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Life Lessons - Part 2
It's not Ammie unless it's got introspective angst and meta.
Even if it's a derpy fluff fic.
(This segment is considerably less fluffy than the first, but never fear, fluff shall resume at full throttle next part!)
With tomorrow's lesson plans written up, Soren let himself fall onto his bed, the straw cracking in complaint underneath him. It had started storming some twenty minutes ago, and there was a wet spot near his hip where the water had been dripping insistently through a miniscule crack in the roof. He sighed and re-arranged himself on the bed to curve his legs around it. He thought he could ignore it, at first, but with how often it rained in Crimea he considered finding someone to fix it.
The kind of people who would generously allot him a decrepit decades-uninhabited cottage some distance from the village probably weren't too eager to help him with his roof, anyway. He was just glad there weren't entire sections of the roof missing.
Something scuttled by near his feet. He was too tired to fight it.
Second-rate though it was, Soren had no real qualms about this arrangement. In this day and age there were fewer and fewer beorc settlements with no laguz. Of those settlements, most were so damaged by the war that they wouldn't dream of taking in a wanderer who had all the wrong mannerisms for a Crimean. Really, Soren was grateful that he'd found a place to stay before he ran out of coin for food.
The water was beginning to creep outward from the dripping spot, chilling the back of his calves. He thought again about who would help him fix that. Elincia had a lot of time on her hands lately, with the older children dismissed to help their parents with the farm for the summer. Elincia liked him well enough – or tolerated him, maybe, he wasn't sure which. For all he knew, he would be let go the moment another stranger with sufficient education showed up. And in any event, Elincia didn't strike him as the sort to go about fixing roofs.
He might be able to pay some unsavory character at Anna's Inn to do it. He dismissed that thought immediately. He was not going to teach them about where he lived, what he possessed, and the shoddy state of his security (the hinges rusted, the bolt stuck, the regular lock with only three pins and pickable by his own hand with two pieces of chicken wire in ten seconds). Besides, he'd had enough eunuch jokes for a lifetime.
Maybe the patrolman. It wasn't like this village had much crime going on at any moment. He had the time to help kittens down from trees.
That patrolman. Ike.
Now that some time had passed, Soren was unsure if he was actually familiar or if his mind was playing tricks on him again. He had memorized so many faces over the years that they all ran into a distant, foreboding haze. And whenever he could say for certain that someone was familiar, he could never remember what mission it was or what role they played. Nothing ever happened because of it, but he was open to new possibilities –
Something scratched against his wall.
Soren was up in an instant, his hand against the sheathed dagger strapped against his chest. He listened, and the rain pattered insistently in ebbing staccato waves. A perfect night for thunder magic, he thought to himself as he stood and faced the door.
He had chosen a particularly unfortunate place to stand, with a puddle of water underneath one foot and a steady drip against his shoulder. But now was not the time to move. He listened carefully for any sound out of the ordinary – anything to tell him that the scratching wasn't his imagination, or that they had at last caught up to him.
No one left the Alliance.
The rain splattered in an even roar against his roof.
It would be terribly inconvenient if thunder started to roar as well. He knew personally that a great many acts could be hidden in such a burst of sound. Fortunately, there didn't seem to be any signs of lightning – yet.
And everything was quiet, save for the rain. No scratching from what he judged was the wall beyond his bed. No attempts at the door. He thought to himself that it could have been a falling branch –
Something made a sound near his foot
He stepped back and shot a small flame at the sound. The rat screeched and writhed on the floor. Soren let out a sigh of relief, sending a small jolt of electricity to stop its heart. One vermin down. Goddess knows how many more to go.
Elincia joined him for lunch. He made no remark on it, as it was a common occurrence. If Soren seemed tired, she made no comment on it. That too was a common occurrence.
“That was a pleasant surprise yesterday,” she said.
“The kitten?”
“Mmhmm. I haven't had the opportunity to see Ike in some time.” She speared one of her colorful vegetables on her fork and brought it to her mouth thoughtfully. “Two months, maybe.”
Soren thought she had a distorted sense of “some time”.
“It used to be that we saw each other every day – during the war.”
“I see,” he muttered for the sake of keeping up the illusion of being a competent conversationalist.
“But things change... some relationships just don't hold outside of the fury of battle.”
“You were in the war?” This was something Soren actually wanted to know. He looked at Elincia with her hair neatly done, her sweet honey-amber eyes and her ridiculous orange dress, and tried to imagine her sticking a spear in someone.
“Yes. I was trained in swordplay and life magic. We mostly needed my life magic.”
Oh, a healer. He was less surprised.
“Ike led the militia,” Elincia supplied. “You wouldn't believe how fine he was as our leader.” Soren could believe it. Ike had that gruff charisma about him. “Were you in Crimea at that time, Soren?”
“Yes,” he said simply, and left it at that. Elincia was polite enough not to pry. “By the way. I've been having trouble with my roof.”
“Have you? Do you need someone to take a look at it? Ike would help you, I'm sure.”
How convenient. He didn't even need to subtly introduce the suggestion. “Hmm. Do you have a means of contacting him?”
“Yes, of course. You live past here away from town, don't you? I'll ask him to come here at the end of the school day.” Soren made a vague sound of approval as he bit into his bread. She raised one finger in the air and a tiny pegasus arose from its point in a flicker of blue energy. She whispered to it, kissed her finger, and it sped off like a blue fly. Soren watched it stream out the window. No joking, then. This dumpy village's school's principal had an excellent grasp on life magic.
He paused for a moment, allowing some respect for the level of magic she'd mastered to complete such a simple task. When he returned to the conversation, he said, “Your falling out was more than civil, I take it?”
“Mm. Well, perhaps it looks better than it really is.” She speared a particularly assortment of vegetables on her fork and brought it to her mouth, and Soren decided he didn't want to know about it anyway.
Even if it's a derpy fluff fic.
(This segment is considerably less fluffy than the first, but never fear, fluff shall resume at full throttle next part!)
With tomorrow's lesson plans written up, Soren let himself fall onto his bed, the straw cracking in complaint underneath him. It had started storming some twenty minutes ago, and there was a wet spot near his hip where the water had been dripping insistently through a miniscule crack in the roof. He sighed and re-arranged himself on the bed to curve his legs around it. He thought he could ignore it, at first, but with how often it rained in Crimea he considered finding someone to fix it.
The kind of people who would generously allot him a decrepit decades-uninhabited cottage some distance from the village probably weren't too eager to help him with his roof, anyway. He was just glad there weren't entire sections of the roof missing.
Something scuttled by near his feet. He was too tired to fight it.
Second-rate though it was, Soren had no real qualms about this arrangement. In this day and age there were fewer and fewer beorc settlements with no laguz. Of those settlements, most were so damaged by the war that they wouldn't dream of taking in a wanderer who had all the wrong mannerisms for a Crimean. Really, Soren was grateful that he'd found a place to stay before he ran out of coin for food.
The water was beginning to creep outward from the dripping spot, chilling the back of his calves. He thought again about who would help him fix that. Elincia had a lot of time on her hands lately, with the older children dismissed to help their parents with the farm for the summer. Elincia liked him well enough – or tolerated him, maybe, he wasn't sure which. For all he knew, he would be let go the moment another stranger with sufficient education showed up. And in any event, Elincia didn't strike him as the sort to go about fixing roofs.
He might be able to pay some unsavory character at Anna's Inn to do it. He dismissed that thought immediately. He was not going to teach them about where he lived, what he possessed, and the shoddy state of his security (the hinges rusted, the bolt stuck, the regular lock with only three pins and pickable by his own hand with two pieces of chicken wire in ten seconds). Besides, he'd had enough eunuch jokes for a lifetime.
Maybe the patrolman. It wasn't like this village had much crime going on at any moment. He had the time to help kittens down from trees.
That patrolman. Ike.
Now that some time had passed, Soren was unsure if he was actually familiar or if his mind was playing tricks on him again. He had memorized so many faces over the years that they all ran into a distant, foreboding haze. And whenever he could say for certain that someone was familiar, he could never remember what mission it was or what role they played. Nothing ever happened because of it, but he was open to new possibilities –
Something scratched against his wall.
Soren was up in an instant, his hand against the sheathed dagger strapped against his chest. He listened, and the rain pattered insistently in ebbing staccato waves. A perfect night for thunder magic, he thought to himself as he stood and faced the door.
He had chosen a particularly unfortunate place to stand, with a puddle of water underneath one foot and a steady drip against his shoulder. But now was not the time to move. He listened carefully for any sound out of the ordinary – anything to tell him that the scratching wasn't his imagination, or that they had at last caught up to him.
No one left the Alliance.
The rain splattered in an even roar against his roof.
It would be terribly inconvenient if thunder started to roar as well. He knew personally that a great many acts could be hidden in such a burst of sound. Fortunately, there didn't seem to be any signs of lightning – yet.
And everything was quiet, save for the rain. No scratching from what he judged was the wall beyond his bed. No attempts at the door. He thought to himself that it could have been a falling branch –
Something made a sound near his foot
He stepped back and shot a small flame at the sound. The rat screeched and writhed on the floor. Soren let out a sigh of relief, sending a small jolt of electricity to stop its heart. One vermin down. Goddess knows how many more to go.
Elincia joined him for lunch. He made no remark on it, as it was a common occurrence. If Soren seemed tired, she made no comment on it. That too was a common occurrence.
“That was a pleasant surprise yesterday,” she said.
“The kitten?”
“Mmhmm. I haven't had the opportunity to see Ike in some time.” She speared one of her colorful vegetables on her fork and brought it to her mouth thoughtfully. “Two months, maybe.”
Soren thought she had a distorted sense of “some time”.
“It used to be that we saw each other every day – during the war.”
“I see,” he muttered for the sake of keeping up the illusion of being a competent conversationalist.
“But things change... some relationships just don't hold outside of the fury of battle.”
“You were in the war?” This was something Soren actually wanted to know. He looked at Elincia with her hair neatly done, her sweet honey-amber eyes and her ridiculous orange dress, and tried to imagine her sticking a spear in someone.
“Yes. I was trained in swordplay and life magic. We mostly needed my life magic.”
Oh, a healer. He was less surprised.
“Ike led the militia,” Elincia supplied. “You wouldn't believe how fine he was as our leader.” Soren could believe it. Ike had that gruff charisma about him. “Were you in Crimea at that time, Soren?”
“Yes,” he said simply, and left it at that. Elincia was polite enough not to pry. “By the way. I've been having trouble with my roof.”
“Have you? Do you need someone to take a look at it? Ike would help you, I'm sure.”
How convenient. He didn't even need to subtly introduce the suggestion. “Hmm. Do you have a means of contacting him?”
“Yes, of course. You live past here away from town, don't you? I'll ask him to come here at the end of the school day.” Soren made a vague sound of approval as he bit into his bread. She raised one finger in the air and a tiny pegasus arose from its point in a flicker of blue energy. She whispered to it, kissed her finger, and it sped off like a blue fly. Soren watched it stream out the window. No joking, then. This dumpy village's school's principal had an excellent grasp on life magic.
He paused for a moment, allowing some respect for the level of magic she'd mastered to complete such a simple task. When he returned to the conversation, he said, “Your falling out was more than civil, I take it?”
“Mm. Well, perhaps it looks better than it really is.” She speared a particularly assortment of vegetables on her fork and brought it to her mouth, and Soren decided he didn't want to know about it anyway.
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...I guess this one isn't big enough.
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Soren is just so wonderfully in character and everything.
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Just so you know though, this is sorta on hold while I figure out my
I'm sure the urge to write nauseating fluff will reassert itself eventually though.
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And I'm sure it will. It always does.