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She was slacking, and she knew it.

Knowing it was the worst part - being aware that despite her adamant insistence that she wasn't out here trying to be a superhero, she frequently found herself doing it anyway, only to be saddled with an unwieldy weapon that she still found difficult to use. An hour or two a week - at best - was not enough, especially when she spent that hour with her thoughts elsewhere and growing irrationally angry at her blameless teacher.

But alone? No - she shied away from that, too, embarrassed somehow at the thought of standing around in a field somewhere swinging her whip over and over at nothing, even though that was probably how normal people like the ones she'd been watching on YouTube figured it out.

Luckily, she had done a little networking. What she needed was someone who could be on the defensive, and not piss her off. Someone she liked, but also felt a little bit of condescending fondness for. Someone who technically had been doing this longer than her, but wouldn't rub her nose in it just by existing. Someone with a big ******** shield.

Sometimes, the universe was very kind in giving her she wanted. Boss babe manifesting, as some might say.

She had chosen a wide field on the outskirts to pursue this in, and she waited in it, dusk growing close. It was hot - thank god for magical weather-proof suits or else this fur stole would have been unbearable - but the wind was comfortably breezy. She sat on a stile, kicking her spurred heels to and fro like a little girl and waiting to feel Ekstrom's signature approaching, watching the synchronous glimmering of fireflies beneath the darkness of the trees gathered around the fences.

She wrinkled her nose, sticking out her tongue at the question, the smile that had been born by the hug quickly dissipating.

"If you don't mind terribly," she said. "Nail has been giving me grief about not practicing how to use this damn thing without getting my own as often as I hit what I'm aiming at, and I hate it when he's right." She jiggled the whip a little as she said it. "The good news is my aim is s**t, so I probably won't hit your shield too much. The bad news is my aim is s**t, and you're right there next to the shield."

She gestured at the freshly-shorn grass. "Shall we?" she asked drily, with the air of someone getting ready to attend a funeral.

She had thought this would be a pure mano-e-mano sort of endeavor, without the aid of their respective magic. Still, it was reassuring: it gave her an opportunity to warm up with the fear of accidentally giving Ekstrom a wallop to the shoulder removed. She made, therefore, a series of assays with the whip, aiming for the center of the physical shield, trying to get as much in as she could before Ekstrom's energy failed her.

She was better than she had been, at least - the whip yielded up its gunshot cracks with each attempt, even if they weren't all quite as powerful as they ought to be, and she did not yet manage to hit her own arm. But it was clear that her aim was still suffering. It was not, perhaps, the most shining virtue of her character that she was relieved that Ekstrom was not an expert in the matter, to sit there and give her fine-grained advice that she knew she needed.

"Neat trick," she said between snaps, eyeing the shield with the sudden awareness that she couldn't remember if Ekstrom had ever even seen her own magic. "Seems useful."

"Better than me. I don't practice nearly enough. This is the first time I have," she said bluntly, "except for when I'm on the Garde. I'm clunky either way, so it's not like -"

She paused, suddenly swatting with irritation as if being hounded by a bug. The target was a little flitting light - perhaps one that would be familiar to Ekstrom, at least - and its persistent attempts to get her attention succeeded in derailing her next attempt, the whip flailing somewhat unimpressively.

"This thing keeps bothering me the last couple weeks," she said, wrinkling her nose and shooing it away. "I met someone else with one - Nis? - and she didn't seem to be hurt by it, but it's annoying as s**t."

"Oh my god, I want a tiny octopus," Joy said, in what barely avoided being a squeal. She reached a hand gingerly out towards Boo, only for her own wisp to aggressively try and prevent her from touching it, like a jealous dog who's just seen the cat get a sneaky pet.

"If that's how you name these damn things I'm naming this one a*****e," she said, although she was slightly mollified by the idea that she had somehow attracted a tiny octopus. The word exploded was slightly alarming, but Boo seemed to be none the worse for it.

Having prevented her from giving any affection to Boo, the wisp - despite having no way of expressing anything at all - seemed to radiate a sort of superior smugness. It was, tragically, not unlike Joy in this way.

"Urgh. Nail on the Garde, this a*****e here. No one's letting me slack off."

She did not address the offer to let this be a regular, standing endeavor. Maybe she was hoping Ekstrom would forget.

She made a face, the exact nature of which was hard to define.

"It feels weird to use it on you," she said apologetically. But after another hesitation, during which it seemed like she might say something, she instead closed her mouth and made a "what can you do" sort of gesture of helplessness.

She swung the whip, this time without trying to actually hit anything and settling for a crack for the sake of noise, which she could at least do somewhat reliably. As if in answer, the ground erupted into a cascade of vines that raced towards Ekstrom's legs, white flowers unfurling and spilling forth a cascade of sweet perfume.

"Drop your weapon," she said, although she said it pleasantly, sweetly, as one might tell a well-trained dog not to bark.

She was curious to see if it would even work. On the one hand, Ekstrom was her friend, and on her own team, and maybe in that case the magic would be rendered ineffectual. On the other hand, Ekstrom seemed to be the sort of person who might be susceptible to a magic of suggestion. Maybe even the more so, when it came from a friend.

She held the power for a moment. It did not feel good to use it on Ekstrom, necessarily, but there was always something slightly intoxicating about it. It suited her in a way that made the Code's decision seem almost reasonable.

Gouvernail had told her once that he wanted her to stay alive long enough to know what the good parts of being the Garde were. It still slightly disturbed her to consider that maybe he had meant this: that at some point he had stood over someone he liked a great deal less than she liked Ekstrom, and had told them - less sweetly, more decisively - to stand down and hand him the weapon he would end their life with. But if this had been what he meant, he hadn't been wrong. It was pleasant to have that sort of power over another person, even if she would have chosen someone other than a harmless friend that she liked, if she had her way.

She hesitated, but this was only half a demonstration. "Let me pick that up," she said, still sweetly, crossing the distance in a few swift steps to reach for Ekstrom's shield.

It would work, or it wouldn't. If it did, she would simply drop the magic immediately, without actually touching the shield at all. If it didn't - well, Ekstrom would still get to feel the effort it took.

She let it go, dropping the magic and withdrawing her hand, having never intended to actually take it anyway. And then she gave her a thin smile, stepping back again.

"There you go," she said. "First time someone's really, truly defied it to me, but my understanding is that anyone can, if they try hard enough." Another tight, somewhat unhappy smile. "Impressive."

It would have been cruel to say what she was thinking: that Ekstrom did not strike has as someone capable of that kind of backbone. That she'd been surprised to see it. That she had anticipated her folding like tissue paper at the merest suggestion.

It would have been cruel to say it, and so she didn't.