FicWad

The first time Auron had participated in a fast at the monastery, he had complained all throughout the first day, feigned illness on the second and became actually, truly quite sick on the third. That had been over four years ago and since then, his body had become better accustomed to enduring them and he now fully understood and appreciated their purpose. That did not mean, however, that he despised them any less. Five days of intaking nothing save meager portions of a harsh and sour cleansing tea that made him retch every with every swallow. Furthermore, hunger made him impulsive and short-tempered, which could make a young warrior monk trained with a broadsword a dangerous thing. But he was a monk, and this is what monks did.

Wen Kinoc hadn't joined the monks at Bevelle to be a monk. Not exactly/. Certainly he considered himself to be a pious Yevonite, but he liked the /idea of the warrior monk more than the actual process of becoming one. His mother wanted her boys to be successful, though, so when his athletic older brother had been recruited by the Luca Goers, she decided it was time for her younger son to find his way. Kinoc wasn't exceptionally skilled or particularly interested in much of anything, other than a distant and dim hope of a successful life. Therefore, his mother had decided the only fitting career for her aimless son was to become Maester. The path of a warrior monk was the most accessible path to influence for those that lacked connections and wealth. And, after his mother had framed the idea with her flashy and forceful adjectives, he supposed political power held a certain appeal. That, and the fact his mother threatened to cut off financial and familial support if he didn't join the Bevellian brotherhood and earn a promotion within five years had brought him here. And now he was in the armory of Bevelle, polishing swords that did not belong to him while his head throbbed with the hunger of his first fast.

"Auron."

Auron at sixteen was the closest in age to his seventeen and upon arriving at the temple, Kinoc had guessed incorrectly that Auron would be the most sympathetic to his gripes with the temple. Instead, Auron was a living cornerstone of Yevonite precepts and Bevellian authority, even less sympathetic than Ikvan, at times. Still, the two had fostered an honest, if somewhat default friendship.

"Hmm?"

"Aren't you hungry?"

"Of course."

"Yevon, I'm /starving/. Don't you ever wonder why they make us do this?"

Auron gave a sour look. The divine name should not be tossed about so casually. "No wondering. I /know/. And you would too, if you'd follow the readings."

Auron could be such a jackass. "I suppose it's meant to make us consider the sacrifices of some ancient Spiran hero or something, eh?"

"In part. It honors the final duty of high summoners. Also, there are not always regular daily meals in the battlefield." Auron inspected his polishing work against the blushing glint of the afternoon sun.

Through the window, Kinoc eyed the monastery's gated apple orchard wolfishly. "You think they'd notice an apple missing?"

"Certainly. They count them. I've been on that duty myself." In spite of himself, Auron liked having answers to questions. It wasn't pride though, as pride has no place in the spirit of a Yevonite monk.

Kinoc groaned. Three more days. He couldn't handle it. Didn't they know he was here to become Maester? Maesters weren't subject to these silly rituals. They could eat what and when they wanted. They could even be with girls. On Sin's own grave, did he ever miss girls. He grimaced as Auron shifted a sword from his left to right hand, considering its weight and the grip on the hilt. Auron had been here since he was a kid. He probably didn't even know what he was missing. It must be easy for him, and that grated on Kinoc. Bastard. Kinoc turned the katana he was holding, studying the slight arch of the blade. He could learn to fight with this thing. Then, surprising even himself, Kinoc lunged at Auron, wielding the blade haphazardly.

Off-guard and unarmed, Auron twisted to block the blow with his shoulder and the harmless flat side of the blade slapped against him.

Auron's face cracked into a smile as he selected the nearest broadsword. At that age, he was an overeager fool for the fight. Kinoc came at him again and Auron caught the attack with his own blade. Kinoc's attempts at fighting were flawed and undisciplined, full of desperate, wild jabs that left him open and vulnerable. It was disappointingly easy to keep up with him. Kinoc was already beginning to tire when Auron made his first offensive move. Auron went low, putting force into the force into the swing, striking with the flat edge.

Kinoc toppled, dropping the sword and landing hard on his wrists.

Auron shouldered his blade and offered his other hand to his friend with a grin. "You shouldn't land your falls like that, you'll hurt your hands."

Kinoc glared, weakly punching Auron's hand away. It was time for Kinoc to speak like a leader. He should choose his words eloquently. But now right now his backside hurt and he was tired and all the hunger of two days and a few hours had exposed every nerve and this jackass, this why-did-he-even-call-him-a-friend asshole was daring to give him fighting advice in this undignified moment of defeat. Fucker was so calm, too. "Y-you. Think. You think you're..." Kinoc curled his shaking lip and exploded in a shrieking howl.

Auron stepped back from his seething friend, his smile gone. He hadn't expected this reaction. He quickly replaced the borrowed sword and exposed both palms in a gesture of neutrality.

"Don't even fucking..." Kinoc pulled himself off the ground, dizzy with rage and disgrace; he braced himself against his knee and the sword. He had to do something. Turning at his heel, Kinoc plunged the sword into the thick wood of the armory door.

Auron winced as the blade wobbled from the force of the strike. He was surprised it did not break. That was not the proper use of weaponry. He eyed Kinoc cautiously, now seething spittle from his clenched teeth like a fiend.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Kinoc trembled. The priests had been doubtful about letting the chubby, slow-moving teenager join their ranks and now he'd proven himself unable to command /himself/, let alone the armies he half-heartedly hoped to lead. And this cloistered, clueless sonofabitch had seen it all. He opened his mouth. He needed strong and dignified words now. He needed the inspired, soul-stirring articulations of a high summoner. Instead, he began to cry. Long guttural, horrifying sobs. With tears and snot. He couldn't help it. He couldn't speak. He could barely breathe. Half-broken, Kinoc stood --sobbing, infantile and pathetic before the younger monk.

Auron wasn't sure what to say. Auron wasn't sure what to do. This was not how monks behave. He felt weaker and more ineffectual than he'd ever felt in the wake of defeat. "I'm sorry."

In one motion Kinoc yanked the blade from the door and hurled it low, like a Hypello's boomerang, skittering to a stop before Auron's feet. "Don't need any apologies from you." He grunted, spitting phlegm on the dirt of the armory floor before he left and slammed armory door, the wall-mounted weaponry clattering slightly.

Feeling slightly crooked and unsettled, Auron set about silently finishing the work for the both of them, his hand tremoring slightly as he took up the polishing rag.

----

Kinoc still despised the claustrophobic wooden slats upon which monks slept. However, once one is half starved out of their body and completely worked out of their soul, even the privileged son of a Maester could slumber soundly upon such shoddy accommodations.

The apple was bruised and beginning to spoil, which made it nauseatingly fragrant. Remembering hunger, Auron's stomach thrashed and snarled at the smell. He had saved the apple from his last meal, hoping to break his fast with his favorite fruit. He didn't particularly like the idea of possibly supporting a transgression of temple law, but there were times when his personal order of loyalty blurred. The temple certainly came before friends, and Yevon came before the temple. And he felt pity for Kinoc, certainly. But that wasn't why Auron was about to leave this apple at the bedside of his snoring friend. No. Auron believed Kinoc could serve the temple and Yevon well, but that wouldn't happen Kinoc were to give up on his studies and leave the monastery. The temple and Yevon suffer with the loss of every single monk. Thus, he was doing this for the good of Yevon. And furthermore, there was no precept proclaiming that one couldn't set an apple beside a bedside. And that was all he was doing. Yes. What happened afterward couldn't be his responsibility. Still, his heart quivered.

Auron placed the fruit near Kinoc's bedside candle, but in a mirthful afterthought dropped it into one of Kinoc's temple-issued boots instead.

Retreating to his own bunk, Auron gathered himself in a brief prayer. He hoped he had done the right thing. He had nothing else to offer.