Absinth was rather uncomfortable with the situation. Not the whole deal thing, but just sitting in a pack's territory was nerve wracking enough, especially since she had never been apart of one before. Sure, a kingdom, but that was a different thing all together. Based on different social orders, different laws. The Warlord's territory was expansive and impressive. The market place had been a unique experience, and the promise of her armor and weaponry was... thrilling. But there was still something she needed to get done first.

So here she was, waiting for her end of the deal to arrive. The grandson of Sirius, which was a child, she assumed. Did she have to be mindful of her speaking? All she had to do was spar him a few times, teach him some of her worldly knowledge and then she was off to the Sound again. Easy. Right? Oh, fuck. What if he was an arrogant little shit? Absinth threw her head back, looking up at the sky and mustering up enough patience to handle whatever the case might be with... some amount of grace.

wormwood

The Warlords companion Marshal had given Wylan the heads up on what was to come, and the boy was unbelievably excited. He was impatient and restless waiting for the call, and when it came he was up so fast that he went all the way up - and then down again. Tripping over his own paws and landing in a heap. The boy with overly large paws was pretty accustomed to them betraying him. He shook it off and was up again. Running in the direction of the howl. He was too excited to move normally, instead his pace was a trott, with an added bounce and flare of his wings. Trott, trott, bounce! On repeat. Each flare showed the fluffy white underside of his wings.


His parents' den was in the woods, which made this territory the most familiar to him. It didn't take him long to find the white wolf waiting for him. His expression split into a delighted grin, and he and his little polar bear put on a spur of speed, racing to Absinth. He skidded to a stop directly in front of her, flaring his wings madly to try and stop his forward momentum. Which, of course, caused him to tumble head first into the stranger. He rolled to a stop and looked up at the green eyed wolf with a grin. “Hi! I'm Wylan!”

From the moment the boy had entered her field of view, he had her complete attention. Emeralds wide as her lips parted in surprise and awe. He bounced, and flapped his wings as he came to a clumsy stop before her. Fucking wings. She was frozen in place, forgetting about what he was even doing in the first place. Horns, wings, rainbow wolves, leprechauns, what else was she supposed to believe in? Gods? Absinth still gawked at the sight of the pup, in all his grinning, winged glory. He piped up a greeting, introducing himself and snapping her back to whatever flimsy reality this was.

It was worse than she had thought. He was energetic and innocent. Absinth sighed inwardly, knowing she was going to have to work extra hard on getting this job done. “Wylan. I am Absinth. The Warlord has asked me to teach you a few things about battle and the realities of it.” Absinth tried her best at a proper tone, firm and straight-forward for the child to understand.

wormwood

Right! She was putting on a ‘listen here” voice. He knew what to do when adults did that. He rolled over, putting his paws under his so he could climb back to his paws. He tucked his wings into his sides, and looked up at the taller adult. He was putting on his best behaviour. He didn't even jump! He just sort of bounced a little. It wasn't even a bounce, really. More like stretching his toes. An outlet for his energy and enthusiasm as he waited to see where this would go.


“I've been learning about guts, Mrs Absinth. Is this lesson going to be like that?” Guts were a reality of battle, right? They were in your chest (metaphorically only, according to Lefty) and in your stomach.

Absinth stared, amused as the boy set to work giving her his best attentive look, putting away his wings and sitting with a childish eagerness that he exuded throughout his body, even down to his toes. It got him a chuckle from her, her lips splitting with a smile she couldn’t help showing. She took a moment to listen to his explanation of a recent learning experience, something about guts. Well. It wasn’t necessarily wrong, but it was an odd part of battle to build off of.

”Yes, well that’s one part of battle. Making sure it’s not your guts that get split on the ground, or the guts of someone you love.” Absinth responded, dipping into a heavier tone but not trying to make it sound too menacing. He was a child after all. She wasn’t about to explain evisceration  and bloodbaths to him. Time would do that — the world would… with all its cruelties. ”For now show me what you can do, little bird.” With that Absinth stood, gesturing for the boy to rise as well and put that energy to good use.


wormwood

Right! You only wanted the right guts. That made sense, that was important. He nodded his head vigorously to show he understood. Then she led the conversation into him showing off what he knew. Ha! He could certainly do that. "Okay!" He said enthusiastically as he bounced back onto his paws again, standing tall as he shook out his wings. Letting them splay out on either side of him. He spread out his paws, and dug his toes into the ground. He let his ears slick back, and narrowed his eyes.He even rolled his gums over his fangs and let out what was totally a menacing growl (right?). What did she want to see, exactly? His defences? That he could do. His attacks? Maybe! He lunged forward, going straight for her toes with his elongated sabar fangs. "Speech"

She grinned as the boy set to his defenses, nodding for each of his proper forms. The wings could be an excellent distraction in the heat of battle, or perhaps he could use them for a more agile dodge and weave… his weight distribution and basic positioning were fine as well, but could use the solidity of adulthood — which would come in time. She thought briefly to herself that she could have used a teacher when she was younger, instead of the erratic style she learned from her own father. The skills she had to date were all bits and pieces she had acquired from her time being beaten up herself, or watching fights from a distance.

But the boy did surprise her. Instead of her needing to clarify for him to attack her, he was lurching forward already. Absinth took it as seriously as she could, but she was facing a pup who chose her toes as his first target— so. There was that. The woman let him get close, eying the Sabre fangs that his grandfather also possessed. This, she wondered, if it was the same advice Sirius had given her. Go for the toes, cut the space between. With a smirk she danced to the side from his attack, and waited for his next move; if he had one. “Come on, what else have you got?” The monochromatic woman encouraged, snapping her jaws upwards in the air as her charcoal tail whished side to side.

wormwood

She danced away from his first attack, and he skidded to a stop. Looking up at the taller wolf with a speculative look. She wanted to see what he had, right? He let his wings drift closer to his side for a moment, and a pinched look came over his face as he reset his defences. Sometimes it was hard to remember all these different body parts and what they were supposed to be doing.

Attempting to do so without warning, he leapt forward suddenly again. This time he launched himself full force towards her, and flipped his wings out as he approached. As he reached her he attempted to clap his wings together above his head, in an attempt to smack them against her head to confuse or distract her. Or at least keep her from seeing the rest of him. Then he attempted to grab at her knee with his teeth.


"Wylan Fatalis"

Absinth watched the gears turn in the boy’s head, and he readjusted himself in kind. His face got a particularly amusing expression as he contemplated his next move. She wanted to see if he would adapt, if he would throw a fit. Neither happened. Instead the boy erupted in motion, launching himself towards her with a flash of those wings of his. As he reached her, she had half a mind to swat at him when it felt like a bird slapped her in the face – feathers blocking her vision in a flurry.

She felt his little puppy teeth grab hold of her, and she rumbled out a pleased chuckle. As the dust settled Absinth would peer down at his, unmoving from her stance. “Oh, that was surprising. Good. Fight too straight-forwardly and you’ll only get predicted. Always keep the guessing, Wylan. Never follow a pattern.” She cooed lightly to him.

wormwood

He looked up at the unmoving wolf, and slowly let his teeth slide out of her fur while maintaining eye-contact. At least his dad had the good manners to act like he was dying when Wylan got a hit in. He sighed softly, this wolf seemed hard to impress. “Be unpredictable. Okay,” He said agreeably, as he let himself fold back into a sitting position in front of her again. Still looking up into her green eyes.

“You said this was a lesson about the real-teas of battle. How’s that different from a normal lesson?” He asked at last, feeling as if perhaps he should have asked this question earlier. Maybe she wasn’t impressed because he wasn’t going about this lesson right. Was there something more he should be doing?


"Wylan Fatalis"

A chuckle. The boy was so mild mannered, she wondered just why Sirius had been so worried about him. He seemed like a perfectly malleable little mind, and so eager to absorb knowledge like a sponge. She fought the impulse to regard the boy as endearing, and instead switched her train of thought to his question. Yes. She had said that, but she had wanted to test his actual ability first, and where he was in his development of a technique. But he wanted to get to the point of it all, the truth about battle. Well. Hopefully he didn’t get scared, or sad. “Realities. You said you were learning about guts. Battles can be fun. Thrilling. Your blood pumps fiercely, you feel both heavy and weightless at the same time. But it’s not always fun, Wylan. Do you have a family to protect? Friends. Your pack.  The world and battle have two things in common, and that is they can be cruel. Do you know what cruel means? It means pain. Suffering. Death. If you can’t stand up to the challenge, if you can’t push yourself to always improve your skills – you won’t survive. Survival is everything, because you can continue on. What happens when a blacksmith strikes a blade?” Absinth asked, thinking perhaps he would better understand a metaphor since Armada had their marketplace and crafting down to a science.

wormwood

Wylan tilted his head and listened as Absinth spoke, trying to understand what it was she spoke of. The truth was, he simply had nothing to pull understanding from. Nothing to compare, no way to truly comprehend what loss was. He’d seen fright, when he’d gotten himself into a bad situation, and his father had charged in, sides heaving, nostrils flaring, to save him. He knew what fright looked like, subjectively. He had never really felt it himself. He’d felt adrenaline, and the rush of it. He only had one example, and so he readily chose to share it. “Like how my dad and his siblings feel when they talk about Grandmother's death?” He volunteered, his voice pitching at the end, turning it into a question.

Wylan was raised by gentle parents, in a pack surrounded by strength. Hunger, fear, survival. They were vague concepts to him. “The blade vibrates?” He asked, his voice quiet, because he wasn’t sure of the answer. His Uncle had spoken about him getting his own blade. Lefty had even mentioned them working on one together. But he hadn’t seen one forged in person yet.


"Wylan Fatalis"

Absinth nodded as the boy compared her words to an experience he’d had in his short life. This, she expected well enough, that he would not understand everything she spoke of – but she continued on though opting to use even simpler words from here on out. She gave a nod, assuring him that he was answering to the best of his ability. “Sadness. Pain. Yes. Sometimes we can stop the things that hurt us or our loved ones from happening, sometimes we can’t. But if you can change something, you should fight to do so.” Absinth peered down at the winged boy, trying to assess whether or not the topic was too heavy for him at his age.

Still she continued on her train of thought, that he would at least need to have the ideals that would help him later in life planted in his head. She was aiming to push him in the direction of molding himself into a strong man, like his grandfather. He didn’t need to suffer like the Warlord though, nor like her. But to one day understand that the edge he would need despite that would have to be something he created himself. In the form of indomitable willpower. She kept those thoughts to herself though, because it would just prattle around in his brain and be lost on the pup. “Not wrong. But you would think that it cracks under pressure, right? Only it doesn’t ever break. It strengthens, and is turned into a fine blade after all those hits. Be the blade that survives the fire and comes out stronger.” Absinth clarifies, offering the answer back to him without diminishing his answer. At the same time, she gives him a confident little smile, waiting to see if that got through to him.

“Some of my words might not make sense to you now, and that's fine. But one day it’ll be up to you to understand them as you get older. Just remember them.“ Perhaps though, she had drifted from her original lesson… Ah, well. She had to stay and teach him for a few more days, there was time to refine just what exactly would be best to impart to the boy.

wormwood