Chapter Text
“C’mon, just once?” There's a pleading look in Catherine's blue eyes.
Shamir frowns, pulls her gaze away. It’ll take more than a pretty face to persuade her.
“Is this necessary?” she asks. They’re in Shamir’s quarters, afternoon sunlight filtering in through the windows. Catherine is interrupting Shamir’s regular equipment maintenance. At least she’s finally learned to knock before she barges in.
“It’s no fun when you put it that way,” Catherine pouts.
Shamir maintains her stoic expression.
“I’ll leave you to it then.” Catherine gives Shamir a dispirited wave of parting before she slinks away.
It’s not the first time Catherine asks Shamir to join her for choir practice. It’s not Shamir’s first refusal, and it’s not going to be her last. She despises choir. The idea of singing songs of worship and having her voice drown in everyone else’s sends shivers down her spine. She doesn’t understand how Catherine can enjoy casting away her individuality like that.
She resumes her task, soon forgetting that Catherine ever stopped by in the first place.
---
Catherine pulls a hand through her hair in aggravation when she walks away from Shamir’s room. She’s lost count of how many times she’s asked Shamir now, but her answer is always negative. It’s not just Shamir. While she has no shortage of sparring partners and more students than she can take on who want to learn swordplay from her, they seem to shun her where singing practice is concerned.
She’s tried asking professors and students alike, but no matter what they’ll only join her for one or two sessions. After that they’ll always find an excuse not to. Catherine still gets to sing in the bigger group practice sessions when she wants to, but she’d like to hone her skills in a setting where she’s better able to hear her own voice.
Apart from the occasional traveler she hasn’t been able to convince anyone to join her for practice in months. Which is why she’s been asking Shamir of late. A huff escapes her. The woman is her partner, for crying out loud! She should be able to spare a moment for Catherine.
Fueled by her frustration, Catherine retreats to her quarters to practice on her own.
---
It’s a quiet day at the monastery. Most of the knights and students are out on missions. Catherine is part of the crew holding down the fort this time. Shamir is too, although they’re patrolling separate areas. Not much is likely to happen with so few people around, so there’s a minimum of knights stationed.
Catherine is walking along the pond, about to turn around and make her way back to the monastery’s main gate when her ears pick up a sound she can’t seem to identify. She decides to investigate. As she gets closer to the source, she realizes that it’s a woman singing. She doesn’t recognize the voice, but it’s beautiful.
Curiosity gets the better of her as she takes the liberty of getting closer so she can find out who this mystery talent is. Must be either a student or a traveler.
Her investigation takes her past the dormitory and up two flights of stairs to a sparsely visited nook of the monastery. She doesn’t want to disturb them now that she’s closing in, so she does her best to move silently. Progress is painfully slow. Moving quietly in her armor is no simple task. Luckily there’s some wind blowing, and the rustling of nearby trees masks the sounds she can’t avoid making. The singer continues, either unaware or not bothered by Catherine’s presence.
After what feels like an eternity she peeks around the corner and sees Shamir sitting on a stone bench. There’s no one else around.
“No way, you sing?” Catherine blurts out.
Shamir yelps and turns to Catherine, her eyes wide.
“Catherine! Aren’t you supposed to be patrolling down by the main gate?”
Catherine steps forward. “I heard a suspicious noise so I went to investigate. I didn’t know you sing.” She crosses her arms. “And you’re good at it,” she says, a reproachful tone to her voice.
“This is about choir practice, isn’t it?” Shamir groans. “It’s not you I’m avoiding.”
“Then why?” Catherine demands.
“Choirs creep me out,” Shamir says. “It’s all about worship. Your voice disappears in the crowd. It makes me feel like I’m part of an ant colony. How can you stand it?”
“You know that choir practice doesn’t have to be with a big group of people, right? It could be just you and me,” Catherine says. “It could be fun.”
“Maybe,” Shamir shrugs.
Catherine’s gaze falls on the book that rests in Shamir’s lap. A compilation of hymns.
“You can read notes?” she asks. “I thought you just said you don’t like songs of worship.”
“Requested a few private lessons when I first came here,” Shamir explains. “The church must’ve approved because they thought it would help with my faith.” She smirks. “And yeah. I don’t. I make up my own lyrics.”
“You what?!” Catherine exclaims.
“I’ll show you,” Shamir chuckles. She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. When she sings she sounds like an entirely different person. However, the words that come out of her mouth are very much Shamir-like. Catherine’s features pull into a frown as she realizes what Shamir is doing.
“And the Goddess’s arrows shall smite the sinful centipedes and spiders,” Shamir sings. She opens her eyes and regards Catherine.
“Not funny?” she asks when Catherine still hasn’t responded.
Anger wells up inside Catherine. “That’s blasphemy. You can’t just rewrite a holy song.”
“You’ll like my other versions even less then,” Shamir remarks in her usual detached manner.
“The knights tolerate your lack of faith. Why must you constantly toe the line?” Catherine snaps, her temper flaring. Shamir may be her partner and a dependable ally, but her fragrant disrespect challenges her patience. If it wasn’t for Rhea making an exception because of Shamir not hailing from Fodlan she’d have been kicked out of the knights several times over.
“I’m simply staying true to my own convictions, like you do to yours,” Shamir says.
Catherine stands in silence as she does her best to quell her emotions. Rhea tolerates Shamir, so Catherine will. Not to mention Shamir is her partner and her senior in the knights, if only by one year.
She plops down next to Shamir.
“Guess that answers why you won’t sing around me,” Catherine grumbles. “Is it that big of a deal though? You can sing the words without meaning them.”
“Wow.” Shamir laughs. “You really are desperate for someone to sing with! I committed heresy in front of you just five seconds ago.”
Catherine heaves a sigh and rests her face in her hands. “It’s just that no one ever wants to join me for an impromptu practice session. I’ve asked practically everyone at the monastery at this point.”
“That’s because you sound like a dying cat when you try to reach the high notes,” Shamir says.
“What? How did you-”
“Sound carries well enough in the knights’ quarters. Word gets around,” Shamir says. “No one’s told you before?”
“They haven’t,” Catherine confirms. She can only hope she doesn’t look as disturbed as she feels. “Probably didn’t want to hurt my feelings. At least that explains it. Guess I’m out of luck, huh?” She chuckles weakly.
“You do well enough with the other notes,” Shamir says. “It’s just when you’re straining to hit the high ones.”
“Then what do I do?” Catherine asks. Shamir obviously knows what she’s doing, so she’d be a fool to pass up the chance for advice. She does her best to ignore the implication that Shamir has been eavesdropping on her. That just doesn’t feel right.
“Sing a different part,” Shamir says. “Or you could try to expand your range through practice, though there are limits to what’s possible.”
“And here I thought I was doing well,” Catherine sighs. “I like my current parts.” They’re familiar and she doesn’t have to think too hard about them. Similar to when she swings her sword, her muscles have become accustomed to the motions. The idea of having to start over from the beginning is disheartening.
“I have a proposal.,” Shamir says. “I’ll help you practice.”
“Oh, that’s ki-“ Catherine begins, but Shamir cuts her off.
“With a few conditions attached,” Shamir continues. “One, you’ll not ask me to join you for choir practice in the future. Two, I’m allowed to use whatever lyrics I want in our practice sessions,” she smirks.
“You’re hopeless!” Catherine exclaims. “Keep your sacrilegious words to yourself.”
She stands and stomps off.
Not even a week passes before Catherine takes Shamir up on her offer.