I Am A Stone 
Ash 5th, 121 AoS
The very air he breathed reminded him of the crisp chill that hung overhead, and yet, his meditations had allowed him to explore something he had never thought possible before. He had thought to ideally pursue the concept of introversion, letting that introspection reflect on whatever this "Echo" was that he somehow became connected to. Or part of? Tiberius hardly made sense anyway when their meeting took place, regardless, the wolf's friendly trial with the man brought up more questions than it did answers. Oh, there was certainly a benefit to knowing what he did now, but the wolf wasn't too keen on the idea that fate had a particular destiny in mind.
But of course, his mind pondered away too often on the stray thoughts, most bent around these questions while others had other obvious focuses. Eventually, he came to view meditation as an exercise and practiced thinking of nothing but his own aetherial body. Or was it astral? Gods who knew at this point, he certainly didn't consider himself an expert. Regardless he quieted his mind enough to continually count each heartbeat he felt, his body reactively tingling from the aether flowing through his veins. To think of himself a whole year ago, he could hardly channel but a magical sword out of his own soul. Now he could drown enemies with water if he chose to, if not skip around with ice hurled at his foes. Not to mention how nimble kinetics made him with enough focus, and even traversion's flashy nuances helped him slowly developed a keener perception of his battlefields.
But perhaps the most crowning power he possessed was the incredible negation rune on his shoulder, having gradually developed a more personalized style with the defensive magic as well. Over time he'd realized that tasks didn't have to be downright specific, hell, he'd barely even utilize their full potentiality at the time either. He had learned that with layers, he could reinforce the interior of his barriers in critical situations, and even learned that he could ward off specific things if he merely focused on them. Learning to negate his own sense of smell against something, he'd realized their practicality and the amount of creativity they offered. He'd hoped to master it at that time, but it took him this long to actually realize that specific 'how'.
Which explained the necessity in meditation, as the wolf sat within the gardens of the Winter Palace, in his casual dark shirt and boarhide trousers. The willow tree he sat against the base of swayed softly within the breeze, the strands of leaves gently bobbing away from him when they'd fallen four inches near his head. At first, he felt the cold raise goosebumps on his exposed forearms, and when he focused on that specifically he felt the chill gradually leave the surface of his skin. He still felt the airbrush on his skin but there was no chill within it anymore, it was as if his own natural body heat became an armor against the cold. Rickter opened his eyes slightly to gaze down at himself, his aether softly glimmered across his form as his Negation rune shone brightly.
What was even more fascinating to him was that this was just the surface layer of his own aether, he had barely pushed it out from his core when he thought of the cold. Imagining if he could exert a greater amount of aether from his own body, he could essentially be his own anchor, and possibly an impenetrable fortress if he wanted to be. The wolf definitely didn't wish to stop there, his first warded layer gradually covered with another that shimmered as the northern lights. He wondered in particular, and with the task willed into the barrier, Rickter's being felt veiled in a shroud of his own aether after the result of a flash.
When his eyes opened he found nothing had changed immediately, though everything had suddenly gone silent.
But of course, his mind pondered away too often on the stray thoughts, most bent around these questions while others had other obvious focuses. Eventually, he came to view meditation as an exercise and practiced thinking of nothing but his own aetherial body. Or was it astral? Gods who knew at this point, he certainly didn't consider himself an expert. Regardless he quieted his mind enough to continually count each heartbeat he felt, his body reactively tingling from the aether flowing through his veins. To think of himself a whole year ago, he could hardly channel but a magical sword out of his own soul. Now he could drown enemies with water if he chose to, if not skip around with ice hurled at his foes. Not to mention how nimble kinetics made him with enough focus, and even traversion's flashy nuances helped him slowly developed a keener perception of his battlefields.
But perhaps the most crowning power he possessed was the incredible negation rune on his shoulder, having gradually developed a more personalized style with the defensive magic as well. Over time he'd realized that tasks didn't have to be downright specific, hell, he'd barely even utilize their full potentiality at the time either. He had learned that with layers, he could reinforce the interior of his barriers in critical situations, and even learned that he could ward off specific things if he merely focused on them. Learning to negate his own sense of smell against something, he'd realized their practicality and the amount of creativity they offered. He'd hoped to master it at that time, but it took him this long to actually realize that specific 'how'.
Which explained the necessity in meditation, as the wolf sat within the gardens of the Winter Palace, in his casual dark shirt and boarhide trousers. The willow tree he sat against the base of swayed softly within the breeze, the strands of leaves gently bobbing away from him when they'd fallen four inches near his head. At first, he felt the cold raise goosebumps on his exposed forearms, and when he focused on that specifically he felt the chill gradually leave the surface of his skin. He still felt the airbrush on his skin but there was no chill within it anymore, it was as if his own natural body heat became an armor against the cold. Rickter opened his eyes slightly to gaze down at himself, his aether softly glimmered across his form as his Negation rune shone brightly.
What was even more fascinating to him was that this was just the surface layer of his own aether, he had barely pushed it out from his core when he thought of the cold. Imagining if he could exert a greater amount of aether from his own body, he could essentially be his own anchor, and possibly an impenetrable fortress if he wanted to be. The wolf definitely didn't wish to stop there, his first warded layer gradually covered with another that shimmered as the northern lights. He wondered in particular, and with the task willed into the barrier, Rickter's being felt veiled in a shroud of his own aether after the result of a flash.
When his eyes opened he found nothing had changed immediately, though everything had suddenly gone silent.
"Common" "Synskrit" "Norvaegan"
"Rickter" "Telion" "Hannah"
"Rickter" "Telion" "Hannah"
"It's hard to say, that I'm back on a straight line,"
