13th Spring 522 AV – T&T Apartments
It had been two days since he had jumped up from that couch he was now sat upon, startled and in pain, suddenly covered with cuts and a wet rag next to him to wipe himself down with. His shirt had been off too, and his first guess had been that someone had drugged him, had their way with him – a rarity indeed these days – and then left without leaving a trace of memory in his head. That had proven to be an optimistic assessment in terms of simplicity, instead seeing a letter in his won had, revealing the name of Tazrae and what the days had brought him. He had read it a dozen time, then the one she had left for him with the song, then his journals and the rest of his letters. He was left with no other conclusions to be made than the truth was in the parchment’s ink…but still he had all but fallen over with the shock.
Now, however, he was more clam and collected, ready to try to take the first true steps on hi pathway of Reimancy. Looking around the apartment he wondered whether there was a way to remember, to retrieve the jagged piece of broken memory and stick them back together again. He hadn’t thought about it, though he supposed by the letter’s content it had only been a few days or so, but the apartments were definitely not solely his. There were little touches, here and there, lie the way the kitchen was put together and the books on their shelf in order and properly stored. The snake, that had not been a shock as he did enjoy Twilight’s presence, but he had wondered when he had picked up such a creature when he hadn’t the foggiest idea about them.
But also, more than that, things more subtle. The scent, however faint, of a decidedly feminine person upon the sheets. Pieces of knotted rope he had no memory of, and random scraps of lyrics written in a hand that was more delicate and flowing than his own angular script. As he had trailed the apartments he had seen more things that told him there was a missing piece of him somewhere, and the more he probed the hole of memories within, the more there was this sense of sorrow but with no source that he could discern, as if deep down part of him were mourning and remembered…something. Shaking his head and pinching his brow he focused himself and brought himself back to the present, pushing himself up from the couch and heading to the second floor, his customary spot for practising his magic.
Casting his gaze about he wondered what was best to start with, he knew that Reimancy was not the same as other personal magics he had learned. It was as much an external force as internal and he had only his experience with Shielding to guide him in that balance, yet somehow he felt Reimancy would be different. He scratched his chin and raking his fingers back through his hair, foot tapping idly as he became lost in thought. There was no use trying to do too much too soon, he didn’t even know what kind of control he had with the new Res that was his own. Perhaps that was where he should star then? To see what control he did have, how far it reached and what he could do going forwards to improve it?
“I suppose you have to start somewhere,” he muttered to himself as he shook out his still pained hands and took a deep breath or two, “here goes nothing I guess”
He connected with his ‘well’ inside, something that was normal by now and thought it was routine there was still a slight pause of hesitation as he could sense the change – the waters in the mountain lake no longer water but a luminous silver pool, viscous and quietly moving of its own accord, rippling with a semi-sentience that took him aback for a few moments before he tentatively reached out and felt it all but try to flood him. He found himself fighting for control, trying to turn down the tap that was his link to it, feeling its desire to be used much more strongly than his other magics that used Djed, its force more primal and driven by something deep seated within.
It took several chimes of fighting it before he managed to get the link right and his mantel defences in place, though he could feel the Res pushing at them, probing and letting its intent be known – it wanted to be used. He took a deep breath and then let what little he had in mind flood him and it surged through him, tearing around and eventually coming to ooze out of his left palm, slowly and with difficulty, but still it came until there was a small pool of silvery Res there, shining in the light coming through the shutters.
It had been two days since he had jumped up from that couch he was now sat upon, startled and in pain, suddenly covered with cuts and a wet rag next to him to wipe himself down with. His shirt had been off too, and his first guess had been that someone had drugged him, had their way with him – a rarity indeed these days – and then left without leaving a trace of memory in his head. That had proven to be an optimistic assessment in terms of simplicity, instead seeing a letter in his won had, revealing the name of Tazrae and what the days had brought him. He had read it a dozen time, then the one she had left for him with the song, then his journals and the rest of his letters. He was left with no other conclusions to be made than the truth was in the parchment’s ink…but still he had all but fallen over with the shock.
Now, however, he was more clam and collected, ready to try to take the first true steps on hi pathway of Reimancy. Looking around the apartment he wondered whether there was a way to remember, to retrieve the jagged piece of broken memory and stick them back together again. He hadn’t thought about it, though he supposed by the letter’s content it had only been a few days or so, but the apartments were definitely not solely his. There were little touches, here and there, lie the way the kitchen was put together and the books on their shelf in order and properly stored. The snake, that had not been a shock as he did enjoy Twilight’s presence, but he had wondered when he had picked up such a creature when he hadn’t the foggiest idea about them.
But also, more than that, things more subtle. The scent, however faint, of a decidedly feminine person upon the sheets. Pieces of knotted rope he had no memory of, and random scraps of lyrics written in a hand that was more delicate and flowing than his own angular script. As he had trailed the apartments he had seen more things that told him there was a missing piece of him somewhere, and the more he probed the hole of memories within, the more there was this sense of sorrow but with no source that he could discern, as if deep down part of him were mourning and remembered…something. Shaking his head and pinching his brow he focused himself and brought himself back to the present, pushing himself up from the couch and heading to the second floor, his customary spot for practising his magic.
Casting his gaze about he wondered what was best to start with, he knew that Reimancy was not the same as other personal magics he had learned. It was as much an external force as internal and he had only his experience with Shielding to guide him in that balance, yet somehow he felt Reimancy would be different. He scratched his chin and raking his fingers back through his hair, foot tapping idly as he became lost in thought. There was no use trying to do too much too soon, he didn’t even know what kind of control he had with the new Res that was his own. Perhaps that was where he should star then? To see what control he did have, how far it reached and what he could do going forwards to improve it?
“I suppose you have to start somewhere,” he muttered to himself as he shook out his still pained hands and took a deep breath or two, “here goes nothing I guess”
He connected with his ‘well’ inside, something that was normal by now and thought it was routine there was still a slight pause of hesitation as he could sense the change – the waters in the mountain lake no longer water but a luminous silver pool, viscous and quietly moving of its own accord, rippling with a semi-sentience that took him aback for a few moments before he tentatively reached out and felt it all but try to flood him. He found himself fighting for control, trying to turn down the tap that was his link to it, feeling its desire to be used much more strongly than his other magics that used Djed, its force more primal and driven by something deep seated within.
It took several chimes of fighting it before he managed to get the link right and his mantel defences in place, though he could feel the Res pushing at them, probing and letting its intent be known – it wanted to be used. He took a deep breath and then let what little he had in mind flood him and it surged through him, tearing around and eventually coming to ooze out of his left palm, slowly and with difficulty, but still it came until there was a small pool of silvery Res there, shining in the light coming through the shutters.
