Solo Awareness of the Human Form

[Venser Rush]

15th of Winter, 513AV Preparations were complete. Venser had ensured that his brother was not in the house for the day, the young Flux mage shifting the arrangement of the place to his own design. The room nearest to the entrance in particular had been modified, so that it was completely emptied with the exception of a single mirror, which was placed in the direct center, then length of which was enough so that the man could see his entire body with the exception of his feet which were obscured by the frame. Three smaller mirrors, square in shape, were ridden of their frames and placed around him in the shape of a triangle. He was also bare-chested, his shirt left in the other room in preparation for the exercise he was about to perform. The young man would sit down before the mirror, keeping his posture straight as he examined himself in the mirror. It was, of course, a face he was familiar with. He had seen this face every day for the past twenty and three years, as Verin's. The boy could reflect upon the differences in the features, but such trivial thinking had absolutely nothing to do with what he was reflecting on. To know one's face was normal, to look in the mirror was the business of every sentient creature dominated by vanity and ruled by the significance of one's personal appearance. "The reason I look in the mirror is of a far more celestial nature." The boy's brought an expression of pride upon his features before crystalline orbs focused not upon his face, but upon his body. He began his examination at the neck, which was neither thick nor thin, perfectly proportioned to his strong jaw. Directly in the center of his neck, his adam's apple protruded from his flesh, moving as a deep breath was taken, his lungs expanding and therefore shifting his entire body with it. With thoughts shifting to the state of his lungs, his eyes lowered to his chest, noting the presence of several worn scars upon his flesh, the marks of his past, when a brutalizing father lorded over him with the wrath befitting those cursed by the Gods. He could imagine the skin being peeled back to reveal the musculature underneath, fibers layered over one another, layered upon his chest plate, circling to his back and shoulders. His ribcage was focused upon next, twelve pairs of bone protecting his lungs and heart from what could destroy them, the material likely much like the bones he had peeled from the corpses of animals in order to further his other craft of Malediction. How he wished that he had material to worth with. He had hit a standstill with the art of Malediction, finding that the material he could find, discarded and rotting, lacked the strength and fresh quality of that of freshly killed game. He wished, even beyond the desire for fresh resource, for that of a human body. The only time he had seen a corpse was the night of his father's death, the sight grisly and appalling, yet... highly intriguing. It had been the moment more than anything, the suddenness of the evocation of Flux magic, the self-preservation of the event that had damaged him when he was younger. The damage had in turn, freed him. One must be destroyed before they can arise from the dust and become powerful.

[Venser Rush]

Venser's thoughts would return from the craft of Malediction to the present, his gaze moving along the surface of the mirror and to his arms. From the distance, his skin would seem flawless here, the scars invisible for they were lighter than the others, deeper yet because their healing had been aided, less severe and ugly to the beholder. His gaze would slip from the mirror as he looked upon his arms properly, raising his left, dominant arm and looking at it from a closer vantage point. "The unlocking of one's potential, fittingly so, must bear its weight upon the body in equal proportion as upon the mind..." The numerous, short jagged scars that extended along the length of his left forearm were deep, painful reminders of his potential. They were also his warning of how truly damaging the craft of the Flux could be. Though, it suited him. To live was to walk the dagger's edge, or to perish a helpless, pitiful fool. Each individual scar had its own memory of agony as a shards of bone had been pulled out of his flesh. The young man shook his head, pushing the memories aside, banishing them deep into his mind as he stared at his arm, Venser clenching his fist, watching as the muscles in his forearm stressed, Venser watching as the flesh at the base of his forearm, near the joints of his wrist, twanged, his vein visible, throbbing against his flesh as oxygenated blood carried fuel to his musculature. He would repeat the process three more times before lowering his arm. It was then that Venser would close his eyes, his fingers moving to grip his knees as he took a deep breath. Djed. He could imagine the essence in his very soul, the coalescence of what was Venser Rush held within the spirit, malleable in the various disciplines of magic. But it was the one that had freed him from his confines that had called to him. The magic that had allowed the brute strength necessary to destroy his oppressor was what called to him as strongly as the world magic that had taught him that even that which was considered waste had a use that could be considered grand beyond all imagination. "From the immortal spirit this power flees, and unto the body it shall be received." The power flowed freely from his soul, Venser limiting it, practicing the mere directing of the energy, feeling as it filled his arm. Standing up from the floor, he would move towards a table, where a small, metal cup would be visible. He would lift it with his right hand, carrying it there as he returned to his place in front of the mirror. It was after he sat down that he transferred the cup into his free hand, calmly holding it before him. The cup was thin, poorly made in order to suit the needs of a family that had lacked in income. Venser and his brother had not yet bothered to purchase new dishware, and perhaps after this, they would have an excuse to. He clenched his fist around the cup, the djed spread through the entirety of the limb, some of it unused as he the muscles of his forearm compressed, tensing as the resistance of the metal worked against him. He'd close his eyes as he stressed his arm further, the muscles burning in protest as slowly, Venser could feel the inferior metal depress inward. Slowly, he would begin to crush the metal in his hand, the joints in his fingers popping as pressure was applied in spades. Venser would not yet feel the pain of it, elated as the material, which was, while thin, still too dense for him to crush on his own, was bowing to him. The young man would begin to laugh, throwing the cup aside. The force applied to the throat was magnified, the cup lodging itself into the wood of the house as Venser dropped to the floor, grinning. "Hahaha! Excellent, excellent!" It was then that his arm would begin to seize up slightly, pain searing through it, but he disregarded it, laughing all the while.

[Venser Rush]

When the pain finally subsided, Venser took the opportunity to observe how he had felt during the course of his meditation and practical application. To know how the blood moved through his body, to learn of it and then witness it with his own eyes was an experience akin to self-realization. He was coming to know his body in a way, his ultimate ambition being that he could become familiar to the fullest extent, so that he could know his heart rate at any given time, become familiar with the quantity of air he could inhale without over-stressing his lungs, he wished to become intimately knowledgeable of the exact strength of his limbs, in comparison to one another, and in relation to the rest of his body. To know one's body, to have it become a weapon that, in co-relation with his daggers, would become a force of reckoning, for Venser was to never become a victim again. He could not stand for it. He would not. Rage pooled in Venser's mind as he thought about his father, the oppressor, the memory that continued to gnaw at him even now, more than five years after his death. The victimizing, the condemnation and more than anything, the sheer emasculation that his father enacted upon him was the worst of it, Venser having lost his identity, dehumanized and destroyed. "Never again will I become a victim... Never again will I be helpless..." he muttered, referring to his father, referring to the drowning experience he had suffered. His potential was limitless, directly tied to his own effort as a magus. He would end the hold of his past over him. Again, he would grin as he envisioned his future, free from his burdens, living a successful life as... it mattered little. He had no preference as to how his path would end, so long as he was free from the chains that bound him.

[Abstract]

Grade Awarded!

Venser

Skills

~ Observation - 3
~ Philosophy - 2
~ Flux - 1

Lores

~ Flux: Thrilling
~ Flux: Painful
~ The Satisfaction of Being Strong

Other

N/A

Notes

Just as nice as the last one! You got a point in flux for crushing the cup, and your descriptions were very detailed.

A comment, however... you were in past tense for most of the writing, except you often said "he would", switching suddenly to future tense and back. Just leave out the 'would' and stick to one tense