Author's Note: Here we are again! I know, two gift fics in one week after all that nothing? Well, we're trying, folks, really we are. Life isn't cooperating recently. BUT! Fear not! Thanksgiving break is next week and there will be more! Thanks for your patience.
Now, here is our gift fic for our winner, QuickStar! And the winning joke, given to her by her friend, was: "Yo daddy is so stupid I told him if he guessed how many dollars are in my pocket I will give him both of them he said three."
Fabulous! On with the show!
Disclaimer: Nothing owned, except what we create. We think you smart people can figure out what we made and what we didn't.
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Broken Down, Building up
Marie huffed, air hissing out of her pursed lips. She glared at the tree trunk a few yards away from her and scowled darkly, glaring at the knife in her hand. Clutching it, she took a deep breath and tried to calm herself, and her temper, down.
Opening her eyes, she took her stance, gently bending her knees. Her arm came back and she paused, taking aim. Then, like a whip she snapped her arm forward, sending the blade hurling end over end, straight towards the target she'd made on the tree.
She began to grin, but it faded as the knife lost momentum and began to wobble, before stabbing into the tree trunk only about a foot off the ground, before loosening and falling out of the tiny notch it had made.
Stomping her foot, Marie charged towards the blade. Snatching it up, she almost threw it to the ground again in her fury. But, she knew it wasn't the knife's fault it had missed and been so weak. It was hers. SHE was the weak one.
Holding in a scream of frustrated rage, Marie turned and trudged back to her standing point, to try again. She couldn't make too much of a fuss. It would worry Evie. Marie brushed her hair out of her eyes, sighing. "I couldn't stand to have Evie see me like this…"
She could feel the tears welling in her eyes and she hated it. She couldn't be weak, not in any way. Evie needed her to be the strong one now. Marie pulled her glasses off and rubbed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose to try and keep the tears at bay.
After a minute or so, she placed the spectacles back in their appropriate place and tried again. The breathing, the stance, the pull, the whip. The blade landed higher, but flew past the tree. At least the last one had HIT the tree.
Marie bit her lip and curled her hands into fists, shaking with the struggle to keep the pain in. She looked down at herself. Emaciated, weak, fingers and limbs thick and unwieldy. Those months tied down in captivity, with little exercise, had ruined her. She could barely walk for two hours, much less do all the running, jumping, climbing and fighting that she needed to.
Sniffling loudly, she went forward to try and find her knife. But, she didn't have to go far. Martello walked out of the trees, holding the blade in his hand. The knife looked ridiculously tiny when he held it.
Martello held out the knife to her and she took it, nodding at him, not trusting her voice. It could give away everything. She'd never been good at hiding her emotions. Evie was the queen of that.
Going back, she repeated her practice. Martello watched every throw. And Marie found herself not minding that he saw her now, while she was weak and unable to fight the way she wanted to. He saw her angry and sad and frustrated and pained, but that didn't matter. She knew, somehow, he wasn't judging her for it.
Finally, after another miserable throw, Marie stormed to the tree and plucked the knife up from where it lay. In her pained frustration, she punched the tree, scratching up her knuckles as she hit it over and over and over again.
A large hand gently grasped her wrist, stopping her from beating on the tree further. Marie looked up, a few tears slipping from her eyes. Martello gazed down at her and pulled her away from the tree.
Carefully, he examined her hand. Finding no extreme damage to it, he simply held it in between the two of his. He knelt down, coming to eye level with Marie. He rumbled something at her and she quirked her head.
He seemed to think for a moment, then spoke. "Not you error. You be strong soon. Wait."
Marie nodded, a few more tears dripping from her eyes. No matter what he said, it still felt like it was her fault. She had been weak, and it had cost her, and more importantly Evie, so much. She tried to stop the tears and pull away, to practice more.
Martello didn't agree with this. He held her hand, and then tugged her closer. She struggled a little, but it was more for show than anything. He wrapped a strong arm around her and gave her a gentle squeeze. It was the best hug she had ever had.
He pulled back and stood, patting her head. He stepped away and pointed at the target again. Marie smiled. She hadn't felt so at peace in a long time. Maybe it really wasn't her fault.
She went through her motions once more, and finally it felt right. The knife soared through the air and struck her target. It wasn't dead on, but it was in the ring and it was a deep hit. Walking forward, it actually took a bit of effort to pry the weapon loose.
She turned to Martello and gave him a thumbs up and her best smile.
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Dho'mago'te nodded as finally Dai'za'te landed a blow. He had known about her frustrations for some time, no matter how she tried to hide them. He applauded her efforts to keep her thoughts hidden, like any good warrior, but he could tell that it was eating away at her.
He hadn't meant to step in. She needed to work through her struggles on her own. But it had pained him to see her so weak and angry with herself. All warriors had a lapse at some point. And her enemies had come at her and Faru'qi in the dark, in the night, while they slept. He expected such behavior from low beasts, Kainde Amedha, but he had expected better from Oomans.
He clacked his mandibles softly, thinking, watching Dai'za'te practice, getting better each throw. He did not understand why he took the actions he had. He had intended only to watch her, to be near in case any Kainde Amedha were near.
But seeing her injure herself, purposefully, turning her frustrations on herself, was too much. He did not want to watch her suffer. He had meant to only pull her away until she calmed and could think rationally once more.
But, there was something in her eyes, in her small, pale face. Maybe it was the shine at the corners of her eyes, or the way her oddly shaped mouth trembled. He could not leave her to torture herself.
So, he tried to comfort her. He had told her that the way of a warrior was hard, and that she was lucky her mistake had not cost her life. That he believed in her and her strength, that she would improve and become a better warrior from this.
But, of course she did not understand. So, he did his best to soothe her in her own tongue. It did not seem enough. Something was still eating away at her on the inside, like a Kainde Amedha incubating. She seemed too fragile, too weak, too afraid. Where was the brave warrior he had seen, wildly and purposefully taunting hordes of Kainde Amedha?
He wished for that Dai'za'te again. He knew from his studies that Oomans wrapped arms around each other for comfort. He had seen Dai'za'te and Faru'qi do it many times. Perhaps it would work this time. So, he tried it. And work it did.
Dai'za'te was appearing once more, growing back into the fierce and wild warrior he had admired for so long. She would be different, but different was not bad.
Dho'mago'te started from his reverie when Dai'za'te laid a hand on his arm. He looked down at her white face, her eyes almost glowing amongst the paleness. She bared her teeth at him, patted his arm, spoke to him, then turned back to camp.
He followed closely, moving to walk next to her. Something had left her, he could see it in the way she moved. Seeing her relaxed caused him to relax. He forgot his thoughts and confusion towards the small being next to him and simply reveled in the fact that she would, once again, be herself.