12th of Spring 516
Morning gave way to afternoon and so the sun began it's dip down the zenith of the sky. Yet deep in the Within, beneath the earth, only one's heartbeat and the melting of candle wax could have marked this passage. Xira perhaps should have been worried of becoming a pallid cretin, that greeting the day and performing vital exercise aught to be his duty. Instead, he was indulging in something he knew he shouldn't be doing in favor of more useful things. He was reading.
The young man sat, idly flipping through pages and skimming the contents. The common room was empty for the moment and so he had his unbooted feet on the table as he leisured. At his feet a stack of books and his own personal journal lay innocent to the courier-mage's transgressions. The one in his hand was that about auristics, an interesting find that Xira hadn't thought to look for. The year before Xira met a young man named Aoren who mentioned that it was a magic that dealt with seeing what could be unseen. Intriguing.
Book then went on to list ways to assist in focusing their senses into a way to perceive auras. Intrigued, Xira closed his eyes and drew within that core of stone within himself and pulled for a thin sliver of his soul. He focused. His sight, his hearing, he focused on the feeling of the book beneath his fingers and in his lap. He somehow... applied this bit of djed to his focus and something strange happened.
In the book auras were described in many different ways. They were unique to the user, but there was a certain commonality to the way users perceived them. Waves of color was common for instance. But for the young mage, obsessed with words and the carrying of them from one to another across distance, Xira sensed beyond his lids... characters. His mind was filled with writing that he did not understand, nor could he comprehend their shapes. The more he focused, the more he seemed to understand, but there was a paradox to it. He understood that he was sensing objects, not understanding the characters in his mind and that somehow it was as if he was reading the characteristics of the object as one would read the words off a page. If those words fought back and changed by the simple act of reading, growing more and more complex the more you endeavored to try and understand them.
A headache quickly formed and Xira realized that he was consuming djed rapidly, his fingers grew sore, as if bruised and the mageling muttered a word of dispellment, a word that helped him mentally disengage though the word was nothing more then a crutch and was as mundane as any other. He drew away from his core and he huffed. "That was... exhilarating." The desire to use more magic was stronger then usual. Moreso then when he typically used magic.
He glanced down at the book. Beneath the cover, he knew, was an image of a man upside down and hanging by his ankle. A strange image, to be sure, all the stranger to have it hidden under the binding of the book. Only an aurist could determine what was beneath. I guess that made him an aurist now.
My words
Morning gave way to afternoon and so the sun began it's dip down the zenith of the sky. Yet deep in the Within, beneath the earth, only one's heartbeat and the melting of candle wax could have marked this passage. Xira perhaps should have been worried of becoming a pallid cretin, that greeting the day and performing vital exercise aught to be his duty. Instead, he was indulging in something he knew he shouldn't be doing in favor of more useful things. He was reading.
The young man sat, idly flipping through pages and skimming the contents. The common room was empty for the moment and so he had his unbooted feet on the table as he leisured. At his feet a stack of books and his own personal journal lay innocent to the courier-mage's transgressions. The one in his hand was that about auristics, an interesting find that Xira hadn't thought to look for. The year before Xira met a young man named Aoren who mentioned that it was a magic that dealt with seeing what could be unseen. Intriguing.
The art of auristics begin with the senses, as it is an extension of them. Seasoned mages need only draw within their soul and focus to practice this most basic of skills, but for those who begin their path with Auristics it is wise to use the manner of sight.
As a way of assisting the novice, embedded in this book is an object. See if you can determine what it is.
Begin...
Book then went on to list ways to assist in focusing their senses into a way to perceive auras. Intrigued, Xira closed his eyes and drew within that core of stone within himself and pulled for a thin sliver of his soul. He focused. His sight, his hearing, he focused on the feeling of the book beneath his fingers and in his lap. He somehow... applied this bit of djed to his focus and something strange happened.
In the book auras were described in many different ways. They were unique to the user, but there was a certain commonality to the way users perceived them. Waves of color was common for instance. But for the young mage, obsessed with words and the carrying of them from one to another across distance, Xira sensed beyond his lids... characters. His mind was filled with writing that he did not understand, nor could he comprehend their shapes. The more he focused, the more he seemed to understand, but there was a paradox to it. He understood that he was sensing objects, not understanding the characters in his mind and that somehow it was as if he was reading the characteristics of the object as one would read the words off a page. If those words fought back and changed by the simple act of reading, growing more and more complex the more you endeavored to try and understand them.
A headache quickly formed and Xira realized that he was consuming djed rapidly, his fingers grew sore, as if bruised and the mageling muttered a word of dispellment, a word that helped him mentally disengage though the word was nothing more then a crutch and was as mundane as any other. He drew away from his core and he huffed. "That was... exhilarating." The desire to use more magic was stronger then usual. Moreso then when he typically used magic.
He glanced down at the book. Beneath the cover, he knew, was an image of a man upside down and hanging by his ankle. A strange image, to be sure, all the stranger to have it hidden under the binding of the book. Only an aurist could determine what was beneath. I guess that made him an aurist now.
My words
