It was with deep, laboured breaths that the girl felt her senses return and her once spinning mind calming down once more. Her stomach gave a twist, and insisted on relieving itself much to her dismay. There was a few gurgled gasps, a distinct dry retching noise for several chimes before finally she recovered to a slightly more stable level. Her limbs still hung heavy, tired and aching, her back barely upright as she could do little more than sit. Hands rested on her lap, nostrils flaring as she continued to draw in deep rattling breaths. Gods, she felt awful. More so when her mentor insisted upon the next level of her initiation. Bleary eyed she looked at him then down at her hands with a brief sense of confusion. Lips pursed as she forced herself to focus, pupils growing sharp and judgemental almost upon her finger tips.
“Kind of feels… funny,” she closed her eyes to aid in her concentration, “Fluttery and light. Weightless yet also really heavy.” She flexed the fingers of her left hand, forcing movement through the slow, sluggish focus. She felt it prickle, the nerve endings tingling as she urged a gentle pull. They gave a twitch, but there was nothing. A second, yet still nothing came. Sighing the girl shook her head, it seemed hopeless.
And then she remembered the strings of a puppet.
Her mind imagined a collection of ties and strings, laced together weaving in and out to form the very muscles of her arm. She envisioned the flexing of tendons, the held together joints wrapped up within this astral weave. Her brow furrowed slightly as she closed down upon the sensation, picking and unravelling it at the joint of her wrist. The stitching fell, loosening and withdrawing as gently pulled and willed at it. She exhaled, her right hand holding tightly onto her forearm as she finally felt the hand go limp.
There was a brief moment of worry and panic, of concern that she had indeed done it right. Cracking an eye open she looked down to the lifeless limb, and felt the faint movement of her fingers of her astral. She gave a flinch, then remembered the pebble Aleric spoke about picking up a pebble.
“Pebble… pebble…” she muttered before looking at the one he was talking about. It was a tiny thing, barely bigger than her thumb. There should be no issue in lifting that.
How very wrong she was. Her astral fingers gave a flex, hovering over it for a chime. She licked her lips, and reached her astral down to pick it up. They gripped around it, weak and unwilling as she went to lift, only to have the tips slip away and the piece lay there unmoving. She went for it again, more forceful this time sending her entire astral palm around it and clawing with her fingers. Jaw clenching, eyes burning at the pebble she encouraged movement in it, she stared and glared. She was far from impressed.
Groaning she let her focus rest upon it, the outside world being drowned out. Her lip twitched, the stone giving a subtle tremble and sign of movement as she leaned over it. Her astral gave a pull, firmed and harder this time, and then turned into a full blown yank. The pebble lifted sharply, flipping into the air as the weak astral hold trembled and failed at maintaining its hold. With a patter it returned to the floor, rolling and turning. Fallon’s shoulders slumped, “Like that Mist- Aleric?”
“Kind of feels… funny,” she closed her eyes to aid in her concentration, “Fluttery and light. Weightless yet also really heavy.” She flexed the fingers of her left hand, forcing movement through the slow, sluggish focus. She felt it prickle, the nerve endings tingling as she urged a gentle pull. They gave a twitch, but there was nothing. A second, yet still nothing came. Sighing the girl shook her head, it seemed hopeless.
And then she remembered the strings of a puppet.
Her mind imagined a collection of ties and strings, laced together weaving in and out to form the very muscles of her arm. She envisioned the flexing of tendons, the held together joints wrapped up within this astral weave. Her brow furrowed slightly as she closed down upon the sensation, picking and unravelling it at the joint of her wrist. The stitching fell, loosening and withdrawing as gently pulled and willed at it. She exhaled, her right hand holding tightly onto her forearm as she finally felt the hand go limp.
There was a brief moment of worry and panic, of concern that she had indeed done it right. Cracking an eye open she looked down to the lifeless limb, and felt the faint movement of her fingers of her astral. She gave a flinch, then remembered the pebble Aleric spoke about picking up a pebble.
“Pebble… pebble…” she muttered before looking at the one he was talking about. It was a tiny thing, barely bigger than her thumb. There should be no issue in lifting that.
How very wrong she was. Her astral fingers gave a flex, hovering over it for a chime. She licked her lips, and reached her astral down to pick it up. They gripped around it, weak and unwilling as she went to lift, only to have the tips slip away and the piece lay there unmoving. She went for it again, more forceful this time sending her entire astral palm around it and clawing with her fingers. Jaw clenching, eyes burning at the pebble she encouraged movement in it, she stared and glared. She was far from impressed.
Groaning she let her focus rest upon it, the outside world being drowned out. Her lip twitched, the stone giving a subtle tremble and sign of movement as she leaned over it. Her astral gave a pull, firmed and harder this time, and then turned into a full blown yank. The pebble lifted sharply, flipping into the air as the weak astral hold trembled and failed at maintaining its hold. With a patter it returned to the floor, rolling and turning. Fallon’s shoulders slumped, “Like that Mist- Aleric?”
Thank you and see you next time!
