Editing Warhammer High (section)

==An Afternoon With WD==

Lyra rolled her sleeve up to glance over her watch and huffed with impatience.  “Late.  There’s a shock.”  She glanced down the winding street in front of her house, waiting for the yellow aircar limo that Remilia always used.

Finally, it slid to a halt next to the mouth of the Dark Angels’ house, and the gull-wing door popped open.  Remilia waved Lyra in from the seat.  “Hey, there you are.  Sorry I’m late.”

“Hi.”  Lyra tossed her bag into the open door, then turned to WD, standing patiently next to her.  “All right, little guy, I’ll see you later.”  WD waved its tiny arm as Lyra climbed into the car and the door slid shut.  As the car lifted and shot off in the direction of the mall, WD turned around and waddled back into the house.  He had a lot of work to do, and who knew how much time to do it?
First things first.  WD clambered up to the mistress’s bedroom, which she had left in commendable shape, for once.  Still, to a trained eye, there were so many LITTLE things to improve upon.  WD hefted the pile of clean laundry outside the door and hauled it in, dropping it on the table next to the dresser, then waddling back out to retrieve an errant sock.  He opened the drawers in her dresser one at a time, meticulously depositing each article of clothing in the proper drawer.  That accomplished, he leaped from the dresser to the sprawling bed, laboriously tugging the sheets into T-square-perfect alignment.

He paused to look over the room, wondering if there was anything else that needed urgent attention.  His tiny eyes alighted on the pile of homework in the corner of the desk.  Of course.  Mistress hated cleaning up after work.  The gap was too far to jump, so he clambered down off the bed and climbed up the desk side, then carefully straightened up the sheets of paper and the occasional data card littering the desk.

A knock on the door caught his attention.  Lord El’Jonson poked his head in, glancing around for Lyra.  “Ah, blast, did I miss her?”  His gaze caught WD, still fidgeting with the papers on the desk.  “Did she leave already, WD?”

WD nodded, gesturing expressively at the window.  El’Jonson sighed.  “Of course.  Well, I’ll just see her when she gets back.”  He pointed at the pile of dirty laundry in the hamper in the corner.  “Don’t do those.  The young lady needs to learn a little about responsibility.”  Without another word, he walked away.

WD listened to him go, utterly confused.  What was he supposed to do now?  There wasn’t anything else to do in the room.  He had the afternoon off?

After considering that for a moment, he waddled off the bed and into the hall, looking both ways.  Apparently master El’Jonson was the only one in the house right now, because it was a good bit quieter than he was used to.  He waddled determinately over to the stairs and climbed down to the first floor, heading over to the massive kitchen.  If he had some time, which was something he really wasn’t prepared for, the least he could do was have a snack while he ruminated on his newfound free time.

The little xeno walked into the kitchen, looking over to where the butler servitor was plugged into the wall, recharging.  The cook was absent too, apparently, because her coat wasn’t on the peg.  Did everybody have the day off?
WD climbed up the little set of stairs next to the prep counter, and started to open the cabinet that had the food he had set aside for himself…and paused.  After a long moment, he glanced over at the human food refrigerator.  Glancing slyly over his shoulder to ensure his privacy, he nonchalantly walked over to the fridge and heaved it open, staring at the piles and shelves of human food inside.  How could humans even eat this much?
With an effort, he slid the vegetable drawer open and pulled out a half onion someone had opened, and carefully carried it back over to the smaller prep area he had for himself.  Glancing furtively around, he hefted a little knife and cut off a thin slice, then popped it into his mouth.


Whoa.
That was different.

He hurriedly wrapped the onion back up and replaced it in the veggie drawer, and closed the fridge with a thump.  Human food was gross.
Curiosity sated, he went back to his own prep station and made up a snack, wondering how he was to spend the day.  He had never been in the backyard by himself before.  Would that be fun?  Come to think of it, he had spent a lot of time outdoors, but never without somebody with him all the time, or some goal to accomplish.

Sudden guilt grabbed him as that last thought percolated through his head.  Was there something ELSE he was supposed to be doing?  He tried and tried, but couldn’t think of any chores or housework the mistress Lyra or Lord El’Jonson had given him.

The sound of footsteps – heavy and quick – broke his introspection.  He hurriedly rubbed the onion juice off the knife he was using and waited.  The door – the big one – opened, and the cook walked in, dropping her coat on the peg, and walked straight over to the menu for the day.  “All right, let’s see…hmph, grox tenderloin.  Easy enough…” her voice trailed off when she finally sensed someone else in her kitchen.  She turned around and spotted WD, doing his best to look casual at his prep station.  “Oh…hello there, WD,” she said, opening the fridge and getting the dinner ingredients out.  She focused on the task at hand, sorting through the food, putting the silent alien out of her mind.

WD sighed in relief and made for the door, before she could notice anything awry.  Well, staying in the house wasn’t appealing any more, and it was a lovely day out…so why not go enjoy it?  Wd made up his mind and navigated through the cold, imposing halls of the building to the backdoor, pushing it open with a mighty heave.  The cool breeze of Terran artificial autumn blew over him, ruffling his hood, as he looked at the dense pine copse over in the distance, on the far side of the untrimmed grass lawn.

The outdoors was BIG.  He started to close the door behind him, then quickly thought better of it.  He couldn’t tell if it was unlocked.  Looking around, he noted a lawn chair in the mess, and wandered over, determined to familiarize himself with the landmarks.  The chair was easy enough to climb, and he stared at the pine copse, wondering distantly if they had been transplanted from Caliban.

The wind picked up a bit, whistling off the hive wall in the distance, and WD climbed back down, making his way over to the trees.  The grass faded back as he approached, until he was walking on bare dirt ground, with a layer of pine needles instead of ground cover.  WD wandered to and fro in the trees nearest the house, wondering who took care of them.  Lord El’Jonson didn’t have a gardener.  He ran his little hand over the bark of one tree, remembering how, when he had been very small, mistress Lyra had tucked him in one hand and climbed the tree, and looked out over the manor together.  He glanced up at the branches, gauging how far apart they were.  Experimentally, he reached out to grab one, and found that it supported his weight easily.  He climbed up, balancing on the branch, and grinned to himself.  This was fun!

With an effort, he scaled a few more feet of the thick, dead branches, until he was at about where the eyes on that scary helmet Lord El’Jonson once wore would have been.  The noise from the wind was fading, with the trees all around him.  He stared off into the copse of trees, just enjoying the quiet.  He could see why mistress Lyra liked it out here.
He carefully picked himself back down the tree, landing on the ground with a whuff of breath.  Dusting himself off, he wandered deeper into the trees, following a very faint path between them.  He had been out here before, of course.  He knew where he was going, now.  It was just that mistress Lyra usually carried him.

The carpet of pine needles underfoot was getting a lit thicker.  Twice, he had to stop and shake his robe free of the little tree droppings; but finally he reached his destination.  Mistress Lyra liked to come out here if she needed some peace and solitude.  Which, on reflection, was odd, because she sometimes brought him with her.
He arrived at a small clearing, less than forty meters from the start of the trees, where a bunch of trees had been cleared away.  There was a big, scary knife stuck in the stump, WD noted nervously.  He had never noticed THAT before.  He cautiously approached it, tiptoeing onto the stump and squinting at the inscription in the metal.

It was High Gothic, unfortunately.  He gave up and looked across the clearing, where a couple of beer bottles were lying in the grass, and a whole rack of smaller knives were sitting on the stump next to him, under a waterproofed basket.  Well, just because he was on break didn’t mean he couldn’t get something done…
He marched across the clearing to grab the bottles, and started to drag them back to the stump.  Partway back, however, a low rumbling noise caught his ear.  He froze, listening, and the noise came again, fainter.  He strained to pick out details, but it didn’t return again.  Looking around nervously, he started to pull the bottles back towards the house.

WD got most of the way to the house before the noise came back.  He paused again, wondering uneasily if maybe that knife had been there for a reason…
Deciding that discretion was the better part of valor, he gamely clung to the beer bottles, dragging them the rest of the way back to the house, glad he had left the door open.  He lugged the bottles over the step, closing the door behind him, and set them down in the trash next to the door with a sigh.

Distantly, WD heard the noise of people talking at the front door.  He wandered towards the commotion, wondering if this meant his break was over.  Sure enough, he had heard true; mistress Lyra was home, and deep in an argument with her father.  Lyra was angry, he could see, her hands were clenched, and her cheeks flushed red.  “Dad, you can’t be serious!  That’s not fair!”

“Yes, young lady, it IS fair,” El’Jonson shot back, glaring coolly down at his temperamental daughter.  “You missed two homework assignments in a row last week.  Having to do chores is hardly a disproportionate punishment.  Besides, WD was never supposed to be your servant, it’s not fair of you to make him do all that himself.”

“I don’t treat him like a servant!” Lyra protested feebly.  The Lion peaked an eyebrow.

“Really?  Guess what he started doing when you left.”  Lyra flushed again, looking away in silence.  “That’s right.  He made your bed.  Which you didn’t do.  Well, I gave him the afternoon off.  Now, you can do it yourself.”  WD must have been less stealthy than he had thought, because master El’Jonson suddenly turned to him.  “Well, look who it is.”

Lyra’s head snapped up, and she hurriedly dried her eyes.  “Fine, I’ll…do the damn laundry.”

“Yes, yes you will,” El’Jonson said with an air of finality.  Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked off.  Lyra stood there, angrily staring after him.  WD waddled up and raised his arms, and Lyra glanced down her anger fading into something that almost looked like guilt.  She kneeled and scooped WD up, perching him on her shoulder.

“You don’t think I treat you like a servant, do you?” she asked him.  WD awkwardly shrugged.  “I do.  Damn it.”

WD sat down on her shoulder as Lyra went back up the stairs, wondering if maybe it would be better to make tracks for a while until it all blew over.  Lyra opened her door and stared at the clothes in the hamper with a groan.  “Where do I even start...?”  After staring at the clothing in a huff for a few more seconds, she seemingly gave up and sank down on the desk chair, staring at the homework WD had organized for her.  WD scooted off her shoulder to land in her lap, and Lyra looked at him morosely.  “What would I do without you?”  She snorted in sudden amusement.  “Laundry, apparently.”  WD clambered up to the desk and sat down on the edge, letting his robed legs hang over.  Lyra dropped the bag of crap she had bought at the mall on the floor next to her desk and sighed.  “Well, little dude, I hope at least you had a good break.  I think mine is over.”

FIN