Louise Françoise le Blanc de la Vallière downed her glass of water with a resigned sigh.
Some part of her entertained reaching for the liquor, but that just would not do. She was still on Academy's public grounds, right in the middle of the Vestri Court, trying and failing to enjoy a midday lunch in peace. She had to remain as sober as she could, considering just how unruly her Familiars were.
...plural. How did she, a Zero with no magical skill to her name, manage to summon not one, not two, not even three – but nine people all at once? Only one of them had the Familiar runes, and he was fast to voice his displeasure in a voice of a shaved bear – before the chatter exploded into gossip, confusion and laughter.
...nine commoners. Nine commoners all dressed in red for some Brimirforsaken reason, and it was up to her to wrangle them like she was a shepherd disciplining her unruly sheep. Naturally, none of the nine actually took to being Familiars with any sense of decency or gratitude. At least the jeering and ridicule from her peers eased up somewhat after Professor Colbert pointed out that a success is a success, and there is no need to call her a Zero any longer (nor that there ever was, he stressed: watching Zerbst and her sycophants shrink a little under his gaze was well-worth it).
And yet, ever since she summoned a gaggle of what was probably some odd mercenary unit, no spells of hers succeeded. She was still blowing up even the simplest cantrips, and the usual suspects (minus Kirche, oddly enough) picked up on the fact fast enough. Still, her "designated" Familiar was at least kind enough to ensure these jeers would only occur out of his earshot.
Watching Common Cold try his best to turn himself outside out to escape the withering glare from a man twice his size too was satisfying. This was Louise's lot in life now: small fleeting pleasures that did little to assuage the main problem. A Zero continued to be a Zero, and now with this motley crew of hers, her nerves were coming apart.
"THAT IS IT!"
"Oh dear. Looks like Guiche is being a man for once." Kirche hummed curiously from over her own lunch. Louise was grateful she had just finished her glass of water, else they would add "bad table manners" to the repertoire of things she was accused of. She peered over to where one of her "familiars" - the youngest of the nine, but still likely ten years her senior, at best; lanky, confident, with a face screaming "punch me" - was having a tense stare-down with the Academy's local heartthrob.
Well, calling it a "stare-down" was somewhat inaccurate, considering the manboy in red seemed much more interested in his slice of cake (that he inevitably pouched off someone's table, Louise thought) than his soon-to-be opponent. "I've had it with your incessant boorish flirting!" Guiche growled, pointing his rose hand at the offender. "There is a time and a place, and you possess neither nor the station! Frankly, I should have you flogged! If Vallière cannot deign to discipline you, then I will!" The man in red finished his cake without a care in the world, putting the plate back down, idly stretching and doing all kinds of minor little things to delay his answer to an increasingly agitated Guiche.
"Who are ya again?" He finally asked, and the blond's anger gave way to utter bafflement. "Oh yeah, dat guy two-timin' two pretty ladies." Scratch that, back to anger. (and a touch of realization that suddenly his grounds for complaint were much less firm than expected)
"That's… that's different!"
"Well, since ya already said it… I'll leave ya to them." The gentle, reassuring pat on the shoulder would be taken as completely out of context, were it not for both Montmorency and that freshman (Katie, Louise believed her name was?) making a beeline to the heartthrob. Huh. That was actually much smarter than she would have suspected the errant manboy in red to have done. "See ya past yer whippin'!" And then he was gone, strutting away without a care in the world. Guiche, oblivious to his impending doom, took a step to stop the insolent commoner – but he didn't get very far.
"He is being an incessant boorish flirt, true… but that was quite clever." Kirche hummed thoughtfully. Oh yeah, another mystery of the world: the manboy in red – misleadingly called The Scout, because Louise refused to believe anyone who loved the sound of their own voice so much would be able to scout anything – was among the few men her redheaded rival was completely turned off by. Frankly, she didn't think such men existed until yesterday.
"Scout is smarter than he lets on. He could stand to be like this more often, frankly." Louise jumped in her seat with an inelegant squeak of surprise when another of her merry troupe – a more-appropriately named Spy – appeared out of thin air. "But I suppose solving problems with gratuitous violence is just more exciting on the whole."
"D-don't… don't do that!" The man quirked his eyebrow ever so slightly at their new "master"'s reaction. They still had to work out the kinks on that one – and keep Soldier from finding out he's not in Kansas anymore, so to say. The redhead took better to their quirks than the pinkette, merely offering a charming smile.
"Now, to make sure your slighted peer doesn't do something we all will regret..." And then he vanished just like he came here, with a quiet "woosh" and the barely audible sound of his footsteps heading where Scout went.
"...hm. I wonder if Guiche would actually do something foolish." Kirche hummed, watching the aforementioned heartthrob being put through hell by two women scorned.
"Like what? Challenge me to a duel?"
"Not you, probably – but your Familiar, perhaps?" If The Scout was her familiar proper, Louise might have found the idea positively dreadful. A Mage challenging a non-Mage to a duel? There was no better example of a one-sided fight. Yet, with nine grown men to wrangle, she could only offer an indifferent shrug. Perhaps teaching the manboy some humility would go a long way, as long as Guiche wouldn't do something too outrageous like try to kill him (which would no doubt get him in trouble as well).
"Honestly, it sounds like entertainment." She sighed, finished with her lunch. "Ah, is Flame not with you?"
"No, not at all. I'm afraid I've been upstaged as a creature of flames by one of your own." Ah yes, The Pyro. The weird thing that had no gender, spoke no language, and had too much a fascination with fire to a point that even the others in the group were disturbed. He (It?) got along with Kirche's salamander like house on fire. Hopefully nothing would burn from this partnership. Or at least, nothing too valuable (or alive).
"And that Gallian bookworm of a friend of yours?"
"Her name is Tabitha, first of all. And no, she's been taken too." The two of them decided to leave Vestri Court behind, heedless of the excited hushes of both freshmen and servants alike. "That doctor with a questionable doctorate captured her attention too. I've only you to cry my sorrows to, little Louise~"
"Don't let it get to your head."
As it turned out, the duel did happen. Well, something akin to a duel.
Louise only heard of the event from her "proper" Familiar later on, once Kirche was done doing her hair into a new coif (eh, why not? It's a change of pace). The giant of a man – simply called Heavy, which seemed just a touch impolite from his peers, she thought – informed her that after a rather disastrous showing on Scout's part, the "screaming eagle" (Soldier – who was insane even among this insane group, was Louise's understanding) jumped in from nowhere and snapped the neck of the Valkyrie Guiche set out against the manboy.
Proclaiming the fight as "un-American", it suddenly became two-on-one; or rather, two-on-however-many-Guiche-could-make (Louise had yet to understand what "American" was; her "familiars" were unwilling to explain so far). With the element of surprise gone, the two mercenaries were easy prey to an increasingly irate Guiche. Yet, before he could do something reckless, Spy simply showed up behind him, pressed a knife to his neck and simply said the duel is finished.
"That does sound like something he'd do." Louise of old might have been affronted by the sheer gall to interrupt the Mage duel in such a barbarous way, but perhaps it was a lesson for Guiche as well. As long as he didn't demand satisfaction from her, and Heavy's recount made it obvious that he won't, all should be well.
"So, what now?" The giant asked her. "Is there a way back home?"
"Not that I know of." Louise shook her head. Now that he had some time to stay here, Heavy was less hostile to the general idea of staying here – even if he still didn't like the runes. "...I apologize. I understand this is hard for you."
"It's trouble, yes. Not first time mage does that." The pinkette blinked, suddenly very curious about that particular story. Seeing the change on her face, Heavy nodded sagely. "Long story. Still, you apologized. Week ago, you were ready to whip at the question."
"...I… well..." He wasn't wrong. "It's hard for me too. You and your team are my… sole… magical accomplishment." Oh god, that felt pathetic to say.
"I do not know if that speaks well of you."
"Well, you are the one Founder saw fit to mark with the runes, so maybe it could have been worse. It could have been Scout." Oh Brimir. "Or that savage who throws his own urine at people." Poor Siesta. The mental scarring would permit long after her maid outfit was restored to functionality. Heavy chuckled dryly, seemingly in agreement with their new Master/Boss (maybe she could just become their new Administrator for the time being. She certainly had more humility to her name).
"...whatever happens, I hope you can bear with me – and that I can bear with you." Louise rubbed her temple. A giant hand came to meet her, stretched out for a handshake.
"Then we are in agreement." The Heavy nodded. "I am Mikhail." She blinked, not comprehending the words before recognition dawned on her. His name, a real one. A show of trust that she wasn't sure if she had earned from the group yet.
Slowly, she returned the handshake, trying not to think of what would happen if he squeezed her hand too strongly. "...I am Louise. It's nice to meet you."
TF2 x FoZ has been on my mind for a while now, so I decided to pour some of that onto the metaphorical paper. With my big fics currently standing still, I just wanted to write down something small and unassuming. Whether this will be expanded upon, I do not know; but there will be no sprawling narrative here - only silliness and Louise struggling to adjust to having nine loons under her employ.
Hope it's to your liking. c: