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OP
OP
- Joined
- Dec 29, 2014
- Location
- Central US
Rising from the carcass, Gaelyn took a seat on the log lethargically and accepted the flat stone with a quiet, gracious nod. Sweet and savory was a good way to start a day, and for a few minutes of quiet peace, he was able to slip the events of the previous days out of his memory and exist in a moment that did not try to kill him. He found his mind wandering to Ivy, instead, and kept those thoughts private for the moment. The act of pushing those ideas behind his own personal veil recalled to mind the training exercise that was ahead of them that day.
Gaelyn had already seen more than Ivy likely suspected, when he had raked the intruder out of her head the first time. No doubt this exercise would reveal another layer to him, and some part of him, he realized, wanted that. He was beginning to grow curious what made her tick. The cold, snotty bitch that he had thought he knew at the Academy had long been replaced by a much more complex, nuanced human, whose tough outer shell was paper-thin and inflated by the heat thrown off by the roiling sea of emotions bubbling underneath. What first had presented as coldness was a defense; what had presented as irritable was sensitivity. Gaelyn had a better picture now, of what her life had looked like before she came to the Academy. And he could see why she would.
"Aye..." he answered her back. "It's about time we did, I think." He shucked the last mushroom off the stick and tossed it back into the fire, dusting his hands off and turning to face her. Waiting for her to set her plate aside, he regarded her seriously. "You don't have to tell me what it is, but do you have your focus picked out?"
“Mmh,” she replied through her final mouthful, before shuffling her plate off onto the tree trunk. “I do, but I’ll keep it to myself for now. Give you more incentive to try and figure it out.” She rose her eyebrows in Gaelyn’s direction, but there was an underlying twitchiness about her as she turned slightly to face him. “So… where do you wanna do this?”
Crouching before her, he spread his hands. "Right here," he said simply. "I've heard of entire battlegrounds in the minds at a dinner party, wars fought with every combatant in their beds. Unlike physical combat, mental combat can happen anywhere, any time."
“I guess that much, I should already know,” Ivy said quietly, taking a deep breath and then meeting Gaelyn’s gaze. She searched him for a moment before she spoke again. “Alright. I’m ready. Though if you’re thinking about starting an actual war in my head, I should warn you that now might not be the best time. Just sayin’.”
Gaelyn held her gaze for a moment longer than necessary. Then he reached out, not with his hands, but with the practiced sweep of his thoughts, a pressure that didn’t press on her skin but moved like heat rising off stone. It was subtle at first, no shout of power, no crackling aura, just a tension in the air like the hush before lightning splits a mountaintop.
“Alright,” he said quietly. “Don’t brace everything at once. Just focus on the surface. Keep your mind clear, steady. Hold your anchor, and keep that memory in front.” A breath, and then, “I’m coming in.”
The world didn’t change all at once. The fire still crackled, the dirt still pressed under his legs. But his awareness dipped below, like slipping a hand beneath the surface of still water, and Ivy was there, not just as a presence across from him, but as a constellation of thought and reaction. Her surface was drawn up, cautious but tentative. A first attempt. She was holding something close, just under the surface. A memory or image wrapped around her like a scarf, something warm and protective.
He didn’t try to guess. He wasn’t there yet. Instead, he gathered his will, not brute force, but focused pressure, and reached toward her with the gentlest application of power. A probing brush, like a fingertip testing glass for cracks. Ivy’s outer layer held. For a moment, it held.
Then he gave a simple push, and something shifted. She faltered. Just a flicker of uncertainty, the thought behind the anchor wobbling like a coin spun too slow. And in that slip, he was through. He didn’t push far. The second layer rippled into view, unbidden, as he crossed the threshold: the smell of chalk dust. Cool stone beneath bare feet. Rows of empty chairs. Ivy’s sanctuary, cracked open just wide enough to show a glimpse of it abandoned. A classroom, quiet and still and hollowed by grief. He guess that this was most likely not the anchor she’d chosen.
Gaelyn stopped short. The breach was enough. He pulled back like a hand from a hot stove, withdrawing with more care than force, sealing the layer behind him as he returned to himself. Reality reasserted itself in slow gradients. Birds chirped in the trees. Kisa shifted slightly by the fire. The warmth of sun against his neck became distinct again from the mental warmth of Ivy’s thoughts. Gaelyn opened his eyes.
“You lost your grip,” he said, not unkindly. “Not on the barrier, but on the memory holding it up.” His voice was calm, neutral, a soldier giving field notes. But there was a faint crease between his brows. “I didn’t go deep. Just far enough to see you let it slip.” He didn’t describe what he saw. She’d know. And if she didn’t… well, they’d talk about it in time.
He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “Try again. Stronger this time. Wrap it tighter. I’m going to press a little harder.”
Gaelyn had already seen more than Ivy likely suspected, when he had raked the intruder out of her head the first time. No doubt this exercise would reveal another layer to him, and some part of him, he realized, wanted that. He was beginning to grow curious what made her tick. The cold, snotty bitch that he had thought he knew at the Academy had long been replaced by a much more complex, nuanced human, whose tough outer shell was paper-thin and inflated by the heat thrown off by the roiling sea of emotions bubbling underneath. What first had presented as coldness was a defense; what had presented as irritable was sensitivity. Gaelyn had a better picture now, of what her life had looked like before she came to the Academy. And he could see why she would.
"Aye..." he answered her back. "It's about time we did, I think." He shucked the last mushroom off the stick and tossed it back into the fire, dusting his hands off and turning to face her. Waiting for her to set her plate aside, he regarded her seriously. "You don't have to tell me what it is, but do you have your focus picked out?"
“Mmh,” she replied through her final mouthful, before shuffling her plate off onto the tree trunk. “I do, but I’ll keep it to myself for now. Give you more incentive to try and figure it out.” She rose her eyebrows in Gaelyn’s direction, but there was an underlying twitchiness about her as she turned slightly to face him. “So… where do you wanna do this?”
Crouching before her, he spread his hands. "Right here," he said simply. "I've heard of entire battlegrounds in the minds at a dinner party, wars fought with every combatant in their beds. Unlike physical combat, mental combat can happen anywhere, any time."
“I guess that much, I should already know,” Ivy said quietly, taking a deep breath and then meeting Gaelyn’s gaze. She searched him for a moment before she spoke again. “Alright. I’m ready. Though if you’re thinking about starting an actual war in my head, I should warn you that now might not be the best time. Just sayin’.”
Gaelyn held her gaze for a moment longer than necessary. Then he reached out, not with his hands, but with the practiced sweep of his thoughts, a pressure that didn’t press on her skin but moved like heat rising off stone. It was subtle at first, no shout of power, no crackling aura, just a tension in the air like the hush before lightning splits a mountaintop.
“Alright,” he said quietly. “Don’t brace everything at once. Just focus on the surface. Keep your mind clear, steady. Hold your anchor, and keep that memory in front.” A breath, and then, “I’m coming in.”
The world didn’t change all at once. The fire still crackled, the dirt still pressed under his legs. But his awareness dipped below, like slipping a hand beneath the surface of still water, and Ivy was there, not just as a presence across from him, but as a constellation of thought and reaction. Her surface was drawn up, cautious but tentative. A first attempt. She was holding something close, just under the surface. A memory or image wrapped around her like a scarf, something warm and protective.
He didn’t try to guess. He wasn’t there yet. Instead, he gathered his will, not brute force, but focused pressure, and reached toward her with the gentlest application of power. A probing brush, like a fingertip testing glass for cracks. Ivy’s outer layer held. For a moment, it held.
Then he gave a simple push, and something shifted. She faltered. Just a flicker of uncertainty, the thought behind the anchor wobbling like a coin spun too slow. And in that slip, he was through. He didn’t push far. The second layer rippled into view, unbidden, as he crossed the threshold: the smell of chalk dust. Cool stone beneath bare feet. Rows of empty chairs. Ivy’s sanctuary, cracked open just wide enough to show a glimpse of it abandoned. A classroom, quiet and still and hollowed by grief. He guess that this was most likely not the anchor she’d chosen.
Gaelyn stopped short. The breach was enough. He pulled back like a hand from a hot stove, withdrawing with more care than force, sealing the layer behind him as he returned to himself. Reality reasserted itself in slow gradients. Birds chirped in the trees. Kisa shifted slightly by the fire. The warmth of sun against his neck became distinct again from the mental warmth of Ivy’s thoughts. Gaelyn opened his eyes.
“You lost your grip,” he said, not unkindly. “Not on the barrier, but on the memory holding it up.” His voice was calm, neutral, a soldier giving field notes. But there was a faint crease between his brows. “I didn’t go deep. Just far enough to see you let it slip.” He didn’t describe what he saw. She’d know. And if she didn’t… well, they’d talk about it in time.
He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “Try again. Stronger this time. Wrap it tighter. I’m going to press a little harder.”
