Tavi of Calderon (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
student_of_impossibility) wrote2010-05-24 09:27 pm
student_of_impossibility) wrote2010-05-24 09:27 pm
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[OOM: Academy (A. Imp.)] Singled out
Tavi had been surprised enough as it was to have been asked to come in for a training session outside of the normal schedule—between semesters, at that—and he reasoned that he shouldn’t have been as… disconcerted as he was by the fact that when he arrived, only Killian was there. “Maestro,” he greeted the old man.
“Tavi.” He nodded in Tavi’s direction. “You’ve been training outside of lessons and your assignments.”
Not a question; Tavi thought of the extra, relaxing exercises in tactics he’d been running himself through, and the physical training simply to keep up with Max and the others. “Yes,” he replied—not belligerently, not ashamedly, not cheekily, not nervously; he simply stated the fact.
Killian smiled a little at the tone of his reply. “Why?” he asked simply.
Tavi remained quiet for a few moments, biting his lip. “I have to,” he said finally. He met the Maestro’s eyes levelly. “The First Lord gambled on my being able to help the Realm, even though I’m…” He stopped, flushing with the old humiliation. “I can’t even keep up with Max and Ehren and Gaelle if I don’t.”
“And you want to do more than keep up.” Killian looked at him shrewdly. “You spend extra time on schoolwork when you don’t have to.”
Flushing again, though this time with rueful, almost guilty embarrassment, Tavi declined to actually answer that. He’s discovered a drive to succeed he’d only vaguely realized he had. After a moment, he added to the silence of his response, “It’s interesting. And enjoyable.”
Killian considered him a moment longer before beginning to pace a little. “So. You aim to be as capable as possible in aiding the Crown in ways which do not rely on crafting power you don’t have,” he mused, and it was only the approval in his voice that kept it from being outright painful for Tavi, “and you exert yourself to ensure your handicap does not interfere with your combat abilities.”
Just as Tavi began to object, the old man struck at him with his cane without warning. Somewhat instinctively and with little to no grace, Tavi tried to bat it away and cursed as it stung his hand.
“Bloody crows,” he swore. “Maestro, what…”
The cane moved to thwack him in the leg, and he swore again. “Don’t take that tone with me,” Killian said briskly. “Faster. Be more aware of your surroundings.” He swung again, and this time Tavi (a little more forewarned) flicked it aside with less of a sting to his hand. “Better. Again.”
Tavi blinked, narrowly missing the next swipe, much to Killian’s disapproval. He didn’t have time to think or analyze the Maestro’s actions, needing all his focus to block, sidestep, and counter the blind old man’s strikes with his hands. However, it registered dimly in the back of his mind that this was training he wouldn’t be getting with the rest of the group. Killian was aware of his extra efforts.
Killian was helping him.
Several hours of grueling work later, Killian told him, “If you wish to excel, it will take pain and time. Come back tomorrow. And as training for your future as a Cursor—do not give your friends any indication, words or skill, or that you are getting extra training.”
Tavi bowed a little. “Yes, sir,” he said with a mix of exhaustion and gratefulness in his voice. “I’ll do my best.”
Killian almost smiled for a moment before saying, with dead seriousness, “Do better.”
Lifting his chin and firming his jaw a little, Tavi nodded his acquiescence. Then, with another bow, he limped off to the baths to try to relax his sore muscles before getting sleep. He had an early day running messages in the morning.
“Tavi.” He nodded in Tavi’s direction. “You’ve been training outside of lessons and your assignments.”
Not a question; Tavi thought of the extra, relaxing exercises in tactics he’d been running himself through, and the physical training simply to keep up with Max and the others. “Yes,” he replied—not belligerently, not ashamedly, not cheekily, not nervously; he simply stated the fact.
Killian smiled a little at the tone of his reply. “Why?” he asked simply.
Tavi remained quiet for a few moments, biting his lip. “I have to,” he said finally. He met the Maestro’s eyes levelly. “The First Lord gambled on my being able to help the Realm, even though I’m…” He stopped, flushing with the old humiliation. “I can’t even keep up with Max and Ehren and Gaelle if I don’t.”
“And you want to do more than keep up.” Killian looked at him shrewdly. “You spend extra time on schoolwork when you don’t have to.”
Flushing again, though this time with rueful, almost guilty embarrassment, Tavi declined to actually answer that. He’s discovered a drive to succeed he’d only vaguely realized he had. After a moment, he added to the silence of his response, “It’s interesting. And enjoyable.”
Killian considered him a moment longer before beginning to pace a little. “So. You aim to be as capable as possible in aiding the Crown in ways which do not rely on crafting power you don’t have,” he mused, and it was only the approval in his voice that kept it from being outright painful for Tavi, “and you exert yourself to ensure your handicap does not interfere with your combat abilities.”
Just as Tavi began to object, the old man struck at him with his cane without warning. Somewhat instinctively and with little to no grace, Tavi tried to bat it away and cursed as it stung his hand.
“Bloody crows,” he swore. “Maestro, what…”
The cane moved to thwack him in the leg, and he swore again. “Don’t take that tone with me,” Killian said briskly. “Faster. Be more aware of your surroundings.” He swung again, and this time Tavi (a little more forewarned) flicked it aside with less of a sting to his hand. “Better. Again.”
Tavi blinked, narrowly missing the next swipe, much to Killian’s disapproval. He didn’t have time to think or analyze the Maestro’s actions, needing all his focus to block, sidestep, and counter the blind old man’s strikes with his hands. However, it registered dimly in the back of his mind that this was training he wouldn’t be getting with the rest of the group. Killian was aware of his extra efforts.
Killian was helping him.
Several hours of grueling work later, Killian told him, “If you wish to excel, it will take pain and time. Come back tomorrow. And as training for your future as a Cursor—do not give your friends any indication, words or skill, or that you are getting extra training.”
Tavi bowed a little. “Yes, sir,” he said with a mix of exhaustion and gratefulness in his voice. “I’ll do my best.”
Killian almost smiled for a moment before saying, with dead seriousness, “Do better.”
Lifting his chin and firming his jaw a little, Tavi nodded his acquiescence. Then, with another bow, he limped off to the baths to try to relax his sore muscles before getting sleep. He had an early day running messages in the morning.