(( Author's Note: This tale depicts Private Instructor for The Practical Applications of Magicks and Eldritch Lore, Zynisch Lucis, in his morning efforts of contemplation and his summarily uncommon stay within the grounds of the Academy. As such, I encourage any and all who wish it to participate in helping him feel welcome again. ))
First Scene's Ambient Tune: "A Moment's Rest" -a la Final Fantasy XII-
Ah, Lake Eternal. It served as a bastion of peace to many a beleaguered Crios denizen's weary mind. So too did it prompt the lonely morning sojourn of one cynical light to its shores of reprieve. The heavy mantle of a bifurcated cloak hung in an airborne stasis of mystical energies as its master hid his features beneath the upright collar it sported. Perched upon winds of his own stirring did Zynisch Lucis rest, perusing his troubled thoughts for answers to a myriad of the prior eve's inquiries. Hundreds of burdening ideas and worries were subject to defragmentation and subsequent compartmentalized within his mindscape with unerring and ruthless scrutiny, save perhaps for the momentary glimpses of his beloved. Her presence therein was a sedating one that served to encourage and will his fleeting thoughts to a mental script. Nevertheless, each pondering would be relegated to a page or two within the fabric of the engorged textbook that framed his perspective. From frivolous considerations to more pressing personal concerns, naught was safe from his examination.
Suffice it to say, though, that whilst he remained in that state of indefatigable recollection and processing, he was not entirely aware of his surroundings. Why even as the surface of lake water beneath him started to ripple and the grass enveloping the area for yards wove to and fro at the beckoning of his winds did his concentration ne'er waver a mote. Rather, it was this inward withdrawal that coaxed the elements borne of his will to manifest thus. Spheres of moderate size would congeal around him into several, large effigies of basic elemental composition that tended to be constant within this realm. Passively, they would rotate at a fixed rate and dance reverently about his impeccably stationary frame. Transfixed were they by his presently unshakable resolve to introspect that the representations of magicks willingly submitted themselves to his will that they might aid him amid his reverie.
That was....until a certain incident sprang to mind. The piecemeal scenery of the docks pushed to the forefront of the academic's formerly wild musing, eschewed merely by his still-incomplete reformation of the event's details. Try as might have, he could never quite achieve the eidetic memory he both desperately desired and rightfully feared. The chilling notion of being privy to any and all thoughts one might ever had was humbling to the man, as there were numerous instances of unforgiving memories he would have thought it serendipitous to be rid of. Incidentally, the silhouetted images of himself and one other beset by the astral sea, the impending cloud cover which threatened its clarity, and the lesser maw of the churning sea depths below resonated intensely with him. The Swordmage recounted the two speaking as a faint light far removed from the shoreline banished the visible light of the moon with its jealous glow, yet he could not recall the particulars of their exchange.
With true haste did the luminescence of the unrecognizable, celestial anomaly grow heavy on his mind, blanketing all of his hard-earning mental compression beforehand. At once, the lids of the formerly fastened, azure hues Zynisch boasted parted in the fallout of his resurrection into the waking world. The spheres halted their almost sprite-like admiration for the scholar's focused trance and sunk low to the water before expunging themselves in wispy bursts of untamed lightning, incandescent flames, gelid frost, stony matter, hallowed brilliance, and eldritch shade. The otherworldly gleam of his eyes succumbed to rest, fading into the collected cerulean they were known for. He would sigh and place his hands upon the crossed legs that comprised much of his discernible posture. Instructor Lucis's head would rise to the sight of another presence that made itself known to him purely at the behest of the aggravated senses that revived at a peculiar degree of potency with the advent of his awakening. Chilly lips parted to facilitate an expression of his thoughts, no doubt profound given the nature of his ostensible meditation.
"....Did that occur on a Monday or a Tuesday?"
...Okay. Or maybe he was just that much of a dork.
First Scene's Ambient Tune: "A Moment's Rest" -a la Final Fantasy XII-
Ah, Lake Eternal. It served as a bastion of peace to many a beleaguered Crios denizen's weary mind. So too did it prompt the lonely morning sojourn of one cynical light to its shores of reprieve. The heavy mantle of a bifurcated cloak hung in an airborne stasis of mystical energies as its master hid his features beneath the upright collar it sported. Perched upon winds of his own stirring did Zynisch Lucis rest, perusing his troubled thoughts for answers to a myriad of the prior eve's inquiries. Hundreds of burdening ideas and worries were subject to defragmentation and subsequent compartmentalized within his mindscape with unerring and ruthless scrutiny, save perhaps for the momentary glimpses of his beloved. Her presence therein was a sedating one that served to encourage and will his fleeting thoughts to a mental script. Nevertheless, each pondering would be relegated to a page or two within the fabric of the engorged textbook that framed his perspective. From frivolous considerations to more pressing personal concerns, naught was safe from his examination.
Suffice it to say, though, that whilst he remained in that state of indefatigable recollection and processing, he was not entirely aware of his surroundings. Why even as the surface of lake water beneath him started to ripple and the grass enveloping the area for yards wove to and fro at the beckoning of his winds did his concentration ne'er waver a mote. Rather, it was this inward withdrawal that coaxed the elements borne of his will to manifest thus. Spheres of moderate size would congeal around him into several, large effigies of basic elemental composition that tended to be constant within this realm. Passively, they would rotate at a fixed rate and dance reverently about his impeccably stationary frame. Transfixed were they by his presently unshakable resolve to introspect that the representations of magicks willingly submitted themselves to his will that they might aid him amid his reverie.
That was....until a certain incident sprang to mind. The piecemeal scenery of the docks pushed to the forefront of the academic's formerly wild musing, eschewed merely by his still-incomplete reformation of the event's details. Try as might have, he could never quite achieve the eidetic memory he both desperately desired and rightfully feared. The chilling notion of being privy to any and all thoughts one might ever had was humbling to the man, as there were numerous instances of unforgiving memories he would have thought it serendipitous to be rid of. Incidentally, the silhouetted images of himself and one other beset by the astral sea, the impending cloud cover which threatened its clarity, and the lesser maw of the churning sea depths below resonated intensely with him. The Swordmage recounted the two speaking as a faint light far removed from the shoreline banished the visible light of the moon with its jealous glow, yet he could not recall the particulars of their exchange.
With true haste did the luminescence of the unrecognizable, celestial anomaly grow heavy on his mind, blanketing all of his hard-earning mental compression beforehand. At once, the lids of the formerly fastened, azure hues Zynisch boasted parted in the fallout of his resurrection into the waking world. The spheres halted their almost sprite-like admiration for the scholar's focused trance and sunk low to the water before expunging themselves in wispy bursts of untamed lightning, incandescent flames, gelid frost, stony matter, hallowed brilliance, and eldritch shade. The otherworldly gleam of his eyes succumbed to rest, fading into the collected cerulean they were known for. He would sigh and place his hands upon the crossed legs that comprised much of his discernible posture. Instructor Lucis's head would rise to the sight of another presence that made itself known to him purely at the behest of the aggravated senses that revived at a peculiar degree of potency with the advent of his awakening. Chilly lips parted to facilitate an expression of his thoughts, no doubt profound given the nature of his ostensible meditation.
"....Did that occur on a Monday or a Tuesday?"
...Okay. Or maybe he was just that much of a dork.