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bonnefoisTitle: Try
Series: between FE9 and FE10
Character/pairing: Titania, Mist (random mentions/appearances of other ensemble characters.)
Rating: G
Word count: 1523
Author's note: Intaglionyx: Titania & Mist, training. We saw a brief snippet of their friendship in their support, but I'd love to see more; I get the feeling that Titania feels an urge to act as a mother figure to Mist, but doesn't want to try to take Elena's place.
This isn't so much set during the supports as a coda to them.
Thanks to Jana for betaing.
There's enough clothes to drown in, enough clothes to leave her muscles aching for days afterwards, but she doesn't mind. It's calming. The rhythm of the back and forth brush, beating the clothes against the rocks until they stop smelling so rank and the soap bubbles drift down the river, fading into nothing.
Titania has some of the washing songs, a legacy of her mother. She sings them now, perfect to keep the beat, perfect to keep her mind off of the tragedies of life. The heat makes the going slow, but her at least her hands are cooled every time she dips them in. She stands up, an ache in her back as she shakes the clothes.
"Do you need any help?"
Mist turns, and wipes the sweat off her brow, leaving a trail of soapy suds along the way.
"Is this a routine, now?" Mist asks, a little smile starting deep within her.
"Rhys needed a break with the chores," Titania says. She lifts up a shirt from the basket to examine it.
"Nice stitching," Titania says.
"I sewed flowers patterns into the back of Boyd's shirts, but he hasn't noticed yet," Mist says, a wicked grin playing at the corner of her lips. "Ike's is next. I'll show them to make fun of my meatloaf."
Titania chuckles. "Hell hath no fury like a woman whose cooking has been scorned."
Mist smiles and dips the shirt in. The bubbles dissipate around it, evaporating into the hot sunshine. She shakes it out, droplets flicking out into the river. The next piece is the dress Titania gave her. It's a buttery golden shade, as warm as summer sunlight. There's a faint sheen to the cloth, and it hangs a bit lower than she's used to. Stepping into it is like stepping into a dream of dancing and fairy tale stories, of princes and dances and clocks striking midnight.
"You know, I'm really grateful for this. Everyone complimented it. Jill said it looked like something I could go to a party in. Well, everyone but Boyd. He asked me where I'd gotten the feed sack and told me I stink."
Titania sighs. "He's at that difficult age. I can go talk to him, if you want."
"No thanks. I'll fight my own battles, if I wanted to get someone to help, I bet I could've gotten Ike to beat him in training lots of times," Mist says.
Titania reaches into the basket and soon enough they've settled in.
*
Once the day has cooled, Mist's arms still ache. It's funny that laundry is considered women's work when it leaves her even more tired than training. She wishes she could see some of the boys try cooking or laundry if it's so simple. But even if she's sore, she doesn't skimp on training, because she's got this contest of sorts going with Boyd--she's not about to let him win.
Sure enough, Boyd isn't here yet. He isn't skipping out, though. Titania will sure of that, and her bet that he'll train less than she does keeps him to to that schedule. Mist isn't used to practicing off her horse; the stance feels all wrong. She lifts up her sword, and thrusts it into the air, listening for the whoosh as the sky passes her metal.. Sometimes she wishes she could've gotten a chance to practice swords with her father, like Ike did every day. But she doesn't spend much time on wishes that will never come true and only make her sad. Life's too short for too many regrets that just bog you down. She doesn't care if people think she's naive or an idealist, she wants to believe in a better future. She thinks that if she wishes and prays and focuses on this future hard enough, if she does her best to help all the people she can, it will come true.
For this stroke of the sword she thinks See, father, I'm going to learn how to use the sword, too. And I'll use it like Ike, to protect people. Just like you taught us.
"Your form is off."
Mist looks back. The axe is loosely gripped in Titania's hands. From how cracked it is, she guesses this is one of Kieran's axes. He has a habit of losing them. She's found them in all the strangest places, from the food storage to Oscar's room when she's gathering laundry.
"I've been trying, but I guess I'm still a little off. Can you fix my stance? " Mist says.
Titania sets aside the axe, and touches her elbow. Mist pushed and prodded into shape. She thrusts out her sword, and Titania shakes her head.
"Again."
This time she really puts herself into it, spinning in a move which makes her feel like a hero from a fairy tale and makes her skirts twirl.
"Are you training or dancing?"
She turns to where Boyd is there, all smirky and superior and stupid with an ax slung over his shoulders.
"I do both a lot better than you, mister steps-on-toes and comes to training ten minutes late," Mist says.
"It's not my fault, Oscar made me help clean up," Boyd says.
"I believe you owe us ten more reps this time for being ten minutes late, regardless of extenuating circumstances," Titania says. She's all calmness and solidity. Mist wants to be like that one day, so strong that she doesn't even have to lift her voice to make her point.
"Yes, ma'am," Boyd says, looking a little dejected. He moves out towards the training dummy made of straw. It's a bit cut up now; Kieran's already practiced for the day, and it shows.
"But that move, it was good, right? I've seen Mia do real damage like that," Mist says.
"Mia... is not someone whose form should be emulated. She is a good swordswoman in her own, unstructured way, but it's not something which can be repeated," Titania says.
"So she's basically the female Kieran when it comes to swordsmanship?" Mist says. She can't see herself screaming about the honor of Crimean knights at the top of her lungs as she rushes into battle.
"Not quite," Titania says.
"All right. I'll do twenty reps until I've got it just right."
"Yeah, well I'll do twenty-five," Boyd says from across the way.
"You'll do thirty if you don't stick to your own training," Titania says.
"Yes ma'am," Boyd says, far less enthusiastically this time.
She kind of wishes the moment of sword-dancing could work. But she works at it, regardless, slashing at the dummy until it turns, its loose ragged 'arms' flailing. Her muscles are beginning to ache deep inside, but she sticks to it. When she finishes, she's panting, feeling like falling to the ground. The straw dummy has holes all through it.
Titania nods. "Better."
It feels like she's taken a little step forward. Maybe she isn't there yet, but she's getting there. She'll be able to change things, protect the people she loves.
"Thank you for helping me train," Mist says.
"I was glad to help," Titania says.
"I'm off. Jill is staying around here, and is going to give me wyvern flying lessons while she's still in Crimea."
"And, Mist—"
"Mm?"
"If you ever need to talk...woman to woman, I'm here," Titania says.
"Aww, thank you. If I asked Ike, he'd probably tell me to sort out my problems by arm wrestling, or an eating contest," Mist says.
"I wouldn't be surprised," Titania says.
On an impulse, she goes up on tiptoe and wraps her arms about Titania. She's been in a mercenary group all her life; she's used to having hard armor dig into her chest when she hugs someone. After a moment's surprise, Titania pats her on the back. She breaks away, and waves back as she goes off to get her flying lessons. One last look back, and she catches the view of the training ground. Straw has been spread all over the place by swords, the faint wind.
Titania is watching over her, and it's nice, like Titania is her aunt or guardian who will never let anyone really bully or hurt her. She isn't the only one watching. Boyd has stopped in his training, axe centimeters away from the dummy.
"I didn't say you could stop with your practice, that will be ten more reps," Titania says.
Mist can't help but laugh for a moment as she runs out. For a second, she lets herself twirl like she did earlier, only this time without her sword. Maybe she can't combine the two into a fluid style, but she's going to find a way to dance, one day or another.
Series: between FE9 and FE10
Character/pairing: Titania, Mist (random mentions/appearances of other ensemble characters.)
Rating: G
Word count: 1523
Author's note: Intaglionyx: Titania & Mist, training. We saw a brief snippet of their friendship in their support, but I'd love to see more; I get the feeling that Titania feels an urge to act as a mother figure to Mist, but doesn't want to try to take Elena's place.
This isn't so much set during the supports as a coda to them.
Thanks to Jana for betaing.
There's enough clothes to drown in, enough clothes to leave her muscles aching for days afterwards, but she doesn't mind. It's calming. The rhythm of the back and forth brush, beating the clothes against the rocks until they stop smelling so rank and the soap bubbles drift down the river, fading into nothing.
Titania has some of the washing songs, a legacy of her mother. She sings them now, perfect to keep the beat, perfect to keep her mind off of the tragedies of life. The heat makes the going slow, but her at least her hands are cooled every time she dips them in. She stands up, an ache in her back as she shakes the clothes.
"Do you need any help?"
Mist turns, and wipes the sweat off her brow, leaving a trail of soapy suds along the way.
"Is this a routine, now?" Mist asks, a little smile starting deep within her.
"Rhys needed a break with the chores," Titania says. She lifts up a shirt from the basket to examine it.
"Nice stitching," Titania says.
"I sewed flowers patterns into the back of Boyd's shirts, but he hasn't noticed yet," Mist says, a wicked grin playing at the corner of her lips. "Ike's is next. I'll show them to make fun of my meatloaf."
Titania chuckles. "Hell hath no fury like a woman whose cooking has been scorned."
Mist smiles and dips the shirt in. The bubbles dissipate around it, evaporating into the hot sunshine. She shakes it out, droplets flicking out into the river. The next piece is the dress Titania gave her. It's a buttery golden shade, as warm as summer sunlight. There's a faint sheen to the cloth, and it hangs a bit lower than she's used to. Stepping into it is like stepping into a dream of dancing and fairy tale stories, of princes and dances and clocks striking midnight.
"You know, I'm really grateful for this. Everyone complimented it. Jill said it looked like something I could go to a party in. Well, everyone but Boyd. He asked me where I'd gotten the feed sack and told me I stink."
Titania sighs. "He's at that difficult age. I can go talk to him, if you want."
"No thanks. I'll fight my own battles, if I wanted to get someone to help, I bet I could've gotten Ike to beat him in training lots of times," Mist says.
Titania reaches into the basket and soon enough they've settled in.
*
Once the day has cooled, Mist's arms still ache. It's funny that laundry is considered women's work when it leaves her even more tired than training. She wishes she could see some of the boys try cooking or laundry if it's so simple. But even if she's sore, she doesn't skimp on training, because she's got this contest of sorts going with Boyd--she's not about to let him win.
Sure enough, Boyd isn't here yet. He isn't skipping out, though. Titania will sure of that, and her bet that he'll train less than she does keeps him to to that schedule. Mist isn't used to practicing off her horse; the stance feels all wrong. She lifts up her sword, and thrusts it into the air, listening for the whoosh as the sky passes her metal.. Sometimes she wishes she could've gotten a chance to practice swords with her father, like Ike did every day. But she doesn't spend much time on wishes that will never come true and only make her sad. Life's too short for too many regrets that just bog you down. She doesn't care if people think she's naive or an idealist, she wants to believe in a better future. She thinks that if she wishes and prays and focuses on this future hard enough, if she does her best to help all the people she can, it will come true.
For this stroke of the sword she thinks See, father, I'm going to learn how to use the sword, too. And I'll use it like Ike, to protect people. Just like you taught us.
"Your form is off."
Mist looks back. The axe is loosely gripped in Titania's hands. From how cracked it is, she guesses this is one of Kieran's axes. He has a habit of losing them. She's found them in all the strangest places, from the food storage to Oscar's room when she's gathering laundry.
"I've been trying, but I guess I'm still a little off. Can you fix my stance? " Mist says.
Titania sets aside the axe, and touches her elbow. Mist pushed and prodded into shape. She thrusts out her sword, and Titania shakes her head.
"Again."
This time she really puts herself into it, spinning in a move which makes her feel like a hero from a fairy tale and makes her skirts twirl.
"Are you training or dancing?"
She turns to where Boyd is there, all smirky and superior and stupid with an ax slung over his shoulders.
"I do both a lot better than you, mister steps-on-toes and comes to training ten minutes late," Mist says.
"It's not my fault, Oscar made me help clean up," Boyd says.
"I believe you owe us ten more reps this time for being ten minutes late, regardless of extenuating circumstances," Titania says. She's all calmness and solidity. Mist wants to be like that one day, so strong that she doesn't even have to lift her voice to make her point.
"Yes, ma'am," Boyd says, looking a little dejected. He moves out towards the training dummy made of straw. It's a bit cut up now; Kieran's already practiced for the day, and it shows.
"But that move, it was good, right? I've seen Mia do real damage like that," Mist says.
"Mia... is not someone whose form should be emulated. She is a good swordswoman in her own, unstructured way, but it's not something which can be repeated," Titania says.
"So she's basically the female Kieran when it comes to swordsmanship?" Mist says. She can't see herself screaming about the honor of Crimean knights at the top of her lungs as she rushes into battle.
"Not quite," Titania says.
"All right. I'll do twenty reps until I've got it just right."
"Yeah, well I'll do twenty-five," Boyd says from across the way.
"You'll do thirty if you don't stick to your own training," Titania says.
"Yes ma'am," Boyd says, far less enthusiastically this time.
She kind of wishes the moment of sword-dancing could work. But she works at it, regardless, slashing at the dummy until it turns, its loose ragged 'arms' flailing. Her muscles are beginning to ache deep inside, but she sticks to it. When she finishes, she's panting, feeling like falling to the ground. The straw dummy has holes all through it.
Titania nods. "Better."
It feels like she's taken a little step forward. Maybe she isn't there yet, but she's getting there. She'll be able to change things, protect the people she loves.
"Thank you for helping me train," Mist says.
"I was glad to help," Titania says.
"I'm off. Jill is staying around here, and is going to give me wyvern flying lessons while she's still in Crimea."
"And, Mist—"
"Mm?"
"If you ever need to talk...woman to woman, I'm here," Titania says.
"Aww, thank you. If I asked Ike, he'd probably tell me to sort out my problems by arm wrestling, or an eating contest," Mist says.
"I wouldn't be surprised," Titania says.
On an impulse, she goes up on tiptoe and wraps her arms about Titania. She's been in a mercenary group all her life; she's used to having hard armor dig into her chest when she hugs someone. After a moment's surprise, Titania pats her on the back. She breaks away, and waves back as she goes off to get her flying lessons. One last look back, and she catches the view of the training ground. Straw has been spread all over the place by swords, the faint wind.
Titania is watching over her, and it's nice, like Titania is her aunt or guardian who will never let anyone really bully or hurt her. She isn't the only one watching. Boyd has stopped in his training, axe centimeters away from the dummy.
"I didn't say you could stop with your practice, that will be ten more reps," Titania says.
Mist can't help but laugh for a moment as she runs out. For a second, she lets herself twirl like she did earlier, only this time without her sword. Maybe she can't combine the two into a fluid style, but she's going to find a way to dance, one day or another.
