Fic: Lydia's Last Day
Not sure where this came from (apart from the prompt...). If you find the beginning too fluffy, I suggest you keep on reading. If you find the start just right...um, don't read on. And no Spike at all - I still have no Spikevoice. Sniffle.
Lydia’s Last Day
Character: OC
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A jolly romp. And the truth it hides.
A/N: Written for prompt 2, episode ‘School Hard’ at Phantasmagoria: "Do you think any other Slayers ever had to go to high school?". With apologies to any fans of the Chalet School series. And to residents of Godalming.
Lydia Harris opened her eyes to face her last day at the School at the Villa in the Mountains. How she had enjoyed her jolly months here, so very different to the stuffy Godalming Grammar she had previously attended. Boarding school offered so many novelties. Even the pretty jasmine-sprigged curtains of her dormitory cubicle remained a delight, though she saw them daily. The view down to the blue, blue waters of the Hexensee never failed to lift her spirits.
After bracing cold bath and a deliciously Continental breakfast of rolls with sweet butter and black cherry jam, Lydia headed off to do her duty at Willow House’s morning Prayers. It was important to arrive promptly so that those wicked Upper Fourths shouldn’t get out of hand. Though a relative newcomer to the School, her practical nature and warm comradely manner had won her the trust of staff and pupils alike, and a lot of small jobs like this came her way. She was talked of as a possible Head Girl, but sadly could not stay long enough for that dream to be fulfilled.
First lesson on Fridays was English Literature, and a chance to relish King Lear. Lydia loved the cadences of Shakespearean metre, finding them so much more satisfying than the late Victorian Romantics which had been their previous term‘s study. That ghastly William Thingy, for example, what on earth had possessed Miss Burkle to give him an airing in the classroom? Awful poet. Effulgent, of all the outmoded adjectives. What tripe. The resultant vim which Lydia gave to her reading of Cordelia’s poignant exchanges with her doting father Lear was perhaps more than appropriate for the subject matter, but Miss Burkle was wise in her generation, and quietly thanked Lydia for her enthusiasm.
English was followed by double lacrosse. Though she was an athletic and graceful girl, Lydia’s enjoyment was always marred by her bitter enemy, the Games Captain. Darla Travers was the object of many a Third Year‘s crush, but Lydia knew too much of her ill nature to be deceived. She had early discovered Darla’s penchant for secret card parties in her study, at which, it was scandalously whispered, money changed hands. The Games Captain feared exposure and lost no opportunity to intimidate and undermine poor Lydia. On this occasion though, Darla restricted herself to a few nasty whacks with a crosse, and Lydia played on valiantly.
The afternoon brought a break from lessons, and while some of the Senior School left for a long hike in the upper plateaux, Lydia was happy enough to take a party of juniors on a short amble to the charming local village of Bocca dell‘Inferno. Lydia loved the log cabins and smiling women along the way, and often volunteered to visit when others demanded greater novelty in their excursions. She was a great favourite of Mine Host of the village inn, the amiable Angelo, who was always ready to feed up her charges with bread and honey, and great bowls of milky coffee for those who wished.
The girls returned, rosy cheeked and chattering. After a delicious supper, and once she had seen the Juniors settled to their prep, Lydia turned to her own Latin construe. She was not a little startled by the scandalous passage of Suetonius set for the night’s work. Caligula’s probable love affair with his own sister Drusilla seemed quite out of place in the cosy environs of the school.
And that was almost the end of Lydia’s last day. From nine onwards, the School turned in for bed and slept soundly as ever. No midnight feasts tonight.
*
So far as it goes, this story of Lydia’s Last Day is like a net, all holes. What fills the interstices is far more fascinating and terrible.
For a start, this isn’t the last day of term. No one else will leave the school today.
What else should fill the lacunae above? What does the record not show?
Item: That Lydia is the Slayer and has been so since the age of 15 years and five months. She is now 17 years and two months old.
Item: That Lydia was trained from the age of three in the best traditions of the Council of Watchers.
Item: That, aged 16 years and four months and after successfully completing her School Certificate, she begged to be allowed to travel abroad to finishing school, away from the watchful and nearby Academy.
Item: That she did so in full knowledge of the likelihood she would not survive more than another few months, and not wanting Godalming to be the only place she had ever known.
Item: That she cried for a day when permission was granted, knowing that the Council would not be so merciful if they believed she would survive for long.
Item: That despite this the Council agreed only on condition that Lydia move close to another site of demonic activity and continue her duties.
Item: That seven people died as a result of vampire attacks within a five mile radius of her former home in the first week after she left England.
Item: That she therefore ceased to read English newspapers during her second week at the School and cannot number the later victims of her neglect of duty.
Item: That Lydia rose today, and every day, at 4am to endure three hours of singlestick drill, target practice and mystical education before the rest of the school awoke.
Item: That the Matron, Miss Gunn, is Lydia’s Watcher.
Item: That Joyce Gunn knows her Slayer is weaker than she should be, though she hopes her protégée is not so aware, and is trying desperately to strengthen her muscle and resolve.
Item: That Lydia’s bracing cold bath was in the blue, blue waters of the Hexensee. Which, in April, is something few would survive.
Item: That that charming local village sits on a Hellmouth, and Lydia volunteers to visit so often to check for levels of demon infestation.
Item: That on this occasion, Mine Host the amiable Angelo would not as usual leave his inn for the beautiful sunshine outside.
Item: That Lydia staked the vampire which had been Angelo by the reception area and swept his ashes into the grate before whipping up the bread and honey the Juniors were awaiting.
Item: That Lydia therefore wept for six minutes and thirteen seconds after supper but before taking prep and had to bathe her eyes before she could be seen in public.
Item: That, exhaustedly patrolling the boundaries of the School close to midnight, Lydia disturbed a feeding pack of hell beasts. Quite a different midnight feast.
Item: That she fought hard and killed two before a third gripped her by the throat and ripped out her carotid artery while its mate sank fangs deep into her thigh, eventually also puncturing her left femoral artery.
Item: That even had medical attention been readily available, which it was not, Lydia would nonetheless have exsanguinated in seconds.
Item: That she could not speak before she died, but that her impotently lurking Watcher believes she saw her recognise the finality of the moment before life was extinct and her corpse was dragged into the hellhounds’ den to be devoured.
Perhaps it is better that the record should not show this. It brings no comfort to write.
But the record does, at least, pay one small tribute to our heroine. She heads the School’s Roll of Honour:
Lydia Faith Harris (1911-1928) School Protector
Lydia’s Last Day
Character: OC
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A jolly romp. And the truth it hides.
A/N: Written for prompt 2, episode ‘School Hard’ at Phantasmagoria: "Do you think any other Slayers ever had to go to high school?". With apologies to any fans of the Chalet School series. And to residents of Godalming.
Lydia Harris opened her eyes to face her last day at the School at the Villa in the Mountains. How she had enjoyed her jolly months here, so very different to the stuffy Godalming Grammar she had previously attended. Boarding school offered so many novelties. Even the pretty jasmine-sprigged curtains of her dormitory cubicle remained a delight, though she saw them daily. The view down to the blue, blue waters of the Hexensee never failed to lift her spirits.
After bracing cold bath and a deliciously Continental breakfast of rolls with sweet butter and black cherry jam, Lydia headed off to do her duty at Willow House’s morning Prayers. It was important to arrive promptly so that those wicked Upper Fourths shouldn’t get out of hand. Though a relative newcomer to the School, her practical nature and warm comradely manner had won her the trust of staff and pupils alike, and a lot of small jobs like this came her way. She was talked of as a possible Head Girl, but sadly could not stay long enough for that dream to be fulfilled.
First lesson on Fridays was English Literature, and a chance to relish King Lear. Lydia loved the cadences of Shakespearean metre, finding them so much more satisfying than the late Victorian Romantics which had been their previous term‘s study. That ghastly William Thingy, for example, what on earth had possessed Miss Burkle to give him an airing in the classroom? Awful poet. Effulgent, of all the outmoded adjectives. What tripe. The resultant vim which Lydia gave to her reading of Cordelia’s poignant exchanges with her doting father Lear was perhaps more than appropriate for the subject matter, but Miss Burkle was wise in her generation, and quietly thanked Lydia for her enthusiasm.
English was followed by double lacrosse. Though she was an athletic and graceful girl, Lydia’s enjoyment was always marred by her bitter enemy, the Games Captain. Darla Travers was the object of many a Third Year‘s crush, but Lydia knew too much of her ill nature to be deceived. She had early discovered Darla’s penchant for secret card parties in her study, at which, it was scandalously whispered, money changed hands. The Games Captain feared exposure and lost no opportunity to intimidate and undermine poor Lydia. On this occasion though, Darla restricted herself to a few nasty whacks with a crosse, and Lydia played on valiantly.
The afternoon brought a break from lessons, and while some of the Senior School left for a long hike in the upper plateaux, Lydia was happy enough to take a party of juniors on a short amble to the charming local village of Bocca dell‘Inferno. Lydia loved the log cabins and smiling women along the way, and often volunteered to visit when others demanded greater novelty in their excursions. She was a great favourite of Mine Host of the village inn, the amiable Angelo, who was always ready to feed up her charges with bread and honey, and great bowls of milky coffee for those who wished.
The girls returned, rosy cheeked and chattering. After a delicious supper, and once she had seen the Juniors settled to their prep, Lydia turned to her own Latin construe. She was not a little startled by the scandalous passage of Suetonius set for the night’s work. Caligula’s probable love affair with his own sister Drusilla seemed quite out of place in the cosy environs of the school.
And that was almost the end of Lydia’s last day. From nine onwards, the School turned in for bed and slept soundly as ever. No midnight feasts tonight.
*
So far as it goes, this story of Lydia’s Last Day is like a net, all holes. What fills the interstices is far more fascinating and terrible.
For a start, this isn’t the last day of term. No one else will leave the school today.
What else should fill the lacunae above? What does the record not show?
Item: That Lydia is the Slayer and has been so since the age of 15 years and five months. She is now 17 years and two months old.
Item: That Lydia was trained from the age of three in the best traditions of the Council of Watchers.
Item: That, aged 16 years and four months and after successfully completing her School Certificate, she begged to be allowed to travel abroad to finishing school, away from the watchful and nearby Academy.
Item: That she did so in full knowledge of the likelihood she would not survive more than another few months, and not wanting Godalming to be the only place she had ever known.
Item: That she cried for a day when permission was granted, knowing that the Council would not be so merciful if they believed she would survive for long.
Item: That despite this the Council agreed only on condition that Lydia move close to another site of demonic activity and continue her duties.
Item: That seven people died as a result of vampire attacks within a five mile radius of her former home in the first week after she left England.
Item: That she therefore ceased to read English newspapers during her second week at the School and cannot number the later victims of her neglect of duty.
Item: That Lydia rose today, and every day, at 4am to endure three hours of singlestick drill, target practice and mystical education before the rest of the school awoke.
Item: That the Matron, Miss Gunn, is Lydia’s Watcher.
Item: That Joyce Gunn knows her Slayer is weaker than she should be, though she hopes her protégée is not so aware, and is trying desperately to strengthen her muscle and resolve.
Item: That Lydia’s bracing cold bath was in the blue, blue waters of the Hexensee. Which, in April, is something few would survive.
Item: That that charming local village sits on a Hellmouth, and Lydia volunteers to visit so often to check for levels of demon infestation.
Item: That on this occasion, Mine Host the amiable Angelo would not as usual leave his inn for the beautiful sunshine outside.
Item: That Lydia staked the vampire which had been Angelo by the reception area and swept his ashes into the grate before whipping up the bread and honey the Juniors were awaiting.
Item: That Lydia therefore wept for six minutes and thirteen seconds after supper but before taking prep and had to bathe her eyes before she could be seen in public.
Item: That, exhaustedly patrolling the boundaries of the School close to midnight, Lydia disturbed a feeding pack of hell beasts. Quite a different midnight feast.
Item: That she fought hard and killed two before a third gripped her by the throat and ripped out her carotid artery while its mate sank fangs deep into her thigh, eventually also puncturing her left femoral artery.
Item: That even had medical attention been readily available, which it was not, Lydia would nonetheless have exsanguinated in seconds.
Item: That she could not speak before she died, but that her impotently lurking Watcher believes she saw her recognise the finality of the moment before life was extinct and her corpse was dragged into the hellhounds’ den to be devoured.
Perhaps it is better that the record should not show this. It brings no comfort to write.
But the record does, at least, pay one small tribute to our heroine. She heads the School’s Roll of Honour:
Lydia Faith Harris (1911-1928) School Protector