Current Energy: 21
Friday, January 7th, 2011
Hebert Household
Another day, another freakishly huge meal for your Master. You would comment on the topic but the last time you did she sent you a glare so strong you felt actual pain for a second - and that was before you learned that your Master is the spiritual equivalent of a small nuke.
The morning precedes roughly apace with what you have become accustomed too. Taylor works her way through an impressive breakfast, Daniel is passive-aggressive at you, and neither of them knows what to talk about when there's nothing wrong. They both try of course. But it's so stilted and flat that you can see them both experiencing physical pain for the experience.
Regardless, once the usual morning routine in the Hebert Household is complete, you find yourself looking forward to another day of brutal, probably very unsafe training. It is a weird sensation, wanting to do unfathomable violence to someone you care about in order to prevent someone else from doing the same, but it is one you are quickly coming to appreciate.
You are just starting the arduous process of finding a sufficiently sharp stick for your Master to practice trying to kill you with when you notice her staring at the homes single phone with a pinched expression on her face. It is only at this point that you recall her original stipulation for calling those Protectorate guys you beat up - having Spiritual Power of her own to defend herself with.
You quickly weigh the pro's and con's. On the one hand, swordfighting. It really does stand up on it's own as an explanation. On the other hand, the chances of any given person with powers getting into a fight when they encounter someone else with powers is so unbelievably high most of the time that you can't help but be sort of attracted to the idea of going to see the spandex squad again. And it is what your Master wants after all...
"Just call 'em." You say plainly, gesturing helplessly at the phone with a hand when your Master shoots a curious glance your way.
"Are you sure? I know I said we'd go when we were done training but-" She says and you cut her off with a snort.
"Done training? Training is never 'done'. I've got so much to show you! Don't you wanna know exactly how hard to headbutt a guy to kill him? I can teach you that!" You explain quickly, excited at the prospect. Swordfighting? No, you've changed your mind. You want to teach your Master how to end her enemies with her fists. That way she'll never be unarmed.
"Hello? This is Taylor Hebert? You wanted me to come in sometime this week?" You hear as you are suddenly broken out of your thoughts by your Master's voice. She is very studiously not looking at you as she makes the phone call, and there are slight cracks in the floor where she obviously moved just a bit faster than was necessary to reach the phone from the table.
"This afternoon? Y-yes that would be- no I don't have one yet um. Do I need one? I- I'll try and have it figured out by then. Thank you." She continues her one sided conversation, finally hanging up with a sigh.
"They want us to come in this afternoon, around four." Taylor explains to you as she turns to find you eyeing her with one eyebrow raised.
"Eh, that still leaves a good- ten hours for us to train?" You say, already trying to figure out how to organize things for maximum effect. Just look at the effects of your other training method! Your Master should totally have died by now but instead, look at her! Strong enough to pulp a car with one hand! You are so glad this Emulation had all that information on training methods for fighting better stored away!
"I need a costume! They said so!" Taylor blurts out, stepping slightly away from you, her face pale.
"Can't you just... I dunno, put a bowl on your head or something?" You ask forlornly. You think you might actually hate the Protectorate right now.
"No! What if the Wards are there? I can't show up looking stupid!" She blurts out, affronted by your statement.
"Fine. Just... uh... hang on I have something for this." You grumble, pulling off your white Captain's cloak and draping it over her shoulders. You're so much larger than your Master that the cloak is basically a huge shroud on her, but it otherwise fits, if a bit loosely.
"Sew some pockets into that for your stuff and wear a mask if you have to." You say with a shrug, scratching your chin lightly.
"It's... a bit bright... and I don't think walking around with a Japanese character on my back is a good idea," Taylor says uncomfortably shrugging around in the oversized bit of clothing.
"Dye it?" You say with a shrug. "Your gonna want a cloak with a buncha pouches and crap anyway. No telling who I'll be after this guy - you might end up with a lot of stuff to hold onto."
"Maybe..." Taylor says after a moment of consideration, shucking off your cloak and tucking it under one arm before dashing off to the basement at a controlled pace that thankfully doesn't pulp the floor beneath her.
Despite yourself, you can't help but be slightly excited for her. Sure the costumes are stupid, but nothing she comes up with based on your outfit could be that bad.
By the time you've drifted down the stairs to examine whatever it is she's doing, you arrive to find Taylor hurriedly digging through the plethora of discarded objects in the basement that her Father refuses to get rid of for some unspecified reason. Eventually, she lifts a hand into the air triumphantly, holding a sealed plastic bag with a few jars of something in it.
"I used to have to go to Summer Camp every year. We used to dye our shirts and do other handicrafts like that, so I have some of that stuff down here." She explains helpfully, before returning to shuffling about the basement.
"Great so that's settled, we can train-" You begin before Taylor blurts out again.
"Still need a mask though! And I'll have to watch this while it dries!"
Okay fine. You clearly aren't going to be able to push her on this so you might as well let her get it over with.
Several hours of watching your Master fiddle with bits of clothing later, and she finally stands before you in an eclectic combination of clothing that you... actually you don't have an opinion on fashion. Like pretty everything else that isn't fighting, your Emulation simply never formed an opinion on the topic. Even the Protectorate wearing spandex only irks him because spandex has no inherent value in combat.
"So... what do you think?" Taylor asks hesitantly as she patiently hops from foot to foot under your gaze.
It's... something all right. She's somehow managed to dye your cloak a loamy brown and has affixed it at the shoulders to a similarly coloured sweater of some sort. She's wearing loosely fitted jeans, in addition to a pair of slightly too large boots that you guess probably once belonged to her father, and at her waist are two crossed work belts like one might see at a construction site, each one lined with pockets and pouches. A single strip of brown cloth is affixed around her face with holes cut in it for her eyes to peer through, and her glasses are clearly perched on the front of them.
Basically, not only is the outfit of middling quality, it doesn't appear to serve it's intended purpose of obscuring her identity. Her very distinct flowing brown hair is clearly visible, and her glasses could fall off at any moment.
Which is all entirely secondary to the roiling waves of discomfort and shame roiling off your Master as you examine her. And doesn't that just decide it for you? She can get a better tailored outfit later. For now, though, this is the most amazing costume ever, or else. So sayeth Emmy.
"It's great! I like what you did with the uh... belts?" You offer, managing to inject at least enough enthusiasm into your voice to alleviate your Master's sense of discomfort.
"Dad had a bunch of them lying around from old job sites. I was thinking I would sew some into the cloak later." She says impishly.
"Great. So." You say finally, causing Taylor to freeze in place.
"...training?" She asks weakly.
"Yes." You whisper back pleasantly, glancing at the clock in the hallway. You have about four hours until you have to be wherever the Protectorate keep their clowns for display, so you can probably eke out three hours of training if you're good about it.
One must train in what one wishes to fight in after all.
"I hate you," Taylor grumbles at you as you leap over buildings and streets towards what she says is the correct location to meet the Protectorate.
"Aw come on don't say that!" You complain, idly changing directions mid-air to catch your Master and set her down on the rooftop she was aiming at without being prompted. You had been doing this for most of this trip so far. It isn't that you Master is bad at judging distances per say, merely that she hadn't even considered trying to travel by rooftop until you pointed out it would be faster than the bus.
Of course, that had sparked a series of arguments about visibility and such, that ended with you two travelling several blocks on foot for her to change in the bathroom at a local park, but in the end, you like to think that your Master is enjoying herself.
"You threw rocks at me!" She whines, rubbing at her shoulder where a particularly hard throw had probably bruised her slightly.
"Yeah well, it was that or use my sword." You point out as you both land in front of the perfectly generic-looking gray building in the middle of the downtown area with a dull thump and a displacement of air.
"Do you have any training methods that aren't just attacking me with stuff till I learn them?" Your Master asks rhetorically as she quickly walks towards the buildings' front door to avoid the attention your abrupt landing has drawn from those nearby.
"Nah. Takes too long." You admit freely.
"You were just going to attack me with your sword to teach me how to sword fight weren't you?" She asks with a resigned tone as you enter.
"Probably." You reply, looking around the lobby of the building you have stepped into.
It's big and full of people just sort of... milling about. Directly across from the entrance is a large bank of desks with different attendants answering people's questions and directed them throughout the area. To your right is a fairly ostentatious looking entrance to what appears to be a toy store, and to your left is a closed steel door that occasional opens to disgorge men and women wearing black fatigues as they exit the building.
Taylor pulls you directly up to one of the desks and waits patiently for the attendant to notice her before clearly reciting;
"I've lost my cat and need Eidolon to help me find it." The receptionist nods at this. Your Master nods back.
You stare at her like she just spit on you.
'What?' She asks you mentally.
'The hell was that?' You ask, quickly schooling your facial expression and following after your Master as the attendant steps out from behind the desk and begins to lead you further into the building.
'I don't know! They told me to say it at the door!' Taylor answers immediately, although you can tell she's a bit flustered about it now that you've called her out on the topic.
You are just about to apologize for that when a stern voice calls out to you from the end of the hallway.
"Line Drive and...?" The idiot in the white and blue armour asks, directing his question at your Master. You want to snort and tell him to piss off, but a sudden wave of admiration and glee flowing off your Master forces your mouth shut. Because of course, your Master would like the stupidest looking one of these clowns.