Fire Bug (Katurian)

[Katurian Arsov]

When John crouched in front of him, Kat’s first reaction was to flinch away a little – he still didn’t trust this man, and Kat didn’t appreciate people getting that close to him at the best of times. He looked at the older man warily, shaking his head at his questions. ‘I’m fine,’ he told his trainer, double-checking by running his hands over the fabric of his clothes. He was starting to feel claustrophobic – when John got to his feet and moved away, Kat breathed a small sigh of relief.

Thornton echoed Kat’s own words, and then the words of the trainer’s question sank in – for the first time, the Englishman was talking slowly enough for Katurian to really get a grip on what he was saying. Had this happened before? Kat paused, considering.

Not until the accident – but then, he was new to blind targets anyway. They were something he had worked up to, and he hadn’t been allowed to try them until his control of sighted targets was almost perfect. It wasn’t something he ever did when he had his eyes open, and he hadn’t even done it until he was tired, that one time.

Slowly, Katurian nodded. He held his arm forward for Thornton to see, pulling up the sleeve of his top so that the older man could see how far up the scar extended. He leaned his head forward and pulled down the collar, offering a view of the disfigured skin spreading down his back. ‘I was better,’ he said, frowning in thought at how to articulate what he wanted to say. ‘Since this…’ he gestured to his right shoulder to indicate his scars. ‘Not good.’

Regarding the offered hand nervously (he wasn’t convinced that it wasn’t some kind of trick), Katurian hesitated for a moment before taking it, releasing it as quickly as he could as soon as he had allowed the older man to help him to his feet. He was still buzzing from the adrenaline rush, and his hands wouldn’t stop trembling. A nod was the only answer Thornton got to his request, and Kat tried to steady his breathing while he waited for more orders.

[John Thornton]

"Ah," Mr Thornton said slowly, eyes on the scars that ran up his arm and up his collar. "That would do it." It would take a lot of fire to cause that sort of problem, even John could see that. "Well, back on the horse and all that."

He paused, realized that that would most likely be a bit much for someone who clearly had a bit less English then he'd realized. Making sure he spoke with less speed, aware that is own rather thick accent couldn't be helping things, he adjusted his shirt sleeves carefully. "I mean, the longer it takes to try it again the harder it is, or something similar." Never did make much sense to a man who'd never ridden a horse in his life, but his mother had said it a lot, when he was younger and kept getting turned down from apprenticeships.

His hands were shaking. Obviously, it had been a little more of a shock then Katurian was letting on. However, if Mr Thornton had pores that would open and close like a normal person, when not within Ella's power suppression anyway, his palms would no doubt have been clammy. Instead they just felt a bit too warm, but then his body temperature was always a little out of whack.

"Right. Well, putting out fires was the other thing, wasn't it?" he asked after a moment, turning to study the walls. People at any level of vulnerability made him feel decidedly uncomfortable. "Catch your breath, and we can start. Unless you don't feel able to?"

He did not do sympathy well. Not at all.

[Katurian Arsov]

He didn’t know what Thornton was saying to him at all, but it didn’t seem to matter – Kat just looked as though he did, and downed some more water while he had the chance to take a rest. He thought he knew what the older man was trying offer: his own brand of encouragement. So Kat nodded a little, trying to look less shaken than he felt.

Katurian would never have expected sympathy from a trainer – where he came from, they had all been turned out by the same school they worked at: and Odarennyi had never had a reputation for being a nice place. Trainers were all the same, and when people grew up to take on the job, they behaved as they had always been taught. So Kat accepted Thornton’s matter-of-fact demeanour as the norm, and answered him by turning to the logs with a determined expression.

It was the work of a second to have them burning again, and Kat focussed on them, trying to remember the advice he had been given. He held out his hand, making a pressing motion as he channelled his power – the flames started to lower.

But that created another problem: ‘bad habits’ such as using nonessential gestures had been very much frowned upon at Odarennyi, where your future military value was the most important thing. What was the use in becoming reliant on using your hands when all it would do would make things more difficult? It was far more useful if nobody could work out who was causing the fires. Kat pulled his hand away, shoving it back in his pocket, and tried to damp down the flames.

A frown spread over his face, and the back of his neck started to prickle. The flames lowered again, but then sprang up. Kat hissed in irritation, and tried again – he almost had it, but his head started to swim and he pulled back. The logs had almost burned themselves out by this point, and he watched as the flames licked the wood into another pile of ash.

‘Will try again,’ he said after he had taken a deep breath to steady himself, looking up at Thornton a little defiantly. He needed to show that he was willing to keep going – this trainer wasn’t the type to take well to weakness.

[John Thornton]

Turning back around at the sound of crackling flames, Mr Thornton's slightly fever brightened eyes moved slowly between the fire and the student. Interesting, what he was doing with his hands. Even more interesting, teh way he had stuffed tehm back in his pockets. The fire seemed to suffer from it. John frowned and bent down to press out the last of the flames still licking what was left of the wood and dusted his hands together to get rid of the ash.

Why hadn't he just stamped it out? Because it might have melted his shoe, and he would have had to buy new shoes. His skin, on the other hand, did not melt and would not need to be replaced. Perfectly logical and cost effective.

Replacing them quickly, John looked back up to his student. "Suit yourself," he said wearily, not feeling up to fighting him about it. If Katurian felt fine, then he could try again. And if he set himself on fire, then that would be his own fault.

No, that was not right. He'd have to spray him with the fire extinguisher. Mr Thornton checked that he still had it at hand, then frowned in thought. "If using your hands," he held his own up, just to make sure, "Helps, do that. You can try to stop it when you've got more control."

[Katurian Arsov]

Katurian watched, fascinated, as Thornton used to hands to put out the fire.
He was also practically green with envy: the man was fireproof! Everyone had a meta ability that they wished for, and that was Kat’s – he’d wanted to be fireproof for as long as he could remember, and would have given his right arm if it guaranteed he could do what John did just then.

That explained why he had been given this particular trainer – and why the older man had seemed interested rather than nervous at Kat’s displays of pyrokinesis. Kat couldn’t hold down a smile, and he felt a weight lift from his shoulders: setting himself alight wasn’t ideal, but it probably involved less hassle than setting a trainer on fire. He hid his pleased expression when Thornton turned back to him, listening carefully to the older man’s advice.

Kat paused, watching John’s expression carefully in an attempt to work out if he was being genuine. A small frown started between his eyebrows, and his eyes flicked up from the logs on the floor to meet his trainer’s gaze. ‘You are sure?’ he asked – usually he wouldn’t have questioned a trainer, but under these circumstances he felt it was better to make sure he’d understood what he was being told to do. ‘At Odarennyi…’ he shrugged his shoulders and shook his head, trying to convey that he was used to doing things differently.

He didn’t want to take Thornton at his word and then be punished for it – but he didn’t feel he could put it as plainly as that.

[John Thornton]

If he had been at his best, without the headache and the pain behind his nose and the feeling that someone had stolen all his bones, John might have just quirked an eyebrow. Maybe said something like "I am always sure, Katurian," without mispronouncing his name or anything. Instead John just inhaled sharply and wondered why even perfectly respectful students seemed to question every thing he did.

"I am very sure," he said flatly, unable to keep the resignation out of his voice. "And this is Hammel, not Odarennyi," that word was not meant to be said with by the human race. It was like talking through a mouthful of marbles. Why couldn't people just listen to him and not try to second guess everything?

He couldn't even explain his reason behind it; split focus was a terrible idea. No matter what the task, it was always best to do one thing at a time so you could concentrate on perfecting it. If only he could say that in Russian. "Try again," he added, adding more wood then scowling. The bucket was nearly empty. He'd have to go out and get more later. "And tell me why it's hard. So I can help."

[Katurian Arsov]

Had it been any of the other teachers Katurian had met that day, he would have smirked at the pronunciation of the Russian word. But Thornton was too intimidating for that, so Kat made sure that his expression didn’t even flicker at the older man’s struggle. He had the feeling that Thornton was trying to say more than he was actually saying, with that statement – but Kat couldn’t be sure, so he chose to disregard it.

He replied with a grudging nod, attending to his newest task – articulating what exactly was tricky about putting out flames. ‘Starting flames is easy,’ Kat told his trainer, frustrated expression clearly showing that he was doing his best to come up with the right words in English. ‘Stopping is like…’ he paused, took a breath, and tried again. ‘Starting is – ’ Kat snapped his fingers to demonstrate something effortless and immediate. ‘Putting out is like – pushing.’

Did that make any sense? Kat wasn’t sure. He turned back to the logs and set them alight with barely a blink – an action which reassured him. At least he could still do that, even if he was going to fail at everything else.

Kat held out his scarred right hand again, and breathed out slowly as he focussed his power on the flames in front of him. They shrunk slowly, and Kat felt hope well up inside his chest. He was concentrating only on the fire, only on his ability – but then he was brought back to reality by a loud thump from the training room next door.

One distraction was enough. He visibly jumped, and completely lost control: the fire flew upwards in a bright, glowing column, touching the roof above their heads.

The heat and force of the flames pushed Kat backwards. He fell to the floor and threw everything he had at the fire – in a few seconds, everything had burned away. Even paler than he had been before, Kat looked up at Thornton with wide, nervous eyes.

[John Thornton]

"Well, hopefully practice will help," Mr Thornton frowned, taking another moment to turn away so he could swipe his forehead. It had been going relatively well, but he was starting to feel shivery and unpleasant at a rapidly increasing pace. "Just concentrate, and focus."

That was the best advice, really.

Once the logs were blazing again, John stood over them and watching Katurian expectantly, then looked down at the flames as they begun to shrink. While the knock didn't make the trainer jump exactly, he did start a little.

And then his was engulfed in a pillar of flame.

His first thought was one of relief. It was very warm, and he'd been feeling awfully cold. Thornton threw an arm over his eyes because they were a potential weak spot and he did need them. For the few brief seconds the fire lasted, John felt his skin grow taut, like someone had pulled it all back, but then the fire burnt out and he slowly dropped his arm to assess the damage.

Well, the damage done to his clothes at least. Small flakes of ash clung to his shoulders and arms, but there were only patches of the material left, and his undershirt hadn't done much better. The bottoms of his trousers were still smoldering slightly and the englishman bent to pat them out. The trousers were salvageable. His shirt was very much gone.

Putting the rather ragged remains off and using the material to wipe away any soot that had clung, Thornton turned to look at Katurian. He didn't seem to be hurt. On the other hand, if John had been anyone but John it was very likely he would be dead. "Well," he said slowly, looking at the mark in the ceiling. "That was not what we were looking for at all."

He felt a little light headed.

[Katurian Arsov]

Katurian tried to rationalise it. The fear – the sickening terror that feeling the heat on his face had brought back to him, was purely down to one bad experience. And one bad experience was not enough to make him bad at using his ability. It was stupid for him to feel like this, but he couldn’t stop his hands from trembling. Kat unfolded himself from his crouched position against the wall of the training room, and found that he was shivering. He stopped himself with some effort, but didn’t stand up.

Thornton was uninjured. Kat didn’t think he’d ever been more grateful for something in his life – as he got his breathing back, he tried to make sense of his trainer’s presence. Surely someone like him should be somewhere else, somewhere more useful? But as Thornton himself had reminded him, he wasn’t in Odarennyi any more. This whole place was like some sort of parallel universe. Maybe the trainers weren’t here because they were too weak to be of any real use. Maybe they were here because they wanted to be.

He didn’t have time to think about that right now, though. He was too busy trying to work out what would be the best course of action to take: fight, or flight.

Kat was breathing hard. He felt sore, exhausted – as if he had run a marathon. Slowly, he forced himself to his feet. ‘I…’ he should offer to try again, should say something to the effect of ‘I’ll do better next time’, but he couldn’t say that. His lips were pressed tightly together, his collar stuck to his neck. Kat was always too hot, but now he was finally cool – he fought back another shiver as sweat dried up his back. ‘Should I go?’ he asked, surprised at how level his voice sounded.

[John Thornton]

Mr Thornton had managed to regulate his own breathing patterns again, though the fire had not burnt the dratted flu virus away unfortunatly. And really, apart from the slight light headedness he got whenever he exposed himself to a sitatuion that should hurt him but didn't he was fine. Clearly a little more fine then his student. John narrowed his eyes and scowled; the boy looked like he'd just been running away from a tiger, or maybe a bear.

There were bears in Russia, he was sure.

Dark eyebrows lifted in suprise at the question. "We still have at least fifteen minutes to go," John reminded him, then rubbed a hand across his forehead. His head was pounding now, and he really did not feel it was in any way appropriate to be standing in a room with a student without a shirt. "And, as you can see, I'm not hurt. You seem to be physically fine too."

Closing the gap between himself and his student, Mr Thornton rubbed his hands together somewhat awkardly. The look he fixed on Katurian was stern though, even if it lacked hostility. "Don't practise outside of class," he said finally, contemplating touching his shoulder but rejecting the idea. "I think it would be.." horrific, deadly, a disaster "unsafe. Not everyone has my ability, and you might hurt someone, or yourself." again.

There was propably something else he should say like "it wasn't your fault" and "don't worry about it" but they were both lies, really. He should worry about it, because that sort of power required a lot of worry and responsibility, and it was his fault because it was his ability. That might not be fair but then nothing about being a meta really was. "Do something small, to cool off, and then you can leave." he finished, because that was always a thing in sport and so maybe also should apply here. It was as good an idea as any.

He was also aware that there might be a fear problem, and there was no better way to master that then to show himself, and Mr Thornton, that he still had some measure of control.

A single log was thrown into the middle of the room, and John absently rubbed his hands up and down his bare arms.

[Katurian Arsov]

Thornton took a step towards him, and Kat held himself ready for a fight – even though moving his limbs was like trying to walk through water. But then the older man started lecturing him, and Kat had to keep a hold of himself to stop his distain showing on his face. He might hurt someone? That was the first lesson you learned when you were a pyro. Did Thornton think he was stupid? Kat knew how to be safe, and how not to go around killing people. The only time he ever made mistakes was during training – and that was because he never tried to do anything he wasn’t confident in when he didn’t have a trainer around.

It was lucky that Thornton didn’t try and touch him at that point – Kat was wound up enough that it would have only garnered a violent reaction. He’d only been here a day or so, but he’d already had to stop himself from using his fists more than once: it was getting to the stage where Kat didn’t think he’d be able to keep a lid on it, next time.

‘I know that,’ he told his trainer, unable to keep silent in the face of what seemed like patronisation. The only person he had ever injured was himself. ‘I’m not stupid.’ There. He’d said it. Even if Thornton had him up for insubordination, and least he’d made his point: he knew what he was doing.

Katurian didn’t expect sympathy or excuses from his trainer, so he wasn’t surprised when none were forthcoming. He gave a short nod at the older man’s instructions, and looked down at the log when it landed in the middle of the floor.

A small flame started at the end of the log, and moved in a straight line across the top of the piece of wood. There was a slight smile on Kat’s face as he guided the fire, and – after making sure that John was standing well away from the log, this time – he made the flames leap higher. They were still regulated, though, and burned all the way to the ground without catching more than Kat wanted them to. After a few moments, the two halves of the log rolled away from each other.

Kat looked up at Thornton for his opinion, grateful that his breathing had now evened out.

[John Thornton]

Thornton had a temper. He worked on controlling it with his students and with his... with Clarisse, because it was not appropriate but he was getting over the flu, had just lost a perfectly good shirt, and now the boy responsible act like it was all his fault. His grip was slipping a little.

"Don't lose control then," he managed out, though his jaw felt like it was wiring itself shut. He wanted very much to roar that if he had been anyone other then John Thornton he would most likely be dead, or if not close to and so Katurian could wipe that smug smile off his face this instant it would be appreciated.

And now of course he was showing off his control. John watched, face blank as the flames sheared the wood in half as neatly as a buzz saw. When Kat looked up, Thornton just scowled. Now he had control. "Your next session is tomorrow," he snapped. "Don't be late. An' be careful." All the focus on keeping his tone below a shout had let his accent strength slightly, something else that wasn't ideal.

People were very very fragile, no one understood that as well as John, and the thought of that much fire near someone made him feel sick. Though that might have been the flu.

He could use a drink. He could use 100 drinks. Right now.

[Katurian Arsov]

He had to stop himself from flinching – the anger in Thornton’s voice was obvious, and Katurian knew that he had overstepped the mark. But he hadn’t gone too far yet: the trainer was still keeping his anger mostly at bay, and Kat realised with a sinking feeling that he couldn’t back up any further. He was already pressed against the wall, and if he tried to move aside he could only rely on his own natural speed to be able to avoid Thornton.

That the older man would try and hit him, Kat took as a given. It always happened eventually. John moved away just when he was beginning to feel seriously caged in, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

Kat couldn’t help it – it was an involuntary reaction to the barking tone in Thornton’s voice. He stiffened again and all but stood to attention, keeping his eyes front. ‘Sir.’ It was an obvious affirmative, even though his heart was sinking. Sure, he’d expected that his next training session would be tomorrow – but he had allowed himself to forget about that fact, had hoped he would be able to put it off somehow.

As soon as it looked like John was giving him permission to go, Katurian left as quickly as he could.

He was just lucky that he made it to the bathroom before he threw up.