What Is a Hand? (Solo, Flashback)

[Serkaan]

Serkaan 3rd of Summer 510AV The touch of the morning came with the creeping of a slight cool breeze upon Serkaan’s bare back, and woke him gently. The light glow of the sun was just beginning to show over the horizon as the boy stretched and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. Yawning he pulled his arms over his head and bent forward arching his lower back. The night had been cool and laying on hard packed dirt had made him stiff, so he moved around and worked some blood into his legs and arms. As he walked around Serkaan ran his day through his mind, what he needed to do, what order those things should be done, and how all of it would play out. There were many things that the sixteen year old boy would be expected to perform, training of the body, the mind, and the manipulation of his djed were to be practiced every day. He had only yesterday learned how to move the flesh on his body and stretch it into a new shape and form. So he still needed a great deal of practice before he would be able to morph his hands into the model that his master had explained to him. In short the boy had a lot of work to be accomplished this day, and standing around thinking about it wasn’t going to get him very far. To start off his morning Serkaan decided to take a short run and get his heart pumping and to give his mind time to wake up properly. He started off by walking for a good five chimes before he felt that his legs were loosened and ready for greater exertion. He then began to jog slowly through the woods around his master’s house. The sights and sounds of the dawn filled his senses. Birds began to chirp merrily around him, the sound of a breeze moving through the leaves over his head gently whispered to him, and the piercing rays of the morning sun sifted through the canopy of greenery above him. His bare feet could be heard with a muffled slap against the earth as he increased the speed of his jog through the wood as the growing light allowed. The smell of dirt wet from the morning dew drifted into his nostrils as exertion began to warm the boy’s body. He continued increasing his speed until he was running flat out, the shrubs ripped at his ankles seeming to actually be trying to trip him up. But he managed to avoid falling on his face, and kept his stride for about five chimes. He pushed to keep from slowing and giving into the searing pain in his sides and chest. He had been taught to separate himself from the pain he felt and to accomplish the task set before him. However one can only push so far, and then the body collapses upon itself. And exhaustion was quickly beating on Serkaan, his chest ached from the lack of oxygen and he felt as if his sides were splitting in two from the stabbing pain that he felt there. So when he finally tripped over a root, Serkaan just lay on the ground his chest heaving as he gasped for air. His body convulsing from exertion, screaming that’s he had pushed its limits long ago. He gradually began to regain a sense of normalcy and the beating of his heart lowered to level that didn’t sound like that of a racehorse. Sitting up slowly Serkaan blew out a breath of air and breathed deeply of the fresh morning air, he had done well this morning in his run and was proud of his progress. He went farther and ran longer each day, lukewarm was not something that could describe him. Obsessive would be a much better choice, when Serkaan began something he worked at until either the project was complete or he could no longer physically work on it any longer. So every single morning he ran until he fell to ground from complete exhaustion.

[Serkaan]

Serkaan Once Serkaan had fully recovered his breath from his run through the wood, he stood and stretched out his legs and walked slowly around the clearing to prevent any stiffness the next morning. He had learned long ago that if he didn’t give some sort of tension to his legs and then walk out of his run that the next day held the meaning of misery for his body. His legs would lock up and he would hardly be able to walk a mile, running one would be impossible. So the little bit of time spent in preparing his body and preserving his strength had proven to pay off and was well worth the effort. The sun was halfway to its peak when Serkaan went on to his next task of training. His master always said that pain was merely the spirit of your weak ancestors being thrown out of your being, and that as those ancestors were removed it made room for the ancestors who were great men of valor. Whether or not that was actually true Serkaan had no idea, and really didn’t care. What was proven true to him was that skin and bone could become extremely strong and tough if they were put under pressure often enough. The best and most practical way to apply this technique for Serkaan had been to practice the fighting techniques his master showed him on rocks and trees, or really anything hard and thick. So the boy walked over to a sturdy looking oak tree that he had used for the past month for this purpose and began straightaway to punch the bark with his bare knuckles. For the first chime Serkaan barely even felt the pain of punching the ruff bark of the tree, but as time progressed it quickly became extremely painful to continue. However persistence, determination, and a stubborn streak a mile wide kept him going. As he punched Serkaan let out a savage cry filled with adrenaline and anger, his master had showed him this technique of channeling your emotions into a fight. It gave a slight respite from pain, by occupying the mind on the force of your attack rather than the pain it brought back to you. However technique and persistence can only take someone so far, when his blood began to add to the blood of previous training sessions Serkaan stopped punching and began to kick. His shins screamed in agony as he beat them mercilessly against the tree, but he pushed on striking with all his power and screaming rage into the tree. He kept this pounding up for about 4 chimes, and then was forced to stop and rest his weary bones. As he rested on the ground Serkaan studied his tree. It was a tall and sturdy oak tree that dominated the western edge of the little clearing in the wood and stood apart from the other trees. There was a part of it about chest high that was smoother than the rest of the tree, it had been gradually made this way from months of daily assault. It was far from smooth, but there was a visible difference in texture. Aside from the texture difference there was also a discoloration on the smoother part of the tree, it was stained a reddish brown from Serkaan’s blood that was spilt every day on its bark. It was high noon now, and Serkaan was beginning to feel the pangs of hunger stabbing at his empty stomach. He had not eaten breakfast and his lifestyle of constant exertion required a great deal of fuel to keep him going. So the boy began to trot slowly back towards his masters home, which was about three miles distant. He did not press himself hard and took the trip at a calm pace. When he arrived at the house, his master immediately tossed him a bag of dried meat and a loaf of bread and bid him to eat and then be off to work again. So Serkaan sat on the grassy earth and quickly ate what had been given to him, and then lay on the ground for a few minutes enjoying the feeling of being full once again.

[Serkaan]

Serkaan After a few minutes of rest Serkaan started the walk back to his clearing, the place where he preferred to spend his time in training. It took him a full fifteen chimes of leisurely walking to get to his destination. But by the time he arrived his food had set in his stomach and he was ready to train again. But his next session would not be so much of physical exertion as it would a lack of mental exertion. Meditation is key to success in morphing and in keeping the mind relaxed and sane even in extreme situations. So Serkaan had taken up meditation a few weeks ago, to increase his mental capabilities and to keep him calm in his hectic lifestyle. He had found that a single session a day gave him a much more relaxed attitude towards life and increased the control he felt over his djed usage. So in preparation for this mental exercise Serkaan sat down on the grassy earth in the clearing of trees and began to alter his breathing. He would breath in for 3 seconds, hold his breath for three seconds, and then release for the same interval. This breath control made him focus completely upon breathing and cleared his mind of anything that would block his meditative trance. As he fell into this pattern of breathing he slowly drifted out of consciousness, coming in and out of awareness completely empty of any abstract thoughts. His mind was a pit of blackness, bereft of anything of meaning or value, he had removed himself from the equation and the nothingness that it left behind was stunning. Meditation brought peace and triumph over the trials of the world and many people would learn of it merely for that benefit. It provided a release almost drug like in its form and method from the pain of reality, and gave one a euphoric sense of detachment. However that was not the true purpose of meditative trance, but merely a side effect of its meaning. The true purpose and meaning of meditation lay in separation from emotion and the controlling power of conscious thought. It let your subconscious run free in the lack of consciousness. This is why many investigators would use meditation as a method to discover a clue from the recesses of their mind. The power of meditation came in a lack of control. People run around their entire lives bound by their search for control, they spend years building up a façade of this concept only to have it inevitably be crushed by the cruel whim of fate. Meditation allowed a release from the primitive concept that a person could be in control of anything. Serkaan had been out of conscious thought and in meditative trance for a full bell before he came into his mind once again. His spirit gently returning into awareness and releasing the tendrils of his mental relaxation as Serkaan opened his eyes and let out a sigh as his breathing ceased to follow the set pattern. He took a glance at the sun to ascertain the time and rose slowly to his feet as he realized that it must be midafternoon, and that he still had many things to accomplish before the night was over.