Post by Seek on Sept 19, 2016 1:28:22 GMT 10
Title: Jealousy
Rating: G
Word Count: 637 words
Summary: Kirel isn't as happy with Daja's presence as we're led to believe.
Notes: Okay, I promise to go focus on other things and stop spamming with random fic I'll be good! (But on a more serious note, this explores the idea that someone who really wants to be a decent smith, to the extent of apprenticing under the best might be: A. jealous of how much attention a new interloper is getting, and B. how naturally those fancy smith tricks comes to that new person.)
-
Here is the truth:
It is easy—despicably so—for Kirel to hate the Trader girl that Frostpine has taken under his wing. Daja learns quickly; in a way, it’s almost as if Frostpine is merely helping her re-learn what she already knew. Techniques that take Kirel whole months to master, she learns in a matter of weeks.
He’d asked Frostpine to mentor him in iron, because Kirel has determined that if he can’t be the sort of greatmage that the man is, he can at least be a specialist in one kind of metalwork. And so he’s set himself to the task of mastering iron, of learning how to handle it in its various moods: to learning how to make both humble nails and intricate latticework and armour and vault-locks.
And then, the Trader girl walks into their lives, and she picks up cherry-red iron with her bare hands.
“I told you you would see strange things,” Frostpine says, but all Kirel can think of is the girl; effortlessly holding the red-hot metal and he understands, then, in a way he’s always known before that the world isn’t fair; that what comes naturally to some is a skill earned with sweat and blood and tears for others.
(He misses Lairan, just not the winter.)
Daja works herself ever deeper into the alloy of their lives, and takes on all kinds of work under Frostpine, and Kirel smiles and says nothing else and promises to be good, and sometimes—sometimes he wonders if maybe that’s enough. If you lie enough, if you pretend enough, one day, it’ll become habit, and then it’ll be real.
“Are you all right?” Frostpine asks him, seriously, as they finish off the last piece of the day. Daja is not in that day; a trip to the marketplace, Kirel hears, and perhaps that’s why the man is uncharacteristically grave as he speaks to Kirel.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Kirel asks, lightly, listening to the hiss as the metal is quenched. It’ll form the base for a support-strut, once they’ve finished making the others.
“Kirel,” Frostpine says. Drops his hands to his side. “I understand working with Daja can be…difficult for you. She has ambient smith magic. This means she’ll connect with metal, with smith-work—“ he gestured all about them, at the forge. “—at a level you never will.”
“It’s not going to be a problem,” Kirel says, feeling the dark envy rise in him, quashing it with a will. He almost turns away, but Frostpine makes a sharp, impatient gesture.
“I know it won’t be a problem,” his mentor says. He smiles, but it can’t hide the look of complete seriousness in his eyes. “But I’m asking if you will be all right.”
Kirel considers it, exhales slowly. “I think…I think I’ll need to give it time,” he says, honestly. Because isn’t it the only thing he has to repay Frostpine’s trust: honesty? He sees the look of understanding in Frostpine’s eyes as the shorter man nods.
“Good lad,” he says, reaching up briefly to rest a hand on Kirel’s shoulder. “I’ll leave you to close up for the day. Make sure the finished pieces are covered.”
Kirel nods mutely.
It does take time, and one day, he’s surprised to find himself laughing—genuinely laughing—along with Daja, to find that it doesn’t bother him anymore, that this Trader girl knows metal intimately in a way that he never will.
Her life is not his; this forge—Frostpine’s mentorship—is large enough for the both of them, and more.
For him, he has the joys of smithing. What more does he need?
“Are you coming?” Daja calls, glancing behind him.
“No, I’ll close up for the day!” Kirel shouts back. “You go off and have fun, now!”
It is enough.
Rating: G
Word Count: 637 words
Summary: Kirel isn't as happy with Daja's presence as we're led to believe.
Notes: Okay, I promise to go focus on other things and stop spamming with random fic I'll be good! (But on a more serious note, this explores the idea that someone who really wants to be a decent smith, to the extent of apprenticing under the best might be: A. jealous of how much attention a new interloper is getting, and B. how naturally those fancy smith tricks comes to that new person.)
-
Here is the truth:
It is easy—despicably so—for Kirel to hate the Trader girl that Frostpine has taken under his wing. Daja learns quickly; in a way, it’s almost as if Frostpine is merely helping her re-learn what she already knew. Techniques that take Kirel whole months to master, she learns in a matter of weeks.
He’d asked Frostpine to mentor him in iron, because Kirel has determined that if he can’t be the sort of greatmage that the man is, he can at least be a specialist in one kind of metalwork. And so he’s set himself to the task of mastering iron, of learning how to handle it in its various moods: to learning how to make both humble nails and intricate latticework and armour and vault-locks.
And then, the Trader girl walks into their lives, and she picks up cherry-red iron with her bare hands.
“I told you you would see strange things,” Frostpine says, but all Kirel can think of is the girl; effortlessly holding the red-hot metal and he understands, then, in a way he’s always known before that the world isn’t fair; that what comes naturally to some is a skill earned with sweat and blood and tears for others.
(He misses Lairan, just not the winter.)
Daja works herself ever deeper into the alloy of their lives, and takes on all kinds of work under Frostpine, and Kirel smiles and says nothing else and promises to be good, and sometimes—sometimes he wonders if maybe that’s enough. If you lie enough, if you pretend enough, one day, it’ll become habit, and then it’ll be real.
“Are you all right?” Frostpine asks him, seriously, as they finish off the last piece of the day. Daja is not in that day; a trip to the marketplace, Kirel hears, and perhaps that’s why the man is uncharacteristically grave as he speaks to Kirel.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Kirel asks, lightly, listening to the hiss as the metal is quenched. It’ll form the base for a support-strut, once they’ve finished making the others.
“Kirel,” Frostpine says. Drops his hands to his side. “I understand working with Daja can be…difficult for you. She has ambient smith magic. This means she’ll connect with metal, with smith-work—“ he gestured all about them, at the forge. “—at a level you never will.”
“It’s not going to be a problem,” Kirel says, feeling the dark envy rise in him, quashing it with a will. He almost turns away, but Frostpine makes a sharp, impatient gesture.
“I know it won’t be a problem,” his mentor says. He smiles, but it can’t hide the look of complete seriousness in his eyes. “But I’m asking if you will be all right.”
Kirel considers it, exhales slowly. “I think…I think I’ll need to give it time,” he says, honestly. Because isn’t it the only thing he has to repay Frostpine’s trust: honesty? He sees the look of understanding in Frostpine’s eyes as the shorter man nods.
“Good lad,” he says, reaching up briefly to rest a hand on Kirel’s shoulder. “I’ll leave you to close up for the day. Make sure the finished pieces are covered.”
Kirel nods mutely.
It does take time, and one day, he’s surprised to find himself laughing—genuinely laughing—along with Daja, to find that it doesn’t bother him anymore, that this Trader girl knows metal intimately in a way that he never will.
Her life is not his; this forge—Frostpine’s mentorship—is large enough for the both of them, and more.
For him, he has the joys of smithing. What more does he need?
“Are you coming?” Daja calls, glancing behind him.
“No, I’ll close up for the day!” Kirel shouts back. “You go off and have fun, now!”
It is enough.