Maybe I'm just losing track of time, but the folks at Hogwarts seem to have plenty of it if Harry can just crash a great hall dinner with a Caramelldansen dance party and nobody minds.
BTW, wash Harry cosplaying as someone specific, or was that a genetic "sexualized anime high school girl" outfit?
Speaking of crossplay, I apologize if this is inappropriate but how much has puberty brought out Harry's body hair? I have a slightly visible stubble almost within hours of shaving, so I wonder if wizards have some magical means to keep it down..
my vote is that for the next one, he includes Hoppou, Seiko, and some of the FOL girls, and goes for a recreation of Hoppou's Youtube vid 'Shake it off' - they won't know whether to boggle or be afraid! (also the recording would be great PR for the FOL girls, with the right background.)
That's a really good point. And yes, Ehren is very humble when it comes to her piano skills. She's the type who hears the minor slip-ups with her music (such as being too forceful playing the soft notes) and misses the forest for the trees in that way by not seeing the beauty of the piece quite clearly.
Said dance mainly involving holding their hands above their head and opening and closing them as they swung their hips from side to side. Movement which made their skirts swish and caused more than one of the guys there to flush.
Harry, meanwhile, had the largest grin on his face as the three Duckies moved around to record, "Do-do-do-oo, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah~"
All three began to sing as one, "We wonder are you ready to join us now? Hands in the air, we will show you how. Come and try, Caramell will be your guide…"
What is seen cannot be unseen. Why did you go there great one. Well I guess my stock in brain bleach will go up. Confusion for all and want to bet some will be hooked on the music. Thank the gods of your choice it was not the macarena. Harry you are evil and I approve.
Honestly, why did they equip their crawler with a gun that requires what I can only assume is the LIFE FORCE of someone? Actually, why would someone make such a weapon in the first place? They could have just made a weapon that uses up all of the available power in the vehicle and leaves it helpless for long enough (ten turns or so) so that if it doesn't destroy the enemy, than the crawler is going to be destroyed by the enemy, leaving it as a weapon of last resort?
Mika swallowed the last bite of the 'double cowboy beefalo burger' that Delilah had recommended that she order. She looked across the table at her father, who was finishing off her own burger.
Delilah smiled and stood, handing a pair of twenty dollar bills to the waitress at the cash register along with their bill. "Keep the change as a tip, ma'am."
Mika joined her father as they walked down the main street of the small ranching and farming town. "So, what's a beefalo?" She asked her father as they reached the parking lot of the Western ware store that they had visited before grabbing an early dinner (and where she had picked up some outfits for Dennis, Rhodie, and the Beavers).
Delilah unlocked her truck. "Hybrid between beef cattle and bison. Generally it's a cattle bull and a female Pté of the Buffalo People. They are somewhat popular out here since they handle the savage winters better with a thicker coat."
Automatically the older Muramasa looked at the sky with a thoughtful squint. "I remember the Children's Blizzard of January 1888. It was fifty-eight below zero with a hurricane wind blowing the snow so hard that you couldn't see three feet in front of your face. Neighbor's whole herd of cattle froze to death over a ten mile stretch, and Lou and I barely got our horses and ourselves under shelter. Two hundred thirty-five people died in it across the Upper Plains, some of them children caught in their schoolhouses or doing chores. It was a rough winter for us then, snow was four-five feet or better most places before the spring thaw."
Mika nodded thoughtfully. "Harsh place to live, ayuh." She finally said quietly while looking at the tall fence posts and realizing why they had to be so tall. So there would be a fence to keep cattle in when the snow was that deep
"No shit." Delilah replied quietly as she pulled out and headed out of town. "But... it makes you tough as ten-penny nails and old boot leather to make it out here where we belong. You have to rely on each other out here to get through a tough season. If we were neighbors, I'd shelter your kid in a blizzard, because you might shelter mine the next time. Nature doesn't give a good goddamn who you are when you get a drought, or twister, or bad blizzard come through. Reckon that's the reason the locals back in Custer don't give a flying fuck that I'm a damnyankee from the Rotten Apple, and Zamarad's Muslim from the Middle East as girls married to each other who run a ranch up in the Black Hills. It's not what you are but who you are out here, and they know that they can rely on us when things go to hell and they need a hand we can provide. Or vice versa, of course. Spent the better part of a week summer before last helping contain a damn prairie fire on the Circle F Ranch, and the Lovells didn't ask any questions about the 'funny stuff' that happened when Zamarad and I pitched in to save their home and stockyard. Save to show up unannounced with a yearling steer next year right before our birthdays to be the guest of honor at our family barbecue."
Zamarad manifested in a swirl of flames from Delilah's wedding ring to sit next to Mika. "Indeed, that was a delightful surprise. Such a tender kibbeh nayyeh it made to help celebrate our birthday, along with some deliciously juicy prime rib and sirloin cuts!" The Ifrit smacked her lips with a fond grin at the memory of the unexpected late addition to the menu for their celebration.
Mika nodded thoughtfully, looking at the miles and miles of endless prairie as they drove back toward Del's ranch. "Yeah, not that different from being out on the line with Rhodie, the Beavers, and my sisters. Or sticking together to help each other out on the Rez. Saint Kitts was... rough. Real rough." She finally said introspectively.
"Want to talk about it?"Delilah asked quietly.
Mika sighed. "May as well. It was my first real battle. Second if you count my Awakening. I thought I knew what to expect, but it was like nothing I could have dreamed."
Delilah nodded. "Yeah, combat's like that. You really can never prepare for it, then you find out what you're made of. Good and bad."
Mika sighed, looking through the windshield at the peaceful wheat fields and ranches with her mind thousands of miles and weeks away in a bloody and desperate battle fought upon a storm-tossed sea.
"Anyway, I was leading my division at the point of Task Force Twenty Eight's battleship force when the radio squawked that there were Abyssals 'like fleas on a stray mutt' coming out of the hurricane that we were entering. Mobile made the first contact, but she took a bad hit from someone and had to fall back with her DesDiv to get medevaced. So Duke -- Duke of York -- ordered me and Rhodie to advance to one six zero to bail her out. First one I saw was a Ri-class cruiser pursuing her at twenty-one thousand yards on radar. First salvo of mine nailed her and it was like the Fourth of July. Big explosion and she was gone. But there were more behind her, too many to count." Mika said quietly. "After Duke ordered Maine, Louisiana, Musashi, and Ohio to support us, I heard her laugh and comment: 'Here they come, black as hell and thick as grass!' right before she gave the command for our battleline to cut loose. According to one of the Royal Navy cruisers I asked about that quote later in the repair baths, it's a famous sighting report from some British fight someplace."
Delilah listened to Mika's story of Saint Kitts. Finally as Mika's stream of words tapered off, she reached over and squeezed Mika's hand.
"Mika. I couldn't be prouder of you." The revolver barked a laugh and shook her head with a grin. "With accuracy like you're describing, you're definitely my kid. I've always been a hell of a shot." Zamarad nodded with a fond smile.
Mika chuckled with her own grin. "So that's where it came from! I've always been hell on wheels playing basketball. Scored twenty-seven consecutive points during the 1-AAA high school state regionals my sophomore year when we scored the upset over Portland Prep. Four three pointers, one from two feet behind the arc then. I was in the zone the whole second half. Inside, outside, rebounds, foul shots, it didn't matter; I couldn't have missed if I tried."
Delilah grinned. "That's my girl alright! In fact, that's why I got my Lakota name."
"Oh?" Mika asked. "I thought it was because of your... you know. Spy stuff."
Delilah shook her head. "Not hardly. It was thanks to an incident during my first trip out here in 1868 with Louise. Ilvermorny was out for the summer holidays, and she'd invited me to visit her family. So we grabbed our brooms and flew out here. Anyway, I was disguised as a fellow twelve-year old Lakota girl from the Bad Faces sept when a warrior made a move on Lou. "
Mika gasped. "No way!"
Del scowled. "He Dog had been drinking rotgut 'Injun whisky' and wanted to rape your mother. So I drew on him and Louise persuaded him to back down. But I had insulted him, so he challenged me that he would kill more Tȟatȟáŋka than I could during the hunt. Using a bow from horseback, not my true body."
Mika stared in shock. "You were only twelve though and he was full grown, right?"
"Yep." Del gained a smug smile. "So we rode four days to the East where scouts had sighted a large herd of the Buffalo People while I practiced mounted archery with the bow I had borrowed from Louise's brother Jack...."
Great Sioux Reservation (Modern-day South Dakota), Land of the Seven Council Fires
23 June, 1868 (Delilah's Second Year)
Delilah flexed her aching bicep then rotated her sore shoulder. Her borrowed bow was causing her pain when she practiced. But at least she was hitting her targets more often now, almost up to the standards she demanded of her marksmanship with her true body.
For whatever it would be worth when the time came to back up her boast.
If only she hadn't run her mouth off at He Dog!
If it was her true body, she had no doubt that she could win that challenge, and win handily.
But with a bow, and one that was sized for a larger boy with more muscles... she would be lucky to hit her Tȟatȟáŋka, much less put them down to feed the Lakota families around her. Not to mention, buffalo hunts were dangerous in the extreme.
Louise reined in alongside her, riding with the unconscious grace of a Lakota who had learned how to ride almost before she could walk. "Relax, Del."
Delilah sighed. "I'm trying, Lou, just...."
The Lakota girl gently punched her on the shoulder. "It's too nice a day to mope, Del! Race you to the stand of trees over there! C'mon Blizzard; Ai-yi-yi-yi-yi~!"
She suited actions to words, kicking her Appaloosa in the ribs to urge him to break into a gallop.
Delilah grinned and slapped White Leg on the rump as she followed. "I'll summon an apple for you if you beat that slowpoke pony Lou's on!" She urged her horse.
Laughing as they rode neck and neck, the two girls galloped across the prairie with grass flaming to emerald life under their hooves.
Finally they reined in at the stand of trees in a laughing happy mess. True to her word, Delilah summoned apples and a cube of sugar as they walked their horses to the stream that the trees were flanking. "Beat you here, Lou!" The Muramasa revolver smugged
Louise laughed, shook her head, and watered her horse. "Did not, Del!"
"Did too!"
A cough from behind them caused both girls to whirl.
Del's hand found the butt of her pistol as her eyes narrowed at the Lakota standing behind them.
Beside her, Louise had her wand out. Then her friend's eyes widened as she noticed the pure white feathers with electric blue tips that the warrior wore. Sparks of electricity popped and crackled from them.
Matching zigzag lines and patterns of white and blue on black and gray dominated the beadwork on his robe, leggings, and loincloth.
"Wakíŋyaŋ...." Louise whispered in awe and shock.
Without saying a word, the warrior nodded. He placed two bows crafted from Osage orangewood down on the ground in front of them. Two deerskin quivers, one dyed red and the other white filled with flint tipped cottonwood arrows fletched in Thunderbird feathers like those he wore followed.
Then he suddenly pointed behind them.
Delilah looked that way, then her head snapped back around as she realized what was going on.
He was gone, but a massive winged shadow blotted out the sun momentarily as thunder sounded.
She then looked down at the bows that had been left as gifts. She picked up the one for her along with the red quiver filled with arrows for hunting and war.
"Thunderbird. Thank you." Delilah said reverently, remembering her Sorting to Thunderbird House over a year ago at Ilvermorny.
Moving on instinct, her right hand reached back and pulled out one of her hunting arrows.
She soared through the middle of the deadly chaos like a great bird of prey.
The Thunderbird feather on her arrow tickled her cheek as she drew her bow.
Then she loosed in a perfect, brilliant moment that she would remember for all her life.
Her first arrow buried itself two thirds of the shaft deep in her targets hide when it stretched in the space between the massive ribs like a huge drum.
The Tȟatȟáŋka, a mature full-grown bull of a dozen winters weighing almost a ton and standing six feet at the shoulders, suddenly swerved.
The bull bellowed in agony, spraying his lifeblood into the air as his head jerked uncontrollably.
Her flint arrowhead had severed his aorta and pulmonary artery, drowning him in his heart's blood.
Dark scarlet blood painted his muzzle and mouth from the lethal death wound.
She guided White Leg with knee pressure past the dying bull, completely one with her galloping horse.
Delilah screamed in fierce joy once more, her doubts and worries fled from her in this moment.
The Tȟatȟáŋka crashed to the grass behind her.
Her hand found her next arrow.
Her eyes found her next Tȟatȟáŋka.
Delilah drew and loosed again...
...and again...
...and again!!
Finally, with her shafts spent and her quiver emptied, she guided White Leg free of the survivors' panicked flight.
Her orangewood bow was triumphantly held overhead in both hands and her exultant smug smile split her young face when she rode back toward the other Lakota participants in the Buffalo Hunt.
Delilah accepted the slaps on her shoulders and back that night around the council fire on the bluff.
She then took another bite of the freshly grilled liver of one of her bulls, the hunter's share that she had won with her skill and courage in the hunt.
The taste of the rich organ meat was causing her head to spin as she came down off the adrenaline high of the hunt.
She was exhausted, bruised, aching, and her hips and butt felt like she had been bouncing up and down on a sawhorse with weights tied to her ankles for most of the day.
But she couldn't remember a time when she had been happier, freer, more alive.
Red Cloud finally reached her.
His eyes looked across the gathered hunters as he pulled the young Muramasa to her feet with a hand on her arm.
"This young one has earned her name today with courage and skill in her first hunt! Among us she shall be Delilah Otaktay, killer-of-many-Tȟatȟáŋka!"
He Dog and Louise Winona were the first two of the Lakota to stand and cheer while Del's face split in a joyous grin.
Author's Note: Duke's quote at Saint Kitts is the sighting report from Rorke's Drift when the sentinel for the 150-some British soldiers dug in there saw 4,000 Zulus approaching to try to overrun their hastily constructed fort. Let it not be said that Duke doesn't 'get' the proud traditions that created an empire upon which the sun once never set.
Honestly, why did they equip their crawler with a gun that requires what I can only assume is the LIFE FORCE of someone? Actually, why would someone make such a weapon in the first place? They could have just made a weapon that uses up all of the available power in the vehicle and leaves it helpless for long enough (ten turns or so) so that if it doesn't destroy the enemy, than the crawler is going to be destroyed by the enemy, leaving it as a weapon of last resort?
Because the worst thing to have is to not have your weapon destroyed, but taken and commandereed by enemies. Then they can do all sort of neat (and horrible) tricks with it, including dismantling for tech or using it for False Flag ops.
Without saying a word, the warrior nodded. He placed two bows crafted from Osage orangewood down on the ground in front of them. Two deerskin quivers, one dyed red and the other white with both filled with flint tipped cottonwood arrows fletched in Thunderbird feathers like those he wore followed.
Okay, bringing divinely gifted weapons to an honor-depute hunting competition is probably cheating. But then, if you aren't cheating, you aren't trying. That, and you don't refuse divine gifts without very good reasons.
I'd like to give a big shout out to SisterJeanne for helping to lay out the groundwork for this scene. Without them, this snippet might have taken significantly longer to come out.
Regalia's breath hitched in her throat at the sight of the other Re-class charging her, with its hands crooked into claws.
Acting more on instinct than thought, she dove forward and past the feral lunging for her. She felt her tail slam into the other Re's kneecap with a shock that vibrated through her keel and a sickening crash of steel on steel. Glancing over her shoulder, she watched as the feral stumbled and fell forward, its leg twisting at an unnatural angle.
Some distant part of her mind thought, that had to have hurt. For the most part, though, she was focused on calling for help.
"Someone, anyone!" She cried into her radio. "There's a feral Abyssal on the beach! I need help! I can't do this by myself...!"
Good girl, Regalia! I'll note that she really did well in this fight and there's nothing wrong with her instincts to cripple the enemy's mobility while calling for help.
The other Re had risen to its feet again and was limping toward her, the portside set of propeller shafts visibly snapped and twisted around the swollen, purpling knee joint. It didn't even look to care about the damage.
If she gets past me... Regalia thought, she's going to kill anyone she gets her hands on. The children... the Yokai... as many of my family as it takes to put her down. I have to stay... I have to keep her focused on me for as long as I can... but what can I even do!?
No. Regalia took a breath. She had to stay focused. Things would only get worse if she panicked.
She thought back to Grandma's teachings. Thought back to her aunts' gladiatorial matches. She knew the ins and outs of her entire body—which meant she knew this Re-class. If she had the knowledge of how her hull was put together, she had the knowledge to break it down. And one of the best ways to do that?
Great look at her thought processes here and how she's using her medical training to cripple her enemy (even if she doesn't have the kind of killer instincts of a 'normal' Re-class).
She began to circle to the left, forcing the other Re to rely on its damaged propulsion to turn, keep her in focus—until, moving faster than should have been possible, the feral snarled and leaped towards her. Regalia desperately twisted to avoid the attack, but the other Re was so fast.
She felt a stabbing pain as a fist slammed into her gut, buckling the armor plate over her citadel and cracking two of her ribs.
The other Re hissed in satisfaction as Regalia doubled over and wheezed for breath.
The feral grabbed Regalia by her shoulder and neck and pulled her closer... then reeled back when Regalia's head snapped forward and crushed her nose with a visceral crunch.
When the feral released its grip to clutch at its mangled nose, Regalia threw her arms wide and slammed her cupped palms over both ears at once. The double hammerblow of compressed air, driven by Regalia's full horsepower, blew out its eardrums and wrecked its inner ears and command spaces.
The feral staggered backward as its command crew was dazed and stunned by the spalling of the double impact and the crumpling of her gyroscopes, causing it to lose her balance. But Regalia couldn't let up. Ducking down to grab a fistful of sand and gravel, she lunged forward and smashed it into her foe's face, raking her nails over the feral's glowing eyes in the same motion just for good measure. It was hard to resist feeling proud of herself when the feral reeled back even further with a screech, wildly clawing at its own face... in just a few seconds, she'd ruined the feral's sight, scent, and hearing.
But the pride turned to confusion when there was a spark.
Regalia backed away as the feral pitched forward, its screeching growing in volume. With each desperate swipe, licks of blue fire trailed from its bleeding eyes, growing steadily more intense, until the feral's entire upper face seemed to literally catch fire.
That was not natural. That was absolutely not natural.
Yeah, someone's up to shenanigans here, and I imagine this will start a serious discussion among the FOL and Hoppou (who will be upset when she finds out about Regalia's injuries)
Regalia pivoted on her heels and swung her hips as hard as she could, slamming her tail into the feral thing's flank while it wasn't defending itself. The impact launched the Re-class off its feet, tumbling end over end until it came to a stop among the rocky inner shores. Despite the destruction of both its senses and balance, the feral was unnervingly quick to get back up on its feet, just in time for Regalia to rush forward and slam her knee into its gut—"right below the belt", in the thinner armor covering her turbine spaces.
The loud crunch that resonated from the feral's abdomen told Regalia she'd broken something vital... but the feral showed almost no reaction. It wasn't even screaming anymore.
Okay, bringing divinely gifted weapons to an honor-depute hunting competition is probably cheating. But then, if you aren't cheating, you aren't trying. That, and you don't refuse divine gifts without very good reasons.
Not by preference necessarily, although she has her first bow reverently stored in her ranch (Louise's was buried with her). But she was a traditionalist when hunting buffalo with the Sioux.
Yeah, although the flipside is that she was really damn close. Like 20 feet or less close to a very large buffalo. She couldn't miss if she tried, honestly. (also she shot like 30-some arrows to get those seven kills)
Actually I couldn't find that one again when I was doing my research for the piece, but did find the Schoolhouse Blizzard, so... yeah. The Schoolhouse blizzard was really nasty, since it was actually a warm day (the ice was starting to melt!) when it hit around noon and dropped the temperature 30-40 degrees or more in a hour with over a foot of snow and hurricane-force winds.
But yes, Del lived through the Long Winter of 1880-1881 as well and has unfond memories of it (although she helped out herself and the neighbors with Expansion, Duplicating and Engorgement Charms cast on food, fodder and fuel supplies).
Okay, bringing divinely gifted weapons to an honor-depute hunting competition is probably cheating. But then, if you aren't cheating, you aren't trying. That, and you don't refuse divine gifts without very good reasons.
Which is likely the bigger influence. I've actually done some archery before, but not really had the chance to get serious. I once hit a bullseye, then got the chance to shoot a higher draw weight bow. Completely missed the target. (Not dissimilar to Del's problem, actually, come to think of it)
Even as his hands went to her hips nearly automatically, part of him realized that her skirt seemed like it was shorter than it should have been, "Natsumi-Chan?"
Just blinking in utter befuddlement, the Cruiser alongside the others outside of. Natsumi watched as Harry rushed out the door, onto rush back in and sit around in the dresser for some clean clothes before repeating his previous action.
Finally Fleur tossed her head back and glared at Harry. "Hmmph! Boys are simple for me to understand. I would make a far better boy than you would ever make a girl!" She spoke in a smug voice full of 'so there!'.
Chuckles coming from her, Tamamo gave her a slight smile and a mental gesture, as if waiving an imaginary hand at Harry, '{Our Harry is extremely comfortable in his own skin, to the point that such does not bother him.
With a blink, the French sword spirit looked up, "Hmm?" Seeing the question in the Kunoichi's eyes, she shook her head a little, "Ah, just thinking how disappointed that Carnwennan and the others are that Melissia and Argalia are both girls, that is all. They have commented on the lack of boys in the armory after all."
Almost no one noticed a certain Light Cruiser pause as she came in and give a look to the three "Witches" before sighing and walking off. For his part, Krum frowned as he tried to place the name, "… Castle Anthrax?"
Granted, that was when there was a shout and Heather turned as two pink-haired girls came up, "Melissia, Argalia! Sorry for getting ahead of you." Now, various Hogwarts students blinked and looked at the twins as they had not expected this. Meanwhile, Heather rubbed the back of her neck, "Sorry about that. These are my cousins named Argalia and Melissia, they got to Castle Anthrax."
Eyes wide at that, Heather blinked in astonishment, "Wait, Harry Potter is avoiding her?" Frown tugging at her lips, she furrowed her eyebrows, "That… doesn't sound right. I mean, he's a nice guy…" A giggle came from her and the witch shook her head, "And his puns are the best."
Said mind promptly crashed as Professor Sprout walked up and gave the two "Girls" a raised eyebrow, "Mister Potter, please keep from such public displays of affection…" She then smirked a little, "Though most impressive bit with the song, so have three points to Gryffindor."
Part of her dagger friend could not help but agree, but the rest was frozen in complete and utter stunned disbelief. And just as she was managing to reboot, her thoughts crashed again as Melissia gave a nod to Sprout asking if they were enjoying their stay in Hogwarts so far, "Oh yeah! My brother Argalia and myself are both enjoying it since Harry is showing us around. He's a lot of fun!" Then, she paused and shrugged, "Oh, and I'm an actual girl if you were wondering."
And throwing her out of harm's way would leave the Demon open to being stabbed in a vital organ withmolten metal... a wound that would almost certainly be lethal, maybe even catastrophically explosive, if it touched off her ammo.
Just shaking his head, the normally black-haired wizard smiled at her, "Fleur, once upon a time a girl wearing trousers was would get people worried that, maybe, she would suddenly like girls.
Yeah, someone's up to shenanigans here, and I imagine this will start a serious discussion among the FOL and Hoppou (who will be upset when she finds out about Regalia's injuries)
Actually having grown up with several kids from - East Coast US, Southern US and both midwest and west US, damnyankee is totally accurate - 'tis used as one word. Another is eastcoaster and westernhick. Most of the time the sentence would be like 'yeah, she's a damnyankee but she's good folk'
Edit: yes, it's not proper american english, or even english english but people do talk like that. If you want to be somewhat authentic these words creep in.
Indeed it is. For a very demonstrative example, look at the various videos Shadiversity has posted showing his gradual climb from being able to loose from a 70-pound longbow with difficulty to mastering a 100-pound warbow to his newest project: a 120-pound Mary Rose bow. When he moves up to the higher draw weight for the first time, his accuracy is garbage if he can even draw the bow to a shooting length.
Mika swallowed the last bite of the 'double cowboy beefalo burger' that Delilah had recommended that she order. She looked across the table at her father, who was finishing off her own burger.
Delilah unlocked her truck. "Hybrid between beef cattle and bison. Generally it's a cattle bull and a female Pté of the Buffalo People. They are somewhat popular out here since they handle the savage winters better with a thicker coat."
Automatically the older Muramasa looked at the sky with a thoughtful squint. "I remember the Children's Blizzard of January 1888. It was fifty-eight below zero with a hurricane wind blowing the snow so hard that you couldn't see three feet in front of your face. Neighbor's whole herd of cattle froze to death over a ten mile stretch, and Lou and I barely got our horses and ourselves under shelter. Two hundred thirty-five people died in it across the Upper Plains, some of them children caught in their schoolhouses or doing chores. It was a rough winter for us then, snow was four-five feet or better most places before the spring thaw."
"No shit." Delilah replied quietly as she pulled out and headed out of town. "But... it makes you tough as ten-penny nails and old boot leather to make it out here where we belong. You have to rely on each other out here to get through a tough season. If we were neighbors, I'd shelter your kid in a blizzard, because you might shelter mine the next time.
Nature doesn't give a good goddamn who you are when you get a drought, or twister, or bad blizzard come through. Reckon that's the reason the locals back in Custer don't give a flying fuck that I'm a damnyankee from the Rotten Apple, and Zamarad's Muslim from the Middle East and girls married to each other who run a ranch up in the Black Hills. It's not what you are but who you are out here, and they know that they can rely on us when things go to hell and they need a hand we can provide.
Mika sighed. "May as well. It was my first real battle. Second if you count my Awakening. I thought I knew what to expect, but it was like nothing I could have dreamed."
Delilah shook her head. "Not hardly. It was thanks to an incident during my first trip out here in 1868 with Louise. Ilvermorny was out for the summer holidays, and she'd invited me to visit her family. So we grabbed our brooms and flew out here. Anyway, I was disguised as a fellow twelve-year old Lakota girl from the Bad Faces sept when a warrior made a move on Lou. "
Del scowled. "He Dog had been drinking rotgut 'Injun whisky' and wanted to rape your mother. So I drew on him and Louise persuaded him to back down. But I had insulted him, so he challenged me that he would kill more Tȟatȟáŋka than I could during the hunt. Using a bow from horseback, not my true body."
Beside her, Louise had her wand out. Then her friend's eyes widened as she noticed the pure white feathers with electric blue tips that the warrior wore. Sparks of electricity popped and crackled from them.
Matching zigzag lines and patterns of white and blue on black and gray dominated the beadwork on his robe, leggings, and loincloth.
Without saying a word, the warrior nodded. He placed two bows crafted from Osage orangewood down on the ground in front of them. Two deerskin quivers, one dyed red and the other white with both filled with flint tipped cottonwood arrows fletched in Thunderbird feathers like those he wore followed.
Hopelully tame enough
