Title/Theme: Mishaps With Fire (Crossing Classes # 3)
Fandom: Fire Emblem: Rekka no Ken
Pairing: Erk/Serra
Rating: PG-13
They say that the gods- or goddesses, whichever happens to be up there- always give us our specific gifts for a reason. This is all well and good, I suppose. I mean, it's nice to think that we were each personally handed abilities that we were predetermined to be mind-blowingly awesome at. Of course, the opposite end of that handy little coin is home to the ugly face of limitations. In exchange for the natural talents we are born with, we aren't supposed to be curious little children sticking our noses where they don't belong. A swordsman, for example, should never strive to become an archer. It really just messes with the natural order of things. Limitations, our creators placed upon us. Limitations.
I don't do so well with imitations. Lord Pent and Lady Louise once had to nurse me back to health after I spent a good while ignoring basic human needs- like eating and sleeping for example. Minor things like that. So while I admit that I lack the necessary physical prowess to brashly brandish a burly broadsword, who is to say that one who was born with an affinity for thunder magic could not also learn to use fire tomes as well? Well, the gods- or goddesses- probably say so.
But to that I said 'challenge accepted'.
Lord Eliwood seemed to be reluctant when I told him my intentions, but that did not seem to keep him from allowing me space behind the encampment to practice away from everyone else. This was, presumably for their safety. If it were Lord Pent, then I suppose such precautions would not be necessary. But alas, this is me.
Making sure that I was a suitable distance from the surrounding trees, I began reading from the fire tome I borrowed. From whom I borrowed it, I haven't the slightest idea. I suppose someone somewhere might be missing it, but if they were short-sighted enough to leave it out in plain sight unprotected, they might as well have been asking me to come along and use it. They clearly weren't using it anyway.
It was harder than I imagined it would be. I kept repeating the incantation on the pages of the fire tome over and over again to little result. If it had been a thunder tome, the ground would have been charred like Hector after a really long day in the sunshine. But for some reason, no matter how many times I repeated the words over and over again, nothing happened- not one spark, ember, or flicker of heat. I frowned. How terribly obnoxious. However, giving up- at least in my mind- was something people did when they accepted limitations. I believe I already covered my stance on human limitations. Somebody was going to have to carry me back to the camp at the end of the day- or two- but I was going to make this work.
Concentrating harder, I shut everything out- from the rustling of the wind through the leaves of the trees overhead to the chirping of the birds that flew between them. The world, for once, was a lovely tone of complete and total silence. Breathing deeply, I set my eyes once more on the script sprawling across the well-worn parchment. It wasn't necessary, however. I had the words memorized by that point. However, when playing with fire, even one small mistake could always prove to be disastrous. It was always better to err on the side of caution. Without allowing my mind to take any further details, I spoke. This time, the words were different.
I felt power flow through my voice- just like when I made use of my own thunder tomes. Suppressing a wave of excitement that threatened to make my newfound accomplishment null and void by breaking my concentration, I retained my focus at all costs. The script had to be read and recited perfectly- down to the very last stroke of the pen on the paper. The power welled from within me so quickly that it was nearly intoxicating. With each word, the feeling only grew until I had reached the very last of them. I knew I had done it- that nothing could stop the fire that was now coming.
"Errrrrrrrrrrrk!"
The shrill broke the trance-like concentration that I had worked so hard to build like a pebble crashing through a shoddily crafted window at high velocity. I uttered the last word of the incantation while turning to look at the young woman who had- unfortunately- found me despite all my efforts to remain hidden and solitary during my pursuit. She screamed like nothing I had ever heard before in my life in the moments that followed. I had indeed succeeded in making use of the fire tome. I had also- either fortunately or unfortunately as I had not yet decided which- managed to aim it straight at the pink-haired cleric. Wincing, I tried to congratulate myself that I had at least managed to actually do what I set out to.
"You! You tried to kill me, Erk!" She shrieked at me as soon as the initial wave of shock and pain based screaming had subsided. The noble- as if that word should even be used in conjunction with a girl like her- cleric angrily gestured to her ruined dress and the burn that showed red where white fabric should have covered. I drew my eyebrows together in annoyance.
"No, I was trying to cast a fire spell. You just happened to get in the way- as per usual." I spat- my voice dripping with characteristic annoyance. "What is it that you just had to come out here for anyway?"
She glared at me- although she did grimace a bit with the pain of the burn- as if I were an impudent child that did not know his place before such divine beauty. Internally, I scoffed. Divine beauty indeed. It was merely a shame that the divine beauty in question did not know how to keep her perfectly plump lips permanently shut. "You could show a little concern, you miscreant. This hurts, you know. "
Gaping at her in disbelief, I dropped the fire tome that I had managed to keep a grip on despite the shock. "For Saint Elimine's sake, Serra. You're a dragon-blased cleric. Wave your fancy magical stick in the air and fix yourself. I don't have time for this."
"It's called a stave peasant-boy, and if you haven't noticed, I'm not carrying it! Besides, a beauty with such charms as I possess should be carried back into camp by a true gentleman who knows how to treat a damsel in distress. Why, how am I supposed to be expected to walk with such an injury?"
"Well, there aren't any gentlemen out here." I muttered, unable to believe the string of manure she was laying out for me with her words. How utterly ridiculous. Serra was always a damsel in distress in her mind. Not that I was about to admit to her that the strength needed to carry a girl who was nearly as tall as I was is quite beyond me. Because that was completely beyond the point. "Just me. Sorry to disappoint."
Serra growled. For a moment I imagined I was hearing things. But sure enough, the high-born pink-haired cleric actually growled at me. "Well if you're not going to be a gentleman, can you at least rub some ointment on it?"
I raised a brow. "Ointment? What type of ointment?" At my question, she promptly reached into the bag she was carrying and produced a small jar.
"That pretty monk has been working on it. You asked me what I was doing out here. I heard about what you were stupidly trying to do out here and thought you might end up burning yourself and would need it- since you have absolutely no regard for your own well-being."
Frowning, I sighed and took several steps towards a large enough rock for us both to sit on that was currently the home of my discarded cloak and boots. I figured that since Serra had actually managed to show some compassion for anyone but herself and came all the way out here because she was worried about me- a concept I was having a really hard time grasping- I could overlook the fact that she could easily rub such a poultice on her own leg as I could. Sitting down, I motioned for her to limp her way over.
And limp over she did- right up until she took a seat on my lap and making sure I had ample view of her burned but very bare upper thigh. I squeezed my eyes shut in frustration.
"Serra. What exactly are you doing?"
With wide eyes and innocence- feigned or genuine, I could not tell- she looked up at me and tilted her head- causing pink waves to fall across one shoulder. "Making things easier on you out of the goodness of my heart. What else?"
What else indeed. I cleared my throat, hoping that she hadn't caught that for one moment I was on the same train of thought that she undoubtedly was. Then, dipping my fingers into the green mix of only gods knew what, I proceeded to smooth it quickly over the wound on her thigh- eager to be finished with the task as soon as possible. When she hissed in pain at my rough attentions, I had to suppress a groan of annoyance before attempting to be slower. Softer. Gentler.
Gods- or goddesses, whichever- above, that was exactly why I was never meant to be a healer. Human limitations be dammed- as I was fighting a horribly losing battle with them. It was nothing, really. I was healing her. I was merely applying medicinal ointment to a wound- that just happened to be on her damnably attractive, smooth, flawless upper thigh.
And she just happened to be making that damnably knowing face with those damnably smoldering eyes that I had damnably no defense against. But I'll be damned if I didn't put up a fight each and every time.
She leaned over- her breath on the shell of my ear sending a reluctant tinge of a shiver down my spine- and whispered in my ear.
"If you wanted to get me out of my clothes, Erk, are were easier ways."
My free hand found a lace and tugged ever so slightly. She wasn't telling me anything I didn't already know.