05-17-2024, 03:20 PM
It had been some time since their experiments on the flora out on the fringes of the kingdom and, admittedly, Oaks had welcomed the mild lapse in his ‘lessons.’
He had continued to practice, though. Determination still coiled itself within his heart like a fist grasping a lifeline, a meager thread of hope. Zain’s words still burned in his mind, to focus and to visualize your power as a limb…feel it reach out from you. The spotted stallion had continued to try, still taking the instruction literally and imagining a phantasmal tree branch extending out from somewhere near his chest. Its fingers would spread wide, seeking to light upon his intended target with specific intent. However, these feeble grasps could never quite find purchase – at least, not consistently.
As winter pressed upon the world, some of the thinner-skinned animals and more delicate plants began to succumb more readily to his attempts. Oaks had not intended to see them to their ends, though; spurred with some optimism from that brief blessing of actual suppression, he had hoped to ease some of their pain – the ailing old fox stricken with a terrible cough, the beautiful primrose shriveling in the cold clay around it – but it seemed that once again the powers of Beqanna had seen fit to shift within him.
Death had returned to him, no longer held at bay by a more amicable force.
He had withdrawn again as a result, back into the depths of the desert where his magic could cause less damage. Wandering within his new home, he finds himself near the eastern edge where the air carries more moisture thanks to the briny ocean water just over the horizon. The winds are more prevalent, gusting through the canyons with the notable saltiness of the sea, and avian life kites along the less tangible waves overhead. Although the sun is bright, its angle prevents much of its heat from reaching the northern coast, leaving a minor chill on the breeze.
This coolness is amplified when he reaches the beach itself where the wind is no longer contained to the corridors of the canyon and left free to tousle his bi-colored mane. For a moment, he revels in the comfort of being alone. A quick survey of the area, however, reveals that he is not the only one here; not too far to the north of him stands the recognizable form of Zain, tall and visibly decrepit even from this distance.
Oaks pauses for a moment, vaguely debating whether he truly wants to approach his unlikely mentor or whether his loneliness suited him more. In the end, he decides it might be worthwhile to share the news of his magic’s reversion to its usual unpredictable and unhappy means. Turning, he approaches the other stallion with a quiet chuff, head held slightly lower in a subconsciously submissive display.
“Zain,” he greets the other man softly, though his attention has turned to the sickly bush of prickles next to them. A sad smirk lights upon his face. “Another casualty of science?” he asks, nodding to the wearied plant to indicate his meaning. He does not bother trying to focus his own magics, having abandoned the pursuit for the time being, but he looks toward Zain as if awaiting instructions even though they had not planned this meeting.
Surprisingly, the plant does not seem to be affected by Oaks’ own power – yet.
He had continued to practice, though. Determination still coiled itself within his heart like a fist grasping a lifeline, a meager thread of hope. Zain’s words still burned in his mind, to focus and to visualize your power as a limb…feel it reach out from you. The spotted stallion had continued to try, still taking the instruction literally and imagining a phantasmal tree branch extending out from somewhere near his chest. Its fingers would spread wide, seeking to light upon his intended target with specific intent. However, these feeble grasps could never quite find purchase – at least, not consistently.
As winter pressed upon the world, some of the thinner-skinned animals and more delicate plants began to succumb more readily to his attempts. Oaks had not intended to see them to their ends, though; spurred with some optimism from that brief blessing of actual suppression, he had hoped to ease some of their pain – the ailing old fox stricken with a terrible cough, the beautiful primrose shriveling in the cold clay around it – but it seemed that once again the powers of Beqanna had seen fit to shift within him.
Death had returned to him, no longer held at bay by a more amicable force.
He had withdrawn again as a result, back into the depths of the desert where his magic could cause less damage. Wandering within his new home, he finds himself near the eastern edge where the air carries more moisture thanks to the briny ocean water just over the horizon. The winds are more prevalent, gusting through the canyons with the notable saltiness of the sea, and avian life kites along the less tangible waves overhead. Although the sun is bright, its angle prevents much of its heat from reaching the northern coast, leaving a minor chill on the breeze.
This coolness is amplified when he reaches the beach itself where the wind is no longer contained to the corridors of the canyon and left free to tousle his bi-colored mane. For a moment, he revels in the comfort of being alone. A quick survey of the area, however, reveals that he is not the only one here; not too far to the north of him stands the recognizable form of Zain, tall and visibly decrepit even from this distance.
Oaks pauses for a moment, vaguely debating whether he truly wants to approach his unlikely mentor or whether his loneliness suited him more. In the end, he decides it might be worthwhile to share the news of his magic’s reversion to its usual unpredictable and unhappy means. Turning, he approaches the other stallion with a quiet chuff, head held slightly lower in a subconsciously submissive display.
“Zain,” he greets the other man softly, though his attention has turned to the sickly bush of prickles next to them. A sad smirk lights upon his face. “Another casualty of science?” he asks, nodding to the wearied plant to indicate his meaning. He does not bother trying to focus his own magics, having abandoned the pursuit for the time being, but he looks toward Zain as if awaiting instructions even though they had not planned this meeting.
Surprisingly, the plant does not seem to be affected by Oaks’ own power – yet.
OAKS
@
Zain