FIC: Practice
Title: Practice
Fandom: Codex Alera
Characters: Tavi and Kitai
Recipient: terioncalling
Word Count: 1100
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Up Until Captain's Fury
Prompt: Possibly a more expanded scene when Tavi is practicing with furies and Kitai jumps him.
Or Kitai just lounging off to the side making commentary whilst he tries.
Summary: Kitai watches Tavi practice his furycrafting and it gives her a lot to think about.
Disclaimer: None of it's mine, I'm sad to say. I like to think I did his wonderful character's justice.
A/N: I hope terioncalling likes this. I appreciate all the work Priscilla did on the ficathon and I am sorry I'm slightly overdue with this.
Practice
Kitai sighed and settled into her usual position to watch her chala strain himself, curse heaven and earth, and exhaust his body as he worked on his furycrafting. She didn’t understand it, not at all. Oh, she understood why he felt like he needed to perfect his skills. They were his birthright and his gift as an Aleran, but hadn’t he done fine up to this point without these furies? Hadn’t he developed into her lover, her mate, her . . . well, her Tavi without using them? Yes, he had. So why was he so angry? If anything, he should be pleased, in her opinion, that this gift so long suppressed in his life had finally asserted itself. He had told her that his whole life he had felt crippled, imperfect, a freak. She reasoned to herself that if a true cripple could suddenly grow a new pair of legs, he wouldn’t spend time cursing the time he had been without them, but would instead enjoy each moment of the struggle to learn to walk with the miracle. But she couldn’t seem to explain that to him. She had tried, but the words had failed her and she had wound up just pulling him down to her for a deep kiss.
Tavi called for his furies again and again, until sweat covered his skin and dampened his clothes. He could occasionally move some earth or call the small stream from its banks, and once a breeze even ruffled his hair, but it was definitely slow progress. Kitai smiled encouragement at him when he glanced over at her and something about the tilt of his head reminded her of Isana. She didn’t know how either of them could have missed the resemblance between mother and son, but of course they all had. Isana was part of the reason for his anger, she knew, and she couldn’t really blame him for that. But at the same time, Kitai suspected that if she were ever to have a child in constant danger, she might well hide it, too. And Kitai knew that just as one small step to the side could change the course of civilizations, Isana’s deception had put Tavi on the path that led him to be here now, with her, and she couldn’t regret that, would never regret that. Her Tavi would never have been open to her friendship as a Marat if he hadn’t been a virtual outcast among his own people. Now women noticed him, even though his ability at furycrafting had not yet been made public knowledge, but his size and increased confidence cut an imposing figure in camp. Right now, he never looked at them or even spared them a second glance. But she knew the day would come when he did and she dreaded that day, the day when he noticed, when he married a proper Aleran maiden. The inevitable day when he would leave her for good. She knew she would not be able to handle the separation. The bond between a Marat and her totem, her Chala, was permanent. She would mourn him forever, as lost to her as if he were dead.
She felt a rock hit her in the head and she turned in surprise. “You left me!” Tavi accused, laughing at the look on her face. “Where did you go?”
“Into the future, my Chala. Into the days when your earth fury will be strong enough to throw boulders. I will that day pay very close attention to you, I promise.” She forced a smile. He had thrown that pebble, she knew, without hands. She looked at it and wished she could throw it back at him - just to see the look of surprise on his face. She felt the stone call to her, felt its weight against the earth, and just out of curiosity, tried pushing it. It rolled over and Kitai blinked in shock. Then she shook her head, stood, and dusted off her robes. She walked toward Tavi, swinging her hips just a bit more than usual. His eyes widened as she approached. It was time for both of them to take a break. She was having delusions, and Tavi definitely needed to rest and relax. And she knew exactly what could convince him to do that.
“So, my strong, handsome Aleran, have you not worn yourself out yet?”
“I was thinking I might practice for a few more minutes.”
“That’s too bad. I was hoping someone would distract me. I’m extremely bored and need something to occupy my mind.”
Her lover’s laughter echoed in the cave and Kitai smiled to herself. “It is really your mind you wish occupied, Kitai? If so, perhaps you should go gossip with the washerwomen down at the camp. They can spin many a fine tale in the hot afternoon sun.”
Kitai felt a breeze stir her hair and daringly undid her clothes. “If you don’t come here now, Chala, I may take you up on that suggestion, but I did have something more pleasurable in mind than standing over wet dirty garments.” She let her thin robe puddle at her feet and faced him without a trace of shyness. She loved the way he looked at her, the way his eyes darted all over her body as if he could not decide where he wanted to look first.
Tavi threw one last pebble that clattered against a stone wall and then he approached her. “You are a minx, girl. I am trying to practice and yet all you do is distract me.”
“I’ve let you practice long enough, Tavi. You’ll exhaust yourself. I’ve seen others use their furies until they are practically dead. I do not want that for you. I have need of you.” She winked, implying one thing, but meaning so completely another.
“But I’m doing so little - a few stones, a light breeze. They exhaust themselves moving walls of stones, turning back oceans, and keeping themselves in the air.” Tavi threw himself on the ground and Kitai knelt next to him, undoing the first of his clothes’ fastenings.
“Of course, but they have been practicing for years, moving small stones at first, and growing with their furies. They were not moving boulders at first, either. Have we not discussed this before?”
“We have.” Tavi pouted and Kitai couldn’t help but kiss him. Right now he looked like a petulant child. “And you are, as always, Marat, right.”
Kitai removed the last of his clothing and then straddled him, triumphant. “Oh, I know. And you are wise to acknowledge it.”
Tavi kissed her back and his furycrafting practice was officially over.
Fandom: Codex Alera
Characters: Tavi and Kitai
Recipient: terioncalling
Word Count: 1100
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Up Until Captain's Fury
Prompt: Possibly a more expanded scene when Tavi is practicing with furies and Kitai jumps him.
Or Kitai just lounging off to the side making commentary whilst he tries.
Summary: Kitai watches Tavi practice his furycrafting and it gives her a lot to think about.
Disclaimer: None of it's mine, I'm sad to say. I like to think I did his wonderful character's justice.
A/N: I hope terioncalling likes this. I appreciate all the work Priscilla did on the ficathon and I am sorry I'm slightly overdue with this.
Practice
Kitai sighed and settled into her usual position to watch her chala strain himself, curse heaven and earth, and exhaust his body as he worked on his furycrafting. She didn’t understand it, not at all. Oh, she understood why he felt like he needed to perfect his skills. They were his birthright and his gift as an Aleran, but hadn’t he done fine up to this point without these furies? Hadn’t he developed into her lover, her mate, her . . . well, her Tavi without using them? Yes, he had. So why was he so angry? If anything, he should be pleased, in her opinion, that this gift so long suppressed in his life had finally asserted itself. He had told her that his whole life he had felt crippled, imperfect, a freak. She reasoned to herself that if a true cripple could suddenly grow a new pair of legs, he wouldn’t spend time cursing the time he had been without them, but would instead enjoy each moment of the struggle to learn to walk with the miracle. But she couldn’t seem to explain that to him. She had tried, but the words had failed her and she had wound up just pulling him down to her for a deep kiss.
Tavi called for his furies again and again, until sweat covered his skin and dampened his clothes. He could occasionally move some earth or call the small stream from its banks, and once a breeze even ruffled his hair, but it was definitely slow progress. Kitai smiled encouragement at him when he glanced over at her and something about the tilt of his head reminded her of Isana. She didn’t know how either of them could have missed the resemblance between mother and son, but of course they all had. Isana was part of the reason for his anger, she knew, and she couldn’t really blame him for that. But at the same time, Kitai suspected that if she were ever to have a child in constant danger, she might well hide it, too. And Kitai knew that just as one small step to the side could change the course of civilizations, Isana’s deception had put Tavi on the path that led him to be here now, with her, and she couldn’t regret that, would never regret that. Her Tavi would never have been open to her friendship as a Marat if he hadn’t been a virtual outcast among his own people. Now women noticed him, even though his ability at furycrafting had not yet been made public knowledge, but his size and increased confidence cut an imposing figure in camp. Right now, he never looked at them or even spared them a second glance. But she knew the day would come when he did and she dreaded that day, the day when he noticed, when he married a proper Aleran maiden. The inevitable day when he would leave her for good. She knew she would not be able to handle the separation. The bond between a Marat and her totem, her Chala, was permanent. She would mourn him forever, as lost to her as if he were dead.
She felt a rock hit her in the head and she turned in surprise. “You left me!” Tavi accused, laughing at the look on her face. “Where did you go?”
“Into the future, my Chala. Into the days when your earth fury will be strong enough to throw boulders. I will that day pay very close attention to you, I promise.” She forced a smile. He had thrown that pebble, she knew, without hands. She looked at it and wished she could throw it back at him - just to see the look of surprise on his face. She felt the stone call to her, felt its weight against the earth, and just out of curiosity, tried pushing it. It rolled over and Kitai blinked in shock. Then she shook her head, stood, and dusted off her robes. She walked toward Tavi, swinging her hips just a bit more than usual. His eyes widened as she approached. It was time for both of them to take a break. She was having delusions, and Tavi definitely needed to rest and relax. And she knew exactly what could convince him to do that.
“So, my strong, handsome Aleran, have you not worn yourself out yet?”
“I was thinking I might practice for a few more minutes.”
“That’s too bad. I was hoping someone would distract me. I’m extremely bored and need something to occupy my mind.”
Her lover’s laughter echoed in the cave and Kitai smiled to herself. “It is really your mind you wish occupied, Kitai? If so, perhaps you should go gossip with the washerwomen down at the camp. They can spin many a fine tale in the hot afternoon sun.”
Kitai felt a breeze stir her hair and daringly undid her clothes. “If you don’t come here now, Chala, I may take you up on that suggestion, but I did have something more pleasurable in mind than standing over wet dirty garments.” She let her thin robe puddle at her feet and faced him without a trace of shyness. She loved the way he looked at her, the way his eyes darted all over her body as if he could not decide where he wanted to look first.
Tavi threw one last pebble that clattered against a stone wall and then he approached her. “You are a minx, girl. I am trying to practice and yet all you do is distract me.”
“I’ve let you practice long enough, Tavi. You’ll exhaust yourself. I’ve seen others use their furies until they are practically dead. I do not want that for you. I have need of you.” She winked, implying one thing, but meaning so completely another.
“But I’m doing so little - a few stones, a light breeze. They exhaust themselves moving walls of stones, turning back oceans, and keeping themselves in the air.” Tavi threw himself on the ground and Kitai knelt next to him, undoing the first of his clothes’ fastenings.
“Of course, but they have been practicing for years, moving small stones at first, and growing with their furies. They were not moving boulders at first, either. Have we not discussed this before?”
“We have.” Tavi pouted and Kitai couldn’t help but kiss him. Right now he looked like a petulant child. “And you are, as always, Marat, right.”
Kitai removed the last of his clothing and then straddled him, triumphant. “Oh, I know. And you are wise to acknowledge it.”
Tavi kissed her back and his furycrafting practice was officially over.