sunnydalealum (
sunnydalealum) wrote2009-11-26 10:27 pm
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The Wells Farm
Jordie's learned a lot of things since the woman from the Watchers' Council first found her and told her what she was. Not all of them were learned at the Slayer Academy; and of those that were, not all of them were part of anyone's lesson plan.
This week, she's learning how to muck out goats.
This week, she's learning how to muck out goats.
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"Guess we need to work on that, then." he says, patting her shoulder a bit, "See, thing is? The Council is fanatic. They have to be, because they have to send little girls to do things they can't. Can't be entirely sane to send girls half your age to fight an' die before they get to be your age. Means that it's up to all of you to keep the balance, but they forget to teach you that."
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"We are not," and her voice shakes with suppressed anger, "little girls. We're Slayers."
Her knuckles whiten on the handle of the pitchfork.
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"So what's so great about being a teenage human girl?" she demands.
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"I had a lot of that." Very soft. "At the Academy. Not all of it, but ... I had that. I had someone I wanted to be like later."
Her eyes are dry, and burning.
"I had someone I wanted to be like, and she's dead now."
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"So that's it, then? Kennedy died, so you've got to put aside everything that isn't death an' killing?"
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"She would've done this for me. For, for any of us."
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Her grip on the pitchfork handle has changed again; she's brought it closer to her chest, almost hugging it.
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Her voice is still unsteady, and she doesn't sound at all sure of herself anymore.
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She wraps her arms around her midsection and turns her face away, eyes pressed shut.
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"More than a Slayer?" she repeats finally, sounding a little doubtful.
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He's got Issues against sending little girls into battle, okay? It's a thing.
"You're a person, Jordie. Not a bloody weapon. Weapons, tools, people. Weapons kill shite. Tools fix shite. People decide what needs to be done an' collect whatever weapons and tools are needed to do it, then go do it. The Council trained you into a weapon. Up to you to decide that you're going to be more than that."
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"There isn't anything else I want to be," she whispers, finally.
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The thought's so clear in her head that for a moment she's horribly certain that she's said it aloud.
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He'd agree, though. He's not for her. He's a one-woman wolf, and even if he was once a more wild human...well, she met him long after that wasn't an option any more.
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"I should get back to work," she says, very low.
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