c
Her throat was raw from silence. Every time she opened her eyes, they burned terribly. Even her muscles felt like they were made of gelatin, ready to fall apart. Celeste was being pushed to her breaking point; she’d had all of a moments rest within the last few days. Ever since she’d discovered the secret of the Pit, there was no longer a reason for her to leave, save eating, which had not exactly been regular from the start.
And despite all this, she couldn’t help but worry for Riyanna. Thanks to the loyalty of Tierra and Brom, the Warden was left to guard the Testing Grounds all on her own. Was she okay, out there by herself? If she called for help, would they hear it?
’She’s a master,’ her mind said. ’She’ll be fine.’
Yet there was the irrational worry, in spite of everything. It ate away at her, not knowing where Riyanna was. There was something that held them together, even in spite of all the contention. And at times, only that strange anxiety had the power to keep her conscious. Thoughts of Riyanna, of her smiling face would startle her awake, just as the Pit was ready to wreak havoc.
So as time passed, she’d taken to training in another fashion. Each time the Pit would come calling, she’d answer by morphing a point of bone from her wrist, like a hidden dagger. It left her numb and weary, especially when she’d hold the shape, waiting for the place to come help her retract it, but that was okay. It was helping fashion a partial model dealing with fast-action defense. If she had to stab someone quickly, this would enable her to, without hesitation. It was sad as well, knowing whom she had in mind as she practiced.
As the sharp, triangular point forced up from her skin, she shuddered. The feeling was very close to pain. But the associated djed was limber, far more easily stretched. She decided to alternate wrists and to coordinate two at a time, just for practice’s sake.
It kept her mind occupied, which was something she desperately needed.
Sometimes, she’d look up to find Tierra staring down at her. She too, seemed exhausted. The whole ordeal was burning out the lot of them. Celeste felt guilty for keeping them there, but she knew they wouldn’t be able to stand it. The apprehension would be too great if they tried to stay away.
In silence she vowed to one day, care for them as they had cared for her.
In the meantime, she sat, forcing her djed outward and inward, again and again. It was very tedious. Sometimes, she’d alternate between morphing her hair to bone and back again, like Riyanna had in her fury. Still, she wasn’t fond of the short, spiked look. Even the energy looked ugly and coarse, too dense in all the wrong places, quite unlike the fine, flowing strands associated with her own hair.
She missed Riyanna. She missed the dry, dusty air of the Prairie. The only hope she had was to press on, lest she risk losing those scents and sounds she now held so dear. But in the tepid darkness, she grew tired, aching, her very spirit sore. The young initiate could only maintain for so long, without struggling to keep hold of her sanity.
c
18th Day of Winter, 513 AV
Her throat was raw from silence. Every time she opened her eyes, they burned terribly. Even her muscles felt like they were made of gelatin, ready to fall apart. Celeste was being pushed to her breaking point; she’d had all of a moments rest within the last few days. Ever since she’d discovered the secret of the Pit, there was no longer a reason for her to leave, save eating, which had not exactly been regular from the start.
And despite all this, she couldn’t help but worry for Riyanna. Thanks to the loyalty of Tierra and Brom, the Warden was left to guard the Testing Grounds all on her own. Was she okay, out there by herself? If she called for help, would they hear it?
’She’s a master,’ her mind said. ’She’ll be fine.’
Yet there was the irrational worry, in spite of everything. It ate away at her, not knowing where Riyanna was. There was something that held them together, even in spite of all the contention. And at times, only that strange anxiety had the power to keep her conscious. Thoughts of Riyanna, of her smiling face would startle her awake, just as the Pit was ready to wreak havoc.
So as time passed, she’d taken to training in another fashion. Each time the Pit would come calling, she’d answer by morphing a point of bone from her wrist, like a hidden dagger. It left her numb and weary, especially when she’d hold the shape, waiting for the place to come help her retract it, but that was okay. It was helping fashion a partial model dealing with fast-action defense. If she had to stab someone quickly, this would enable her to, without hesitation. It was sad as well, knowing whom she had in mind as she practiced.
As the sharp, triangular point forced up from her skin, she shuddered. The feeling was very close to pain. But the associated djed was limber, far more easily stretched. She decided to alternate wrists and to coordinate two at a time, just for practice’s sake.
It kept her mind occupied, which was something she desperately needed.
Sometimes, she’d look up to find Tierra staring down at her. She too, seemed exhausted. The whole ordeal was burning out the lot of them. Celeste felt guilty for keeping them there, but she knew they wouldn’t be able to stand it. The apprehension would be too great if they tried to stay away.
In silence she vowed to one day, care for them as they had cared for her.
In the meantime, she sat, forcing her djed outward and inward, again and again. It was very tedious. Sometimes, she’d alternate between morphing her hair to bone and back again, like Riyanna had in her fury. Still, she wasn’t fond of the short, spiked look. Even the energy looked ugly and coarse, too dense in all the wrong places, quite unlike the fine, flowing strands associated with her own hair.
She missed Riyanna. She missed the dry, dusty air of the Prairie. The only hope she had was to press on, lest she risk losing those scents and sounds she now held so dear. But in the tepid darkness, she grew tired, aching, her very spirit sore. The young initiate could only maintain for so long, without struggling to keep hold of her sanity.
c
