellies.

****​

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."

 

[P0rcelain]

"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."

 

[Over Yandere]

Caelfind didn't jump when Mairead spoke but a shiver did run down her spine. Creepy as the entrance was and as tired as Caelfind was, she hadn't expected the dramatic timing. Of course this also meant that her sleep was now officially not happening. When given the option to quit, Caelfind stubbornly remained where she was. This was the path she had chosen long ago and she would stay the course this day. As for Mairead's speech about War Witches, well Caelfind had gotten enough warning about the life of one to know that the words were true and that things would only get harder from here. The part about the survival of their people didn't resonate at all with her however. It actually left Caelfind feeling a little rebellious if anything. The people of the Wyrwycky had oft mistreated her, she didn't really care about them. Rather, she just wanted to feel more connected to the people who she held dear within her soul. Still she kept any comments about that to herself and simply waited for what was next.

* * *​

The basic rudimentary weapon creation session was rather informative though Caelfind didn't like the prospect of fighting ghosts with a sharpened stick or sharpened rock lashed to a stick. Either one sounded like a good way to end up dead. She understood that running or traps wouldn't always be possible, but fighting while ill equipped seemed ill advised to the young hopeful. At least Mairead had deigned to give them all a decent meal after hours of making weapons and improving the camp. Caelfind ate her fill and if given the opportunity would eat slightly more. She knew she'd be tired if not exhausted when night fell and would need the extra energy.

* * *
​

In the afternoon they were formed into lines, with the Witch hopefuls being seen to first. Caelfind watched as the various hopefuls were asked to hold weapons that each were produced out of thin air by Mairead. Tatts was standing in line before her, and went through what seemed like at least a dozen weapons, all a no. Though Caelfind overheard their conversation, she did naught but raise a slight brow. She was aware of what Mairead might be getting at but was unfamiliar with the legacy or the strength of it. Suddenly there was an annoyed cough, shit, she'd gotten caught up in the thought of it and Mairead was now staring expectantly right at her.

A small throwing knife was held out, handle offered to the hopeful. Caelfind muttered a soft, "sorry" and then took the knife into hand. Something about it must have been off because Mairead quickly said, 'no.' Much like Tatts, Caelfind went through several weapons before there was a long pause once she was given a whip and just when Caelfind started to smile a harsh sigh was followed by "not that one either..." out of Mairead's lips. She seemed to stare at Caelfind, her hair, something about it seemed different from even the previous day. Something only a discerning eye would notice. "Try this..." Mairead finally said as though it was the most obvious choice in the world. However it wasn't a bow, a spear, a sword, a shield, or even something exotic like a halberd. It was simply a small relatively unassuming pistol. Sleek in its design, and simple in appearance, though strangely built of primarily wood. When it touched Caelfind's hand it felt good but.. like so many grains of sand stuck in your shoe after a walk on the shore, not quite a perfect fit. However Mairead seemed satisfied. "Next!" she called as she moved past Caelfind.

Stepping aside, Caelfind looked down at the object in hand and the simple yet complex weapon now resting within her palm was certainly interesting. She didn't know if bullets could harm a ghost but if somebody got some holy water from Mairead she'd be willing to dunk the ammo just to give it a shot.