Solo Getting Together(Self)

[Draven McNiel]

1st day of Fall, 520AV

He had been here for a while, it was something that Draven pondered as he sat upon the wooden box below him. Doing errands, that seemed to be his way of life now; to the point, he was beginning to worry. He had spent the last year waiting on Kiether’s go-ahead, and doing errands for the man, for free. His savings weren’t going to last forever, and a part of Draven was beginning to wonder if the man had just been playing on his heartstrings, to get some cheap...No, free labour.

He slapped his cheeks, in a shoddy attempt to snap himself out of it. It was all about acting it, then going through with it. He had to simply pretend, envision the person he wanted himself to be, and then do it. It was his mode of being, it was the singular act that he could perform at this point, but it was his first mask. ”Alright! Now then, what needs handling again?” He pondered as he stood up properly, looking down on the box on which he was sitting on.

What was the problem? Draven just couldn’t see it, he had been running around in circles and wondering just how he could make things better for himself, but nothing came to mind. He had to have a meeting with his mother’s mother, that was one thing. But did he have to sit around chasing Kiether’s work? No, he did not. The man was kind, but that was all he was. ”You’re a McNiel damn it, get it together and get yourself out of this shyke.” He said to himself, slapping his cheeks.

”What can I do?” He muttered to himself, taking his mind away from the fact he had stood still for so long. When did he become this kind of man? He had big dreams during his boyhood, even if he did not feel it. What had caused this issue? Was it him? Or was it everything else? He just couldn’t tell anymore. ”I need to get better.” He muttered to himself.

But how? What did that mean? Just how could he get better? Draven wondered about it for some time. He moved from the box to his bed, resting his head on the pillow. He had stayed here for a while, he had forced himself to adjust to this new way of life. Work came hard, no-one needed a Mercenary when there was already a well trusted company here. The only reason he had continued to stick around was because...Because his family.

Then there was this pounding in his head, his magic yearned to be released. Draven knew that much, he hadn’t the room to stretch it, to move around, and to cast his spells. This was a larger place than Syliras, but his time had gotten eaten up. He looked at his palms, hardened through years of work, and felt his beard, longer and messier than it usually had been.

Credit for boxcode goes to Karin

[Draven McNiel]

1st day of Fall, 520AV

His growth had been stunted, it was something he genuinely believed for a long time. But he also had a wish to improve, surpass his father, and do the things his old man couldn’t. He had made that promise to the man on the night he died. So why was he hesitating? Clinging onto things that had little bearing? Time had been wasted, but that didn’t mean he could waste the future too. Draven had no interest in a pointless future, in fact it terrified him. He didn’t want to waste away here, not having achieved any of the things he’d promised to do.

”Into the depths.” He started, sitting up and his legs off his bed now, he was sitting there, his palms facing together. He didn’t have the luxury of lazing about anymore, he felt the flow of djed around his body, it was his breath, it was his blood, it was the thing making up his bones and muscles, it was him. Draven and Djed as one, even if he wasn't sure if that was true, it was certainly what it felt like. This was different to using a sword, if a sword was a limb, then drawing forth res was like struggling to breath.

What kind of person struggled to breath when they were just with themselves? He concentrated on that feeling, the pull of this strange substance that struggled to ooze out of his palms. A liquid, droplets formed on his palm and then began to gather in the middle being pulled together by his ever flimsy will. He concentrated, and stared at this red gel, it was him, his father’s color had been green, but his own was Red. Only one of the differences between them, even as a grown man he couldn’t help but compare himself to that person.

But that wasn't important right now, he was, his Res was. He stopped paying attention to his surroundings, the stepping sounds of those walking above him, the sound of a bed creaking in the next room, that of doors closing, and others opening, floorboards giving way. Those things were thrown from his mind.

His world consisted of him and this ball in between his palms, a passing thought was all that would be allowed to enter before it left his mind. That was the idea, the goal. But reality was often crueler, his discipline wasn't at that level, the level at which the world couldn’t discarded just by calming one’s breathing.

But he manipulated this ball of Res, turning it in circles, floating it above his palm, and then outwards. He didn’t transmute it, simply keeping it tight until it reached the point at which it would go no longer. An arm’s reach, but that couldn’t be the only limitation that he had. ”Not yet.” He muttered to himself. Gesturing, incantations, those things worked, they were great.

But they weren’t him, him and Res had to be one...Wait? One? That didn’t make sense at all, and just as he thought that his concentration slipped as the ball almost fell before he mentally picked it up again, packing it together tightly and drawing it closer to him. ”That’s not how I was taught?” His tone which started assured fell into uncertainty, he remembered his lesson but that wasn't right. Why did he slip into his mindset now, when that hadn’t been true of him before?

Credit for boxcode goes to Karin

[Draven McNiel]

1st day of Fall, 520AV

He took in a deep breath. What did he learn? What was the point of Magic? It was something to be used for the sake of others, he could recall those words well.

‘Listen Draven, you have to seperate yourself from your Magic. Keep your head in it, but your heart out. A wizard who gets too close, is doomed to fall into selfishness.’

Those words seemed so simple, but was that the right approach? It didn’t feel right, looking at it as if it was a part of himself felt better to him, his heart was in it. But did that mean he had to be selfish with it? Not at all, and as if it agreed, his Res bubbled, the gel was beginning to foam, as if it was ready to be used, impatient at being kept at arms length, so Draven let it in, and as he let it in, he let it go.

Letting it drift further from him, it reached an arm’s length away andd kept going, the connection he had it with it felt stronger, thicker, bonded. Then it touched the wall, a few meters away from him but it was still in a place in which it could still be called a part of him. There was the connection he hadn’t noticed properly before. He had willed it before, but he had never gotten the feedback as he had gotten now. It was a two way street, he sent his movements to it, and it gave him something back.

It was in the back of his mind, but now he brought it to the forefront, it was as if a line was being pulled taut and he could feel the tugging from his mind, the movement of his hand to direct the ball of Res was simply an aid in concentrating. He moved it up, down and then pulled it back towards him, stopping it before it got too close. He could feel it now, this was well and truly a part of him, and there was a part of him that did not wish to see it leave, to transmute it.

”That’s not enough.” No it was not, simple transmutation was one thing, but that wasn't where he wanted to stand now. Fire was perfect for him, that was what he had told himself back then.

Credit for boxcode goes to Karin

[Draven McNiel]

1st day of Fall, 520AV

It wasn't true now, not anymore. Fire was chaotic, wild, and out of control. To the lonely youth it had been a light and a source of warmth in the times he lacked it. He still enjoyed it, but he didn’t have that level of energy anymore. He was in his prime, instead of racing ahead in life, it was taking it slow and steady...Yeah, that sounded right. His father had used a second element, wind. But Draven was looking to surpass that man, it was his life’s mission.

He felt his connection with the ball of Res, it floated and spun in between his palms, calm now. Draven had to calm himself even more however, if fire was wild, he needed to be dame, if it was chaotic, then he needed to be order itself. It had to by cold, and it had to be dry, it couldn’t be allowed to drift from that goal, that image. He pushed it towards cold, slow moving, dark, it had to be the opposite of fire, but it also had to be the opposite of air...Something he could feel.

Hard, that was what it needed to be. He condensed the res, until it went from gel to...something else, but that something else wasn't enough either. Even though it was almost solid, it wasn't being transmuted. He needed to remember the feel, what did...Earth, earth what did it feel like? The ground beneath his feet as he walked, the great mountains that surrounded this place, and the tiniest of ant-hills, the sand on the beaches. All of that, what did it feel like?

His Res was red, fire was a myriad of colors, they were all warm, red, orange, yellow and sometimes when pure it was the coldest of blue; something Draven hadn’t been able to do himself.

His Res was red, and he continued to look at it, will it to change using a different image. Earth was brown, it was murky, dark, but it could be light, from yellow all the way to white. Some stones were smooth, some were jagged, some were sharp. All were hard, harder than anything else, that was the kind of image he formed in his head. It wasn't a matter of effort, even as he calmed his breathing, the Res in his hand continued to spin, to turn, not stay still. His fire needed that motion.

But maybe earth did not.

Credit for boxcode goes to Karin

[Draven McNiel]

1st day of Fall, 520AV

A beating in his head, it was something he felt every time he used Reimancy, it wasn't painful, it almost never was. A rapid rhythym like a plethora of small drums being beat by an army of small hands, waving away. But that seemed to be change now, as he willed the Res in his hands to stop spinning, as he envisioned the slowness of earth, he felt that beating in his head slowing down for the first time.

It was there, he could feel it in his head. That was the high energy of fire, this fast set of beats, but what did the beat of earth sound like? He thought about it, collecting together the image of earth he’d painted in his head. The texture, the feel, the sound, the smell, and most importantly, the fear. Fire was born of his aversion to darkness, a lack of warmth, he remembered that vividly, wanting a method to light his way.

But he was no longer a child, and fears weren’t something to run from. He was terrified of staying still, of stunting himself. But that fear itself was fuel, fuel to be used in this. To not let himself be taken, instead he’d use that to push himself forward. Earth wasn't stationary, and neither was he, it was just slow. If it beat, it would be just as slow, he felt it in his head as the thudding slowed and then finally stopped.

Even if he couldn’t hear it, Draven knew; it was still there. In the back of his head he understood it was simply building up, the Res in his hands was no longer spinning, moving or shifting, and in that moment he understood it; just how to get this to change to Earth. Slow, it was slow, that was what Earth was. It didn’t have the energy of fire, nor the warmth.

It didn’t reach its destination in a single swoop, nor did it run out of control, it simply took its time. Step by step, overcoming odds, and rising taller. Slow and steady, just as he needed to go now. Draven saw himself in his Res, and through that he also figured out his own path forward. The heartbeat of Earth wasn't gone, it didn’t disappear, it simply took its time. The drum would be heard again soon, not in the time that anyone was watching, but at one moment when no-one would expect it, when everyone has moved on with their lives, grew old, and watched their own kids have kids, it beat again. It moved gradually with the beat of time, not trying to rush ahead like the other elements.

Earth was slow, but it was also assured, the transformation of his Res had to be the same.

Credit for boxcode goes to Karin

[Draven McNiel]

1st day of Fall, 520AV

The image had been loaded in his head, and now it was simply getting it to act onto the Res in his hands. He had envisioned himself in the form of Earth, his lifestyle in the form of earth and now Res too in the form of Earth. He had the mental image formed now, but the true test was getting the formation to as well. He imagined how his Res felt, the current amount of Res. The gel itself, cool, but gelatinous and malleable beyond belief.

Earth could be that, but he wanted a rock. It had to be hard, smooth, and just a little bit of shine. The edges thin and almost sharp, not enough to cut his hands on, but enough so that he wouldn’t wish to grip it. Brown, it had to be brown, and even if it was smooth, the surface had to be cracked. The images and sensations had to travel through to the Res, and he willed it as he imagined it, and soon enough he began to feel those changes occur before he could see them.

The Res which had been waiting patiently this entire time began to change, to take on the nature of what it had been asked to do. He wasn't comfortable enough to order it, he had to bargain with it, he didn’t understand Earth as well, but he understood himself exceptionally so, and this Res was of him.

The first patch of brown was what he saw, not what he had envisioned, but he saw it, dark as anything, but without a doubt brown. The surface cracked over as it transformed, miniature valleys and mountains across its surface, far from smooth, but it existed. It was solid, heavier than fire, the weight on his mind was greater, but more comforting.

It began to move slowly, above his palm as the entire surface was changed and then he changed the inside too; becoming more and then it fell. A pebble in his hands, it was a small rock, but it was a rock nontheless.

”There’s more than one way of using magic, old man.” To no-one in particular, he said the words that he himself needed to hear, Draven had created earth, and while his head thudded, he stared at the ground wondering where else this could go. He wasn't stuck in one place, he was moving step by step. He had to remain patient, remain calm, and stay true to himself.

”I’ll leave on the 60th.” He didn’t want to have to leave, but Kiether and him had made an agreement.

Credit for boxcode goes to Karin

[Alric Lysane]

Dravin McNiel Please update your CS and PM me for your grade should you return.