61st of Spring, 508
The wooden floor boards creaked as Vizayas took a step into the hallway of his home. He had been sneaking out more lately, emboldened by the outdoors. Life inside seemed dull, and he dreaded the reclusive feelings he felt when he didn't get out much. He tried to be careful as he walked through the hall, and conceal the noise he made. This didn't pan out well, the boards didn't care, noisy as they were. He wanted to figure out how to solve this, and he knew that he had to come up with something more ingenious. Vizayas turned around, abandoning the idea that he would simply try to walk out without causing noise. His father would certainly hear.
Vizayas sat on his bed and brought his left foot up, pulling off the shoe and setting it aside. Then, the other shoe. He curled his toes and looked at them with curiosity, an idea formulating in his head. An idea that was beginning to become a plan as the complexity of it grew. Vizayas had a feeling it wouldn't work, but trying was better than not trying at all. First of all, he figured that making his feet softer would reduce the noise he made. He'd noticed that heavy bed linens made a more dull noise, compared to the thud and tap of a shoe. It was worth a shot.
Also on his mind happened to be the idea of tasking a shield against sound. It was quite the interesting idea, and he wasn't sure how it would work. He thought it might dampen the sound but not entirely negate it since a step still applied force to the surrounding wood. He would have to shield the entire hall, and even the ceiling with the way sound seemed to travel through the walls if he truly wanted to have the best affect. However, he wasn't about to due that.
Shielding his feet against sound would at least prevent the noise of scuffing or tapping that his feet made. It wasn't a bad idea. Peeling his cotton socks off, Vizayas' feet hung exposed over the side of the bed. He stood, and let his center of balance fall downward, arching his knees as he fell to the floor with a slight thud. Then, he crossed his legs, one over the other. Closing his eyes, he began to clear his mind and focus on the noise of his surroundings.
The progress was slow at first, and his ears rang from the sudden change. As he sat there, ticks slowly turned into chimes as his ears adjusted to the silence, bringing forth a sensitivity to the sounds in the room. His mind latched on to the settling of the house, and the pounding his heart made. Internally, he visualized the djed congealing inside himself into a writhing mass in his mind, trying to give the information of the sounds he heard to the shielding djed which brewed within, not yet given substance.
Then, his jaw went slack as his mouth hung open for a brief moment. Softly, he started to sing. "The sounds I make, a yell and a whisper so varied, so many." He sang in a neutral but slightly high tone, but loudly and then quietly. Mentally, he worked the information of every note he sang into the tasking, internalizing his own voice and giving it to the djed in his mind. "I sing of a low place, and a high pla- place." Vizayas was not a good singer, and his voice was riddled with crackling and the occasional stutter as his mind struggled to formulate the words for the song he sang.
The wooden floor boards creaked as Vizayas took a step into the hallway of his home. He had been sneaking out more lately, emboldened by the outdoors. Life inside seemed dull, and he dreaded the reclusive feelings he felt when he didn't get out much. He tried to be careful as he walked through the hall, and conceal the noise he made. This didn't pan out well, the boards didn't care, noisy as they were. He wanted to figure out how to solve this, and he knew that he had to come up with something more ingenious. Vizayas turned around, abandoning the idea that he would simply try to walk out without causing noise. His father would certainly hear.
Vizayas sat on his bed and brought his left foot up, pulling off the shoe and setting it aside. Then, the other shoe. He curled his toes and looked at them with curiosity, an idea formulating in his head. An idea that was beginning to become a plan as the complexity of it grew. Vizayas had a feeling it wouldn't work, but trying was better than not trying at all. First of all, he figured that making his feet softer would reduce the noise he made. He'd noticed that heavy bed linens made a more dull noise, compared to the thud and tap of a shoe. It was worth a shot.
Also on his mind happened to be the idea of tasking a shield against sound. It was quite the interesting idea, and he wasn't sure how it would work. He thought it might dampen the sound but not entirely negate it since a step still applied force to the surrounding wood. He would have to shield the entire hall, and even the ceiling with the way sound seemed to travel through the walls if he truly wanted to have the best affect. However, he wasn't about to due that.
Shielding his feet against sound would at least prevent the noise of scuffing or tapping that his feet made. It wasn't a bad idea. Peeling his cotton socks off, Vizayas' feet hung exposed over the side of the bed. He stood, and let his center of balance fall downward, arching his knees as he fell to the floor with a slight thud. Then, he crossed his legs, one over the other. Closing his eyes, he began to clear his mind and focus on the noise of his surroundings.
The progress was slow at first, and his ears rang from the sudden change. As he sat there, ticks slowly turned into chimes as his ears adjusted to the silence, bringing forth a sensitivity to the sounds in the room. His mind latched on to the settling of the house, and the pounding his heart made. Internally, he visualized the djed congealing inside himself into a writhing mass in his mind, trying to give the information of the sounds he heard to the shielding djed which brewed within, not yet given substance.
Then, his jaw went slack as his mouth hung open for a brief moment. Softly, he started to sing. "The sounds I make, a yell and a whisper so varied, so many." He sang in a neutral but slightly high tone, but loudly and then quietly. Mentally, he worked the information of every note he sang into the tasking, internalizing his own voice and giving it to the djed in his mind. "I sing of a low place, and a high pla- place." Vizayas was not a good singer, and his voice was riddled with crackling and the occasional stutter as his mind struggled to formulate the words for the song he sang.