#fighting fantasy

She sees herself – skirts torn and bloodied, tawny face streaked with soot and tears – carrying a child. If it's Ashbury, or Featherdown, or one of the others that didn't make it, it's impossible to tell; the child's face is pressed against her neck, leaving only mud-brown skin and lank dark hair visible. More notable, however – the child is ringed in a halo, blood red flecked with licks of gold like fire. The scene changes, and Oakrose sees her child swathed head-to-toe in brilliant gleaming armour. It's unlikely (though not impossible) to be Wickerswitch, leaving only Ashbury or Featherdown who clashs swords with a twiceling bathed in black. The aura is still there, the red has retreated to a band close to the body, the remaining space filled in with white, through which an assorted crowd in travellers clothes can be viewed. Once more, everything changes: her child is on a stage, starched straight in the blue of a Watchman's dress uniform. She doesn't recognise the unit designation her child wears; she does recognise the ornate band of gold being fixed to the uniform as that of a Captain's rank. Blazing from around the Chief of the Watch, her child's aura is gold this time – gold as the Captain's bars, gold as flowing honey – the red naught but a fine lacing against her skin. The Chief steps away, and Oakrose gasps again to see her child, her little Featherdown, standing proud in her blues and the unknown unit's badge blazing, blazing, blazing...

She startles upright as the vision ends, drawing in a deep breath as if coming awake from a long sleep. Oakrose wants what's best for her children. Of course she does. But terror grips her lungs, her heart. Sends shocks like thunder-zaps running through her limbs. Of course with Alexis' training, her little girl will have the right skills. Putting her in the Watch will sharpen her mind and feet. Her little girl will be able to fight, as shown by facing off against the twiceling in black armour. But she doesn't want that for her little girl, her little Featherdown, the child who pressed against her and sobbed for hours after she was found; Oakrose doesn't want her to know how to fight, doesn't want to send her off. The child deserves to stay in the grace of the Gardens, surrounded by civilised comforts and a mother's love.

The water in the lunchbox shivers through supernatural means. Oakrose looks down, and her vision fills again. This time, her baby girl is dressed in armour red as blood; her aura is hardly distinguishable against it. Her face is disfigured by scars and hatred both. She stands on a overturned cart, smoke billowing about her, through the dishevelled and motley crowd hanging on her every bitter word. The water shivers. Featherdown, with a mighty sword, hacks at an orc child where it stands sobbing, clutching a wooden toy. The water shivers. Featherdown, casting curdling, putrid magic at a group of goblin-wives. They fall, coated in angry blisters. The water shivers– "Enough!" cries Oakrose. The water shivers, and shows Featherdown standing on a series of cages, each filled with goblinoids and the like. Her outstretched hands fill with necrotic magic, pulled from the victims below. The aura surrounding her is so red it's black. The vision zooms out. Around her is a camp of rough tents, swarming with blackened mud and effluent and hateful-visaged twicelings. The perversion grips at Oakrose's heart; it looks too much like pit of Toreguard-that-Fell. "Enough," she croaks. "I've seen enough." Her dripping tears shatter the vision.

Carefully the water is poured at the feet of the nearest tree. Then she's stumbling to her feet, food and box and flask forgotten. She's running, rushing home, the gardens streak by around her. She has to speak to Alexis.

Additional context: I was talking with @aquadestinyswriting about how Elo managed to completely miss the Call to be a paladin for the longest time. As Aqua said - "[it's like] the gods were banging on her door while she had noise cancelling headphones on".

And I thought, what if the reason she missed it was because when it was sent she really wasn't ready for it? What if it got intercepted by someone else on her behalf?

I've long pondered why it may have been that Oakrose and Alexis decided to send Elo into the Watch, out of all the trades they could have picked. And I've always worked with the gut-feel that it would have been Oakrose's idea; Alexis just went along with it.

So to keep the analogy going: the gods banged on the door, Elo told them to f-off and put the headphones one, the gods then mentioned to her Mum they'd be back and what to do in the meantime. And then several years later one of them jerked awake in the middle of the night, swore loudly because they'd forgotten, and then sent the Call out again.

As they run, Merri wonders – not for the first time – why Elo's dwarvish accent is so strange. Elo speaks common with a standard Torejar accent. Many other Torejar who learnt from Fangthanian tutors speak with that accent. Hell, even Snotgrut doesn't sound too distant with his Anvil accent. Elo, on the flip side, despite being taught by Merri – herself having a Fangthanian accent – sounds more like someone from Kar Kherril...

"Meredith," Elo says sharply. "We must move." It's only then Merri realises she's stopped and is day-dreaming. "Of course." Elo frowns. "That talking to stone trick, can you do it here?" "Sorry, hen. We're too far from Fangthane-the-Elemental." A tut. "We're doing all sorts of things the old fashioned way today, one more won't harm." Which is an odd thing to say, but Elo doesn't give Merri any time to question it, as she's already moving them along.

They round a corner and are confronted. Elo goes in for the attack without even looking back to see if Merri wants in. Clearly there's some cruft she needs to work off. In the light of the phosphorescent globes lining the corridor, Merri leans against a wall and watches the fight; how the shimmering green glints off Elo's bodice, a strange metal-like affair that has Merri twitching her head in confusion; how it traces her curves, highlights her powerful movements. Merri finds herself sighing – with Yoruk in the mix, what the three of them could do... Her thoughts slam into a mental wall. Ah... That'll be the blood-loss then...

"Elowyn." Elo delivers the final blow and turns back. "I've got a wee problem." Elo hurries over. "What's wrong?" "I think that fella managed t'stick me after all." Behind Merri, Elo sucks in an unhappy gasp. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?" "Y'were a little busy..." A thoughtful pause. "Yeah, that's fair. Can you heal yourself?" Merri tries to concentrate, but her connection to the divine – while still there – is metaphorically covered in grease. "Nay, I can't cast straight." "Right. No worries. We just need someplace to hole up for a bit." Merri blinks, and it seems that Elo has teleported. There's a fresh scratch on her arm and blood on her face. Elo catches hold of Merri's hand. "I found a room. Come on."