Work Text:
Anisa is about to be fired.
Well, she's pretty sure she's about to be fired. If there's another reason why their captain would interrupt her training for a private meeting, she can't think of it- although to be fair, at the moment she can't think of much besides things she might be getting fired for. There was that situation with the glow cats during the last mission. The kitchen incident a few days ago. She snuck an extra snack from the pantry last night-
She's so entrenched in her thoughts that it takes a moment for her mind to catch up to her feet, and she nearly passes Gramme's office entirely before she realizes where she is. Backing up to stand before the looming wooden door, she takes a deep breath to steel her fraying nerves and adjusts her gloves, wincing slightly as the fabric brushes over the blisters she earned in this afternoon's drills. Her sword hangs heavily at her side, and she takes a second to adjust her belt too. She wonders what the procedure for surrendering a weapon tethered to one's heart is- if there is one. Surely a Relic must have made a mistake before. Gods, she hopes she isn't the first. She starts to fiddle with her gloves again.
Oh, quit stalling, Anisa. She raises a fist to knock, and-
-hesitates. It sounds like there are voices coming from inside the room. The Starsworn who delivered Gramme's message didn't say that anyone else would be joining them. Is there going to be a witness to her humiliation? Or is she about to interrupt something important? Maybe she should come back later. But Gramme did summon her here, so...
Her wavering is mercifully and abruptly cut short when the door slams open, leaving her with her hand hanging awkwardly in the air as one of her teammates- Sage, if she's remembering right- nearly collides with her on his way out of the office. He stares down at her for a heartbeat, tail lashing, ears pinned close to his head, pupils razor-thin. Anisa opens her mouth to say something (hello? watch where you're going? she's not sure) but he just gives her a too-stiff-to-be-casual jerk of his chin and brushes past her down the hallway without a word.
Odd. What was that about? She doesn't have long to think about it before Gramme's voice, rich and certain, draws her attention back to the office.
"You may come in, Anisa."
The Starsworn's leader is seated at his desk with his hands neatly folded in front of him, a serene smile on his face- if some sort of confrontation just happened in here, you wouldn't know it by looking at him. His eyes crinkle slightly at the edges as he motions her into the room; there's something familiar in his expression, like the two of them are sharing a private joke, though she's not entirely sure what the punchline is supposed to be.
Anisa enters the room, closing the door behind her, but as she approaches the desk she pauses again. There's one chair- a very nice chair, from the look of it- and oh, gods, she's still in her grimy training clothes. She really should have changed, but she didn't want to keep Gramme waiting, even if he is about to brutally crush her lifelong dream of being a knight.
There's no way Gramme hasn't noticed her reluctance, but he doesn't seem inclined to acknowledge it. He simply continues to give her the same warm smile as he gestures for her to take a seat. After one more brief bit of consideration Anisa settles for perching carefully on the edge of the chair, keeping her back rail-straight to avoid touching the plush fabric as much as possible. If her clothes hadn't been sweaty before, they'd still be drenched by now.
"My apologies for disrupting your workout," Gramme says once it's clear she's as comfortable as she's going to get. "I understand you take your training very seriously."
The instant she sat down her leg started bouncing at a rabbit's-thumping pace; she forces herself to sit still while she answers. "Yes, Captain."
"Your dedication is quite admirable. And on that subject, I'm sure you're wondering why I called you here- I have been meaning to speak with you about your performance of late..." Anisa's horror must be written across her face, because he quickly continues, "I have these conversations with all of the Starsworn. It is standard procedure, I assure you."
Is it? This is the first she's hearing of it, but that would explain why Sage looked so put-out. She's not proud of herself for thinking it, but if everyone is being evaluated she's a little relieved to be going after him and not Rime.
Gramme clears his throat. "In any case. I merely wished to say that in my opinion, based on what I have observed of you-"
She braces herself.
"-your work thus far has been nothing short of extraordinary."
...
"...Sir?"
Maybe she misheard him.
"It's normal for new recruits to struggle in their first weeks," he says, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes at her obvious bewilderment. "Especially those with the honor- the responsibility- of being chosen by a Relic. But you have made remarkable progress. I don't think I have ever seen someone devote themself so wholly to their training. Or with such enthusiasm." Here he pauses, scratching thoughtfully at his beard. "At the risk of sounding conceited, you remind me a bit of myself in my younger years. Though perhaps if I had shared your commitment to the physical arts rather than the arcane, my knees would not trouble me quite as much as they do these days."
Another pause, like he's expecting a reaction from her; Anisa doesn't know if it's appropriate to laugh at her employer's expense or not, so she gives him a vaguely sympathetic nod instead, which feels worse somehow. She wishes she had a more clever response, but the part of her brain that handles witty repartee seems to have short-circuited. Luckily Gramme seems more than able to carry the conversation for both of them.
"I'll admit, I was surprised when you applied to join the Starsworn." He shuffles some of the papers on his desk into a tidy stack; with some difficulty Anisa resists the urge to read what's written on them, but she thinks she catches a glimpse of the Moonstone Order's seal before she remembers it's none of her business. "Ayanna Anka is one of the most accomplished engineers in Astraea. Some might have expected her daughter to follow in her footsteps." The mention of her mother catches Anisa off guard. She's not sure how Gramme knows about her family- what little she has- but she supposes it's possible that information is stored in a file somewhere. Or maybe he just recognized her last name. "It certainly would have been easier than becoming a knight. Not to imply that your mother would pull strings on your behalf, of course. Nor that you would let her."
If Ayanna wanted to pull strings for her Anisa doubts she would have any say in the matter, but she doesn't tell him that. A question occurs to her, and it's out of her mouth before she can decide whether she actually wants to ask it or not.
"Do you... know my mother?" There's a wryness to his voice when he talks about her that makes Anisa curious. Ayanna has never mentioned him, but there are a lot of things Ayanna doesn't talk about.
Gramme's smile shifts slightly in a way Anisa can't interpret. "Only in passing." The change is gone as quickly as it came, and she wonders if she might have imagined it. "Regardless of you career path, I'm sure she's quite proud of you. As any parent would be, I should think."
Anisa clears her throat and tugs at her gloves, desperately searching for a normal response to that and coming up empty.
Much to her relief, Gramme continues talking before she has to say anything. "Ah, but we seem to have strayed off topic." He sets the papers back on his desk and folds his hands in front of himself again. "I was hoping to ask what drove you to pursue knighthood. I assume you must have quite a compelling reason, given how driven you seem to be."
"I-" She starts to give him an answer and realizes she doesn't have one. "I've always wanted to help people," she says, but even as she says it she knows that's not right. It's true, but it isn't right. Why does she want this so badly? Not for the money, certainly. And as much as she loves her work, there's a lot less glamour in knighthood than the fairy tales led her to believe there would be. What's left, then?
Gramme is looking at her with his brows faintly raised as though he doesn't quite buy that explanation either. "I see." His eyes stay fixed on hers, kind, dark, unreadable. "A noble purpose indeed." After a moment he claps his hands together and pushes his chair back from the desk. "Well! The hour grows late, and no doubt you have better things to do than indulge an old man's blathering. I won't keep you any longer- just know that I expect great things from you, Ms. Anka. Keep up the good work."
She needs a second to process the fact that she's being dismissed- regular-dismissed, not fired-dismissed. Once it hits her she stands a little too quickly, nearly knocking her own chair over in her haste. "I- Yes, of course. I'll be going now. Thank you, Captain." With a formal little bow she bolts from the room before he can change his mind.
It really is getting late; the hallway is much darker than it was when she went into Gramme's office. The other Starsworn are probably in the main hall eating dinner by now. But there's too much going on in her head to think about where she's going, and she doesn't care. She just needs to move. She lets her legs take her where they will as she replays the conversation over and over in her thoughts. Her progress is remarkable. She reminds him of himself. He expects great things from her. And then there's the question she can't answer, the jagged hole she can't plaster over no matter how hard she works. Why is she doing this? Her footsteps echo too loudly in the empty corridor. Someone expects great things from her. She's back at the training grounds again. Maybe some swordplay will clear her mind. She pulls at her gloves, ignoring her blistered palms and rumbling stomach, and returns to her drills.