fandomhigh | Ocker 101 - Week 3

This week's note and map would lead the kids out into the Preserve. When the students arrived, they'd find Mick sitting crosslegged and barefoot in the middle of a small clearing. Next to him was a battered cardboard box and he was methodically sharpening a very large knife.

"G'day. Grab a seat." Once his students were all sitting, he continued, "One thing you need if you're gonna survive is a knife. None of those little ones I've seen, a real knife. Something like this." He held up his knife. "Killed a croc, must've been at least eight foot, with this once, shoved it right through its skull. Can't do that with a switchblade. Good knife'll let you kill a croc and skin it, cut branches, carve a bit of wood...anything you want. Your knife's important and you've gotta look after it."

He reached into the box and pulled out some large knives in croc-skin sheaths. He gave one to each student along with a sharpening stone. "These are for you. Careful, 'cause I don't want anyone losing a finger, least not 'til after class, but I want you to get used to 'em, get familiar with 'em. Once you're done, I'll show you how to look after 'em."

He gave them a bit of time to look at their new knives, then explained how to sharpen them. "Once you're done, give it a clean," he grabbed a pile of rags from the box and tossed them on the floor, "then give it a test, make sure it's sharp and get comfy with it. You can try 'em out over there." He nodded in the direction of a larger clearing just next to them, where there were ~~endlessly moddable~~ items on which knives could be tested.

[~~Wait for the OCD or I cut you~~ Have at it!]

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Cara looked up from carving Fundamental Lack of Self Worth into small leathery ribbons to tilt her head curiously at Clark's bag.

She almost wished she could read the local language. Not that she was giving in there yet.

Clark spotted Cara (and what she was doing to her baggage) and froze, unaware she wasn't quite up with her literacy skills. "Um, it's not what it looks like." And then he grabbed the bag to cover the letters that just wouldn't disappear already.

"What is it then?" Cara asked, sensing an opportunity to tease Clark, but also slightly distracted by the need to destroy There Is Not Nearly Enough Room On This Label To Deal With Dahlia before anyone in the class spontaneously developed the ability to read D'Haran.

"Okay, maybe it's what it looks like if you've seen luggage before," Clark replied, taking his knife and dragging it through the offending words like butter. "But I didn't tell it to say that."

He also didn't tell the replacement baggage to appear beside him marked: Refuses to Accept His Destiny. Clark decided today really sucked.

"Sure you didn't." Of course Cara wasn't sure exactly what she was smirking about, but it was better than acknowledging the baggage that read More Worried That Richard And Kahlan Can Cope Without You Than That They Can't.

"You're lucky you've got some foreign language going there," Clark answered, carefully deflecting from his own bags. "What's it say?"

"Family related," Cara replied, yanking her knife through Tortured Own Father to Death at Age Nine. "Can't possibly be as interesting as what's on yours."

Runs From Problems at the Speed of Light stacked neatly next to Birth Parents of Alien Crazy as Clark cringed. "Mine are...kind of surprising. I don't know that I'd take them very seriously if I were you." Because if someone did, they might figure out he was different, ~~oh no~~!

"You mean like it's some kind of joke?" The bag labelled with Lord Rahl (not Richard) got a vigorous stab with each word. "It's a not particularly funny one."

Clark longed for an empty room and the chance to rip the bags to shreds and fling their carcasses miles away where they couldn't horrify him any longer.

"Not funny at all. It's not the first time I've noticed this island has a really bad sense of humor." At least the slicing of the fabric was a good use of his new class-provided knife!

"Like those damn flowers last week." And as if summoned by the very mention of them, here came Leo Was Nice, And Now He's Dead. Odd How That Happens Around You, Isn't It?

Edited 2010-05-28 19:04 (UTC)

"At least the flowers were pretty," Clark pointed out, dumbly thinking that helped things along. "Unless you're allergic or something?"

"Or something," Cara ground out, doing her best to shred Unloved And Undeserving Of It to itty bitty peices.

He watched her destruction, glad his bag acquisition had tapered off, giving him time to breathe and quit freaking out about what they said. "Sounds ominous."

"Only if you're a flower." Cara couldn't see any more of her baggage right now but that was mostly because Not Even Richard Likes You, Not Really and Kahlan Was Wrong Not To Confess You were buried under a vast pile of leather scraps.

"What, you turn them to tiny scraps like these bags?" Watch him be amazed by her skills.

"Unless you can think of something else to turn into scraps," Cara replied, eyeing Clark in a 'So just how fond are you of that shirt?' kind of way.

Remarkably, not one solitary piece of baggage appeared.

"What, like - OH!" Really, a person could watch the lightbulb blink on in Clark's head.

He tried making light of some of his bags, should she be afraid of his alienness now. "If shredded fabric helps deal with issues, I should take it up as a past time."

It was endearing, really, or maybe amusing, one of the two.

"Maybe you should," Cara said, trying to figure out just how much time they had between classes.

For teenage boys, the answer to that question was always plenty of time.

"In that case, it's a good thing Mr Mick gave us these knives." The man deserved many thanks.

Cara was willing to forgive a lot for her new knife, yes.

And also was willing to be slightly late for First Aid. "Yes, yes it is."

Ocker 101 - Week 3 - period 4 [28/05]

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