acceptable losses

[clairelutra]

Preface

Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

F/M

Fandom:

Tortall - Tamora Pierce

Relationship:

Numair Salmalín/Veralidaine Sarrasri

Character:

Numair Salmalín, Veralidaine Sarrasri, Background & Cameo Characters

Additional Tags:

Kemonomimi, Fluff without Plot, Shapeshifting

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2021-09-30 Words: 500 Chapters: 1/1

acceptable losses

by clairelutra

Summary

She looked so peaceful like this—but did she really have to fall asleep on his sleeve?

Notes

100 words of cutting your clothes so as not to wake your catboy catgirl

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Islam_and_cats#Muezza
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dong_Xian

...so basically the prompt was a merger of that story where muhammad chopped off the sleeve of his prayer robe because his cat was sleeping on it and he didn't want to wake her, and that other story where the chinese emperor chopped off his sleeve because his boyfriend had fallen asleep on it and he didn't want to wake him (which incidentally was SO iconic that it became the euphemism for homosexuality at that time). also apparently there might be a chinese (or japanese??) version of the story with the cat, too, but i'm not sure how to look for it.

the moral of the story is: clothing is an acceptable sacrifice in the name of not waking your loved one, that is all.

acceptable losses

Numair knew he should wake her, but she looked so peaceful like this.

Daine must have been having feline dreams—her ears were now perched on top of her head, furry and triangular and smoky brown, twitching as she dozed, and he was waiting for a tail to start poking out from under her tunic. Her hands had gained paw pads, and the nail beds were narrowing down into respectable claw shapes.

She was disconcertingly adorable with her nose and upper lip half shifted, he mused. Nobody should look that appealing when their face was caught halfway between human and animal, but her long, dusty eyelashes and darkening lips pulled it off. Something about the shape of her face made even the most awkward of transitions look graceful.

Now, if only she hadn't fallen asleep on his sleeve.

It was his own fault for wanting to try out the fashion, he supposed, but he hadn't thought he would be seated on any sofas while his student read herself into a nap next to him.

He was going to have to wake her to get up for his responsibilities, he knew, but he couldn't help but prolong the moment.

"Master Numair—sir?" said the runner, shifting impatiently outside of the door. "You're called."

He really, really needed to wake her.

Then she gave the loveliest little sigh as her ear flicked again, more relaxed and happy than he'd seen her in ages, and knew he didn't have the heart to.

Well. He had always thought these sleeves were ridiculous, hadn't he?

"Master—" started the runner, then fell silent when Numair hurriedly shushed him.

"Have you a knife?" he asked in a murmur.

The runner dropped his voice as well. "A... knife, sir?"

"Pocket knife, hunting knife, anything."

"Y-... yes."

Numair held out his hand for it, and, deeply confused and a little wary, the boy came into the room and offered him a sheathed blade—a pocket knife, plain and well-kept.

Pulling the sleeve as taut as he dared, Numair whispered a sharpening spell and pressed the blade against the fabric, wincing as it ripped through the fifty gold piece garment.

Daine didn't stir, however, so he supposed that that was simply the price to be paid. He could have it fixed later, if he cared to.

Feeling decidedly lopsided, he stood carefully, then handed the boy back his knife with a nod of thanks. "Lead the way, then."

The boy glanced between Numair and sleeping, beautiful student and made a face that quite clearly said, Mithros, these rich people, then bowed and turned to guide the mage to his destination.

(Explaining the dearth of sleeve fabric to his peers and betters was as simple as pulling the 'wealthy and eccentric mage' card—explaining it to Daine, on the other hand, as she waved the sleeve in his face and demanded to know why he hadn't just sent her on her way, her now-human cheeks prettily flushed, was much more difficult.)

Afterword