Flashback Power of the Mind (Solo)

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Center of scholarly knowledge and shipwrighting, Zeltiva is a port city unlike any other in Mizahar. [Lore]

Power of the Mind (Solo)

Postby Ignotus Everto on May 25th, 2015, 10:12 pm

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80th of Winter, 454AV


Igon lit a candle as he stared down the stairs leading into the university cellar. The steps were coated in a fine layer of dust, and even from the top Igon could smell mildew, but here he wouldn't be interrupted. His family would worry, but they would make noise and distract him if he attempted this at home. He wasn't entirely sure what "this" was; he simply knew that he had to make the endeavor. The boy picked up his copy of the Treval Codex on the floor and shut the door behind him as he descended into the cellar, small clouds of dust billowing with every step into the darkness.

The cellar proper was a graveyard of ruined books that stank of binding and rotting parchment, discarded to disintigrate. With a small effort, Igon cleared a space for himself, sat down cross-legged, and flipped the Codex open. Scanning its pages, a passage stood out to the teenager. "Believe the lie if you wish to enjoy it. Believe it not if you wish to command it." Igon repeated this to himself, his voice echoing in the empty space. Curious... What was the lie? Igon spoke the phrase again. Was the lie the world around him? Igon spoke the phrase again. Was it his senses? Igon spoke the phrase again. How did he stop believing his senses? Igon spoke the phrase again. How did one even command one's senses? Igon spoke the phrase again.

Chimes passed. Igon's throat was starting to burn, but he hadn't made the slightest progress. Commanding the lie was another word for magic, right? How did disbelieving his senses give him magical power? Unless he had interpreted the lie incorrectly, and needed to try a new angle.

Bells passed. The candle had melted down to a mere stub. The boy's voice had grown hoarse. His eyes watered. He rocked gently in place, trying to maintain some sense of feeling in his body. Igon had tried to make sense of the passage in some way that would let him command the lie, but they had all been in vain. He now repeated the phrase out of some unplacable stubbornness. Igon didn't know why, but ceasing to speak it felt like admitting defeat. He now merely listened to his own voice, the way it reverbreated off the stone walls and dulled against the books, the way it was starting to crack from fatigue. Next to him, the candle sputtered its last flame and went out. Igon was plunged into darkness.

A day passed. Igon's arms were littered with wax burns from his attempts to keep himself awake. His cracked lips moved, his dry tongue articulated, but he no longer heard words. It was merely an utterance, an expression of existence against the cold lifelessness of the cellar. Was he even saying the phrase anymore, or just moaning in pain? Igon didn't know how, but he was certain of the former. With some effort, he blinked, swollen eyelids pushing sweat out of his searing eyes. His echoing voice threw his exhaustion back at him, the tired croak announcing its pain to the unfeeling stone. His stomach rumbled, and his voice moaned in longing.

The second day passed. There was no cellar. Igon felt no rock beneath his legs, nor air to breathe, nor flesh for the air to brush against. There was only a consciousness clamoring in the void. Sometimes it was agonized, sometimes it was angry, sometimes it was tired. Always, it was adrift.

Time left Igon. Sound left him. Emotions pulsed regularly out into the void, and inevitably faded into oblivion. The boy saw them as if an observer, felt the pulses melt through him and stain his soul. In the dark, he could feel a heat from which the pulses were emenating. Reaching out without moving, he touched the heat and felt the vibrations as it released another pulse, this one of hope. He marveled at the uniqueness of each wave. The deep thrum of sadness. The taut tremors of anger. The long oscillation of exhaustion. The sharp judder of curiosity. Intrigued and enchanted, pulled by a force he couldn't describe, with a part of him he couldn't identify or describe, Igon plucked at the heat. The two of them shuddered together, elation surging out into the void. He plucked again. Triumph. He became aware of a depth to the heat, and chose to sink deeper. Here there was no pulsating emotion, but instead a multitude of unseeable threads. Igon touched one, felt it quiver, and sensed a change in the heat. It felt close. He plucked another, and the heat believed it succeeded. He grabbed hold of one, and felt himself cough.

Igon fell back against the hard tile of the cellar, hacking as his burning, mangled throat recoiled against the shock not speaking brought. The teenager was suddenly aware of how his joints felt like rusted iron hinges that refused to move, of how his back and spine ached, of how his stomach seemed to be curling around a pile of broken glass, and how his head throbbed incessently. As he stumbled out of the cellar and into the library, he caught sight of his mother flitting around the desks in her ratty gingham, curly blonde hair an uncombed mess, eyes wide with panic. He smiled weakly when she caught sight of him and strode towards her son, voice shaking with anger, worry, and relief. "Igon! What happened to you? Where did you get these burns?! Where have you been?"

While he heard these words, Igon also felt something familiar watching his mother. He felt heat. For a moment his eyes widened before he caught hold of himself, swallowing his elation. "No... I have to test it." Could he pluck the strings of his mother like he could the nexus in the void? Could he change her vibrations to those of calm? Concentrating, he reached out with that intangible part of himself and said. "I've been studying, mother. There's no reason to be afraid."

To his shock, Igon felt that part of himself leave him and float into his mother, quietly whispering "He's safe. That's all that matters." To his greater shock and delight, he saw his mother bite her fingers uncertainly and say "Oh... All right. But don't you frighten me like that again!"

As she grabbed him by the wrist and led him out the door, Igon had to bite his lip to stop from laughing in his euphoria.
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Last edited by Ignotus Everto on January 21st, 2016, 7:39 pm, edited 1 time in total.
A thousand thanks to Phoenix for the gorgeous blue frame, and a thousand more to Edreina for her beautiful magic-themed one!

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Ignotus Everto
Only Mostly Mad
 
Posts: 601
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Joined roleplay: May 6th, 2012, 5:57 pm
Location: Zeltiva
Race: Nuit
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Power of the Mind (Solo)

Postby Dravite on August 28th, 2015, 12:15 am

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Ignotus Everto


XP Award:

  • Observation: 1
  • Logic: 1
  • Socialisation: 1
  • Investigation: 1
  • Stealth: 1
  • Organisation: 1
  • Endurance: 1
  • Philosophy: 1
  • Hypnotism: 1


Lore:

  • Observation: The smell of damp and mould
  • Hypnotism: The power of the mind
  • Singing: Tone, echo, voice
  • Ignotus Everto: Hunger pains
  • Ignotus Everto: A haunting quote


Penalties:

Will grow up with faint scars on arms from wax burns where the hair doesn't grow as thick.

Notes: Stunning piece of work, man. Wow, I feel like I didn’t do it justice with the lore I awarded so feel free to hit me up if you want something added.

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Dravite
Ra’athi of The Watch Troha to Tavehk
 
Posts: 722
Words: 775240
Joined roleplay: April 20th, 2015, 12:38 am
Race: Human, Drykas
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Medals: 3
Overlored (1) Advocate (1)
2015 Mizahar NaNo Winner (1)


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