Blessed are Those... (Aoren, Please)

Aoren and Thomas talk religion

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Built into the cliffs overlooking the Suvan Sea, Riverfall resides on the edge of grasslands of Cyphrus where the Bluevein River plunges off the plain and cascades down to the inland sea below. Home of the Akalak, Riverfall is a self-supporting city populated by devoted warriors. [Riverfall Codex]

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Blessed are Those... (Aoren, Please)

Postby Thomas Cosa on May 21st, 2015, 6:49 pm

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56th of Spring, 512 AV

There was a rock.

And there was Thomas -- a good distance away from said rock. He was breathing, eyes closed, sitting cross-legged on the white sand beach. He was remembering to breath, loudly taking in air through his nose, and holding it as he counted backwards. Meditiation wasn't something he bothered much time with, but he was discovering his magic always came a little quicker if he focused himself before casting.

The rock he remembered was black. It wasn't very large enough to be called a boulder, he decided, but large enough for him to not bother trying to lift it.

He released a held breathe. His shoulders laxed into the exhale, his head falling forward slowly. Thomas knew the key was to focus, but a constant background of thoughts, questions, worries, everything seemed to pollute his concentration, his focus. Personal magic wasn't like world magic, he wasn't pulling anything from around him -- his only source of power was himself.

Thomas breathed in, his stomach tigtening his posture, his neck straightening his head. He held the breath, keeping it locked within, the slight build up burning at his chest. He would wait until the feeling blurred past discomfort into pain, and then count back from 5.

And then he would release again.

He was vaguely aware of the space between the rock and himself. He wondered if his spell could tell him the difference -- could he use auristics to gauge space? Thomas pulled inward, a warmth sparking inside him, above his stomach, as he cast. The spell boiled and churned, washing through himas he feed the magic towards his hands, a slow wave of sense burning through him as he sent it forward.

Thomas picked up imprints of sand, a hint of rythym as his spell wove over something a live - the hard shell of a crab, the quick legs of a sand skipper - but there was a much more obvious absence as he sent his spell crawling towards the rock. It was warm, the air probably, he thought, a distinct wetness. He was suprised at how much effot it was, forcing his spell forward - he wasn't reading anything, not really, he was delving into the aura's he skimmed over. It was taxing, however, he decided , considering perhaps how very real the space between him and the rock was becoming. He couldn't see it, his eyes were closed, but as his spell finally reached the rock, he was keenly aware of what was between them, and what wasn't. He could imagine the distance perfectly in his mind, and could probably guess the exact distance in arm's lengths.

"Interesting," He mumbled, allowing his magic to lick over the rock, feeling for every fault and crack and imperfection.

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Thomas Cosa
What if no one could stop you?

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Thomas Cosa
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