Pink and Punishments

[Vae]

This happens directly after Consillium

The portal between the jungle and the grassy plain of West's ranch shimmered slightly. The difference in temperature, humidity, and pressure was tangible; passing through was like rising out of a pool, cooler, lighter. The high sun shifted suddenly, falling lower, earlier, and the shadows swung outward.

In a smooth motion, West ejected the MP5's cartridge and shouldered the weapon, slipping the cartidge into a belt. He wiped a hand across his forehead, and took off the sunglasses before turning to Vaeltia.

"Apprentice."

West wrestled with his thoughts, thinking of his training, arcane and military, wondering what would work with Vaeltia, with the shadow of Animus still looming. To temper, without breaking.

"What you do reflects on me, for better or worse. As long as I am your Master, I will support you and take full responsibility for whatever you do. Do you understand?"



The change of location didn’t really worry her, it was the fact she had left her car near the campus that worried her; but she would get it in time. Instead she just stood steps to the side and behind her Master. The feeling of worry permeated her mind and it kept her silent.

When he spoke, it pressed on her, making her feel small at the sound of his voice, especially after the moments of silence. It wasn’t harsh like the tone he had used in the jungle, but it had a similar affect and she shrunk back slightly at the sound before she regained her composure.

“I’m sorry, and... yes, sir, I do understand."



West nodded, but didn't move.

"I wish things had been differnet with your training, with you being gone. Things I still need to learn about you, and about what you know, or don't know, now. What you did... was it losing your temper? Or a lack of respect? Or not knowing what was expected, and the directed protocol, the Right of Emeritus?"

He paused again, and tapped his chest with the hand that held his sunglasses.

"Or did you think it was justified? Have I done something to make you think I need to assert my ability or authority?"

His voice was calm, and there was a slight curisity in his eyes: it wasn't a rhetorical question.



Respect...Honor

She let a breath and raised her head to look at him. “I do understand about respect, West; that wasn’t it.” she pauses for a moment, working over words in her head. “I guess it was just uncontrolled anger, I know what was expected, I think.... But I couldn’t hold my tongue.”

She paused, her eyes traveling away from him, slightly in shame but also in nervous embarrassment. “To a point I think my words were justified though. I have always been told that rebukes shouldn’t necessarily be public at first. True looking at the situation, the fault was public so the rebuke should be equally public. And the Hierarch had no grounds for what he decided; despite his position. In truth, I think you did the right thing...” she was looking at him again. “I-I’m just not so sure that the timing was correct.”

She dropped the bag she was carrying, and began to fiddle with the strap.



Anger.

Briefly, he considered asking her if she'd ever seen the Star Wars trilogy, but remembered her reference to Jedi. Anger, Pride.

"Anger it is, then. Every time you lose your temper, you'll come here, take the axe from the barn, and go chop down a fence post," he said, pointing to the fence that ringed his property. He added a couple of vertical slashes of his hand so that she'd know he meant a post and not a rail. "Starting with your first one after we're done talking. You will not repair any post you knock down."

"As for Animus, we are... many things to one another. He is my Hierarch; I am his Magister," he continued, and held up a finger.

"But I was also Sentinel. We spoke once about protection. When is protection needed? When the crime is being committed, or afterward?"

Again, the tone was calm, and slightly curious, as he posed the question, his interest in her answer clear.

[West (The Mage)]

“But...” she began, her head snapping back up, confusion plainly showing in her eyes.

Destruction of property, of protection... I don’t want to do that.

Her words were cut short as he continued to speak. Her eyes this time drifted to the fence and the desire to not cut the posts down filled her.

“Both.” she said, still looking at the posts. “Protection is needed both as crime is being committed and afterwards. But also before it starts.” she breathed out momentarily and looked up at him again, her face showing shame and a twinge of something else.

“I don’t want to destroy your fence, Sir.” her voice was soft, and low with just a hint of emotion. “Fences are protection, and I don’t want to take yours away. At least not without the ability to rebuild it.”



"Yes," West agreed, not really interested in debating the semantics of 'before' or 'during'. He wan't great at picking words; she knew what he meant.

"There will be... a lot of people who probably don't approve of what I did, or wish I'd done it another way. But... I don't think there's anyone that would say the Sentinel did not uphold the law. Maybe there was a better way, but I can Swear an Oath before anyone that my only intent was to protect the Consilium, and that I did it the best I knew how."

West shrugged. He was no diplomat, or politician. It was one of the reasons he would no longer carry the title of Sentinel. He also didn't mention that if anyone claimed questioning the Hierarch diminished the office, he would answer the office was diminished by needing to be questioned; but this wasn't about Animus.

He looked back out at the fence and nodded.

"And anger makes us vulnerable. Clarity of thought, clarity of intent: the Supernal is Self. Do I need to show you how to use the axe?"

The question was sincere, and there was a hint of concern under his tone. He didn't particularly want a one footed Apprentice.



“I know how to use an axe, Sir” she said softly, her voice only just starting to crack. “I just don’t want to. You know what protection means to me, why make me do this?” The thought was consuming her, it was forcing a more than normal response, as her own mind had gone through a wide spectrum of conflicts

Tears began to well up in her eyes, not yet overflowing but present none the less. She stared down at her own shoes, not willing to turn away from him, and yet also unwilling to let him see her cry.



Like most men, West was vulnerable to tears. There were some things he was inflexible about, but disciplinary action wasn't one of them. Instructing and traumatizing were two different things.

Great, I'm going to make her cry. Way to go.

It wasn't lost on him that she could be faking it. He'd learn, maybe, if she was. But he'd asked her a long time ago to trust him, and so he trusted her.

"Okay," he agreed. "No fence."

There was a pause, he came up empty trying to think of an alternative, something for the future, but nothing came. It felt terribly awkward, and he turned back towards the barn and began walking.

"Come on," he encouraged her to follow. "Tell me what you thought, of the meeting."



She blinked back the excess tears, willing them to stay where they were. “No.” she said firmly, her voice tuned above normal as she forced the emotions back into check. “You haven’t told me why, yet. Because if there is a reason, I should .... I should do it, I just want the permission to rebuild what I destroy.”

Conviction...Willingness. The Sunhawks wouldn’t let me walk away, it would be an all or nothing situation. West, you might not know now, but you will. I need to follow through.

She brushed her eyes, clearing the last of the tears but unable to push the frown from her face. She breathed, continuing the calming ritual she had taken to using, pushing the emotions away for the explosion that would happen the next day.

She had to run to catch up to him, both surprised and not about the change of topics. “Truly? It was drawn out too far, the order wasn’t something I would have seen in Chicago. Compared to the Windy City, you can tell that this is a fledgling Consillia.”

[Vae]

"Why..."

West slowed, and turned.

"Sometimes things don't work if you know why. But, OK, I've never asked you to do something like that," he said, studiously ignoring the hand at her eyes.

"Why, is because I want you to do something that hurts. Because that's one thing that anger leads to: pain. Loss. I want you to do something I can step outside, and see, so I know how your training is going. I want something that will build your body, make you stronger, while you do it. I wanted something that you did to affect someone else, to teach you causality, And I wanted something that would piss you off, at having to do, so you could learn to control it in small doses, and would recognize it in larger ones," he continued, explaining.

He sighed. "And now that you know why..." West shrugged, signifying that some of the 'why' were now invalidated.

He reached out, as if to to touch her, but stopped, and made a pointing gesture.

"You would have fixed the fence, when I released you from your Apprenticeship. You said you would trust me, little flame. If we're going to do this, you have to trust me, and I have to trust you."



She nodded, agreeing with his reasons. There had been similar lessons in the past. “I... It’s hard, still.” she said, twisting her words and sentence. “It’s still hard to trust, but I want to trust you.”

She felt his words weighing down on her shoulders, adding to the weight of her own shame.

“And... It’s only right that I take that punishment, those lessons. I don’t want to do it, but that’s the point, right? I should, because of how much I value protection; that is what will get the idea across.” She sighed, it was difficult to stay those words, she didn’t want to agree with him, but it was only right.



West thought about it for a moment. The fence might not serve the whole purpose, but it might serve part of it, and part of another. A small part of him wondered if she was moving further from the girl who'd Awoken; less trusting, as she became more confident in her power. Or maybe because there hadn't been enough reasons given?

"OK." The word summed up agreement and acknowledgement of what she'd said.

"Let's try something different, then. I... don't want to associate something negative, or devalue something important to you. That's... not what discipline is for. What's your least favorite color?" As he spoke, he shifted the weight of his pack slightly, and nodded back toward the house to begin walking again.



“You could always just attack me like Song did.” she whisper-mumbled. Those sessions had worked, at least on one side of the fence, and it had hammered some points across, even if it did make her a little wary at times.

“Um... Least favorite color? I’m an artist I don’t exactly have a least favorite color, I'm not even sure if I have a favorite color. I mean, I’m not overly fond of Pink, some orange shades, the neon yellow-green, grey and that really icky blue-green that shows up in moldy bread.” she counted out the colors on her fingers as she thought. “Why?”

She could see where he was going with the fence idea, but the color thing had totally thrown her for a loop. “You don’t have to answer that.” she said as she moved to follow him. “I can trust you.”

[West (The Mage)]

No, I can't.

The day they had talked about the Orders, he'd come to that conclusion. The knife, the protective instinct; she needed to learn to trust, even if it was just one person.

I will protect you until then.

"Pink it is, then," he smiled slightly, outwardly showing none of his thoughts.

"You'll sand it, and paint it, one rail at a time," West continued, this time making a side to side motion to indicate the part of the fence he was talking about. "So when you get ready to fly off the handle, you'll think of acres of pink fence. Deal?"



Pink

He just had to pick out the one that actually made her shudder, and at times want to vomit. But then it was dependent on the shade and the mere thought of acres of pink made her feel a little disgusted. If it was hot pink she could probably stand it, but she wasn’t about to let the thought pique her hopes.

On the up side he wasn’t making her wear that hideous color.

Her face twisted into an expression one usually reserved for the thought of picking up fresh dog poop with ones bare hands. “Deal.” Her voice wasn’t chipper, but more of a resigned sound; acknowledging and accepting the punishment.

And then her mouth continued to talk for her. “And the Posts? And what if it rains on a day I have to paint... you don’t actually have pink paint here, do you?” She grimaced again at the accursed four-letter color.



West answered the first two questions with a long, considering look. It was a look that clearly said 'You'll figure it out'.

"The paint, you'll probably have to go buy. Make sure you get weather resistant house paint."

In his defense, he wasn't particularly thrilled at the idea of being surrounded by pink fencing, but such were the sacrifices one made. He led the way up the steps of his porch and stamped his boots, knocking the jungle detritus off before setting down the pack by the door.

"As for the Consillium... you're right. The city is small enough it might be better served by dividing it up into protectorates overseen by individual cabals," West continued, shrugging. It was clear it was just an idea he was throwing out, and not something he was advocating.

"Have you thought about cabals?"

To be Continued...