bleh why do threads need subjects
Feb 14, 2012 23:36:10 GMT -5
Post by Tybalt on Feb 14, 2012 23:36:10 GMT -5
Tybalt and Doom were practicing.
Generally one would say Tybalt was, but things had changed.
Tybalt had given up mastery of the magic he was trying to wield. Energy was like water, one could not grasp or direct it. Tybalt had felt useless and exhausted, quickly losing any sense of direction. One day he had become so frustrated that without thinking or requesting permission or direction he had formed a long, thin whip out of white light and cracked it; it snaked around the dummy, scalded its base, and then was deftly reigned in by Tybalt without permitting it to touch himself; it behaved, for a moment, precisely as a real whip would obeying the laws of physics and Tybalt's years of training in knowing how to use that particular weapon.
Then Tybalt realized in shock what he had done and it vanished just like that, leaving behind a blinding fuchsia and lime imprint of where it had been in his eyes.
But it worked. From that point on Tybalt had practiced shaping the energy into forms he knew. He knew this was not the sorcery Doom desired of him, for it was really only an admission of his own weakness, but this was useful and necessary for a man who was a soldier first and foremost - and perhaps only a soldier. (He was certainly no lover, as Doom had learned nearly firsthand, though that event had never been spoken of between them.)
The trouble was learning to extend his concentration, learning to make willing the magic into existence so natural that he did not need to focus on it exclusively or primarily in order to use it. Working with it as a whip was the best way for Tybalt to do this, for relying on it as though it were a whip, he forgot to strenuously focus and learned instead to make use of what he had conjured.
Thus was Doom his sparring partner, learning for himself what many of Doom's men knew already - that Tybalt was deft with a weapon and tireless, and it took much effort to keep him from gaining the upper hand.
Generally one would say Tybalt was, but things had changed.
Tybalt had given up mastery of the magic he was trying to wield. Energy was like water, one could not grasp or direct it. Tybalt had felt useless and exhausted, quickly losing any sense of direction. One day he had become so frustrated that without thinking or requesting permission or direction he had formed a long, thin whip out of white light and cracked it; it snaked around the dummy, scalded its base, and then was deftly reigned in by Tybalt without permitting it to touch himself; it behaved, for a moment, precisely as a real whip would obeying the laws of physics and Tybalt's years of training in knowing how to use that particular weapon.
Then Tybalt realized in shock what he had done and it vanished just like that, leaving behind a blinding fuchsia and lime imprint of where it had been in his eyes.
But it worked. From that point on Tybalt had practiced shaping the energy into forms he knew. He knew this was not the sorcery Doom desired of him, for it was really only an admission of his own weakness, but this was useful and necessary for a man who was a soldier first and foremost - and perhaps only a soldier. (He was certainly no lover, as Doom had learned nearly firsthand, though that event had never been spoken of between them.)
The trouble was learning to extend his concentration, learning to make willing the magic into existence so natural that he did not need to focus on it exclusively or primarily in order to use it. Working with it as a whip was the best way for Tybalt to do this, for relying on it as though it were a whip, he forgot to strenuously focus and learned instead to make use of what he had conjured.
Thus was Doom his sparring partner, learning for himself what many of Doom's men knew already - that Tybalt was deft with a weapon and tireless, and it took much effort to keep him from gaining the upper hand.