Acrobatics Memory 2

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Mads
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Acrobatics Memory 2

716 Ashan 20

There were a lot of rocks in Quacia. There were jagged shards of quartz, soft rounds of pumice, faded and smoothed stones of marble and granite, and many, many more. Mostly, though, there was the nameless, grey Qucian “rock”. It coloured the city, the streets, the interiors and exteriors of homes. It was ubiquitous, as common as air or thought, and, for the most part, it was harmless.

With the exception of it being hurled at one’s head.

Precariously balanced on an old, half-crumbling balustrade, he leaned the side, arms out to keep his balance, as the poorly aimed rock whizzed past his face. He felt the old stone shift beneath him, and he bent his knees to better centre his weight, forcing his arms to still as he tottered back and forth. When the motion finally ceased, an aggravating voice called out from across the empty space of air.

“Whoa, almost took a spill there, huh?” Ademar’s expression was one of clear concern, tinged with a light attempt at amusement.

Graciana had been called away for a ten-trial on business – the sort of business dangerous and unpredictable enough, she’d left him in the care of the dark-haired, narrow-eyed man who stared at him like a nervous chef waiting for water to boil. It made efficient training a hassle, as the man seemed to be constantly worried Mads’ life was in perpetual danger.

They were only a story’s height up off of the ground. The worst that would happen would be broken shields and some bruising. Not that Ademar seemed to fully grasp what it was Mads’ magic even did. “You alright?”

“Yes, Ademar, I am fine.” There was a slight strain in his voice as he rose to stand, twitching to his left and right to keep himself from tumbling over the sides of the wide railing. “Please continue.”

“Okay…”

Several more rocks were hurled with abysmal intention such that he merely needed to stand still to avoid them. “Ademar. I assure you, even should you hit me, I will be fine. Just as I was the trial before – and the trial before that.” His voice was nothing but calm. In order to progress, he required there to be a challenge to overcome, as Graciana had taught him to do. Weakly lobbed stones that clattered onto the cobles below as harmless as the gentle sunlight of the mid-day’s pleasant warmth were not something to overcome – at least not in the physical sense. “Now, please try to hit me.”

Again the rocks flew, but this time they moved in a relatively straight line through the air. Most collided with his chest and shoulders, harmlessly bouncing off of him and ricocheting off in all manner of different directions. As Graciana had explained, he chose specific rocks to dodge, his eyes carefully keeping track of those he imagined he’d be able to avoid and those that were essentially unavoidable.

Some of the chosen stones were easy enough to avoid – a slight lean to the side, a quick duck, a slight adjustment of stance to minimize how much of his body was exposed to the onslaught. Others were utter failures, his attempts at elusion resulting in far more unsuccessful aversions than there might have been had he chosen a different stone to focus on.

In the short lapses between each round of bombardment, Mads used the time to wipe the gathering sweat from his brow and take stock of his surroundings – primarily the state of the railing. He’d known it was old and unstable from the moment they’d started about a break before, but he hadn’t realized just how decrepit it was until he reflexively picked up his foot to avoid getting hit.

To his dismay, not only did the rock catch at the side of his boot’s sole but the entire balustrade, at last, let out a weary, crumbling rumble and collapsed beneath him. His thoughts all calmly evaluated the situation as it unfolded around him. He immediately knew he needed to grab onto something sturdy, to keep himself from slamming into the ground below. Reaching out, his fingers closed around one of the small, stone pillars that had been supporting the now tumbling bits and pieces of the railing, but, as he continued to fall, the stone cracked and gave way.

Only this time, the entire balcony decided to come with it.

Ademar shouted something, but Mads couldn’t quite hear it over the rush of wind in his ears. Though it was only a matter of trills, he managed to replicate several more layers of hardened air around himself before he smashed into the ground, the pile of dust, brick, mortar, and stone effectively burying him in a rush of pressure and weight and darkness.

It was a curious sensation, being buried alive. He couldn’t breathe; he couldn’t move; he couldn’t see anything. Panic would have overtaken the common man, but, as his spark steadily drained the remaining reserves of his ether, Mads felt only a vague sense of disappointment. He’d overestimated both the balcony and himself, and it had resulted in… his death?

Somewhere in his stomach, he felt a twinge of panic as if the cool, calm spark that was neatly tucked within the folds of his soul was beginning to realize exactly how bad the situation actually was. But panic wasn’t going to fix anything – nothing he could do was going to fix anything. He was able to wiggle his fingers on both hands, but he already felt the burn in his lungs, the overwhelming need to inhale. He fought it for as long as he could, but when it was finally too much-

He blinked as light poured in with bits of grit and dust; his first spluttering gasp was followed by a quick succession of coughs as Ademar frantically dug through the rubble. When he could finally move his arms, he joined in. After several sweaty, silent bits, he was finally free of his stone prison. His shielding had held up, but it wouldn’t have stopped his eventual suffocation.

“Thank you,” Mads started, clearing his raspy throat with another, shallow cough. “That was… unexpected.” Free from imminent danger, he no longer felt anything – a convenient development, as he had most definitely not enjoying the rising hints of hysteria that had threatened to overpower him whilst he had been buried beneath the rocks.

“I thought you-“ Ademar swallowed, audibly. “I’m glad you’re alright.”

With a slight downward turn of his lips, Mads’ brow rose in a careful arc. “I am. Shall we continue?”

“Continue? You almost died!”

“’Almost’ being the operative word, Ademar.” He glanced back at the vaguely human-shaped hole in the midst of the debris. “I misjudged my surroundings, and I paid the price for it.” Settling his calm, bright gaze onto the still confused looking dark haired man, he offered a more clarifying explanation. “Perhaps you misunderstand what it is Graciana expects from me.”

“I… she asked me to help you train and keep you safe.”

“Well, you have been doing an acceptable job of the prior and an excellent job of the latter.” He paused, smiling, allowing an acceptable number of trills to pass for the compliment to be received before he continued in his ever calm and casual tone, “But the job is not done; we will continue for another three breaks, as we have done for the past four trials. Understood?”

Though he and Graciana shared no blood – that they didn’t eat, of course – he’d inherited far more from her than anything from either of his parents. She’d given him her commanding presence, her natural calm, her careful diction, her high regard for good hygiene, her drive for self-improvement, and much much more. What mattered, at that moment, was what he didn’t inherit: her uncanny ability to comprehend what it was other people seemed to be thinking.

Mads simply didn’t care, and it was evident in his face. It was not the condescending sort of narcissism one might have expected from a young, wealthy scion such as himself, rather, there was merely a complete lack of anything but his quiet yet assertive voice. There was no doubt in his mind they would continue for the rest of the previously set-aside time, as they had done each trial before, but he waited with a passing expectancy in his posture. It was polite to allow other people a say, even if it wouldn’t change the outcome.

“But-“

“We will remain on solid ground for the remainder of the trial if that is troubling you.”

“That does help, but-“

“Excellent.” Without waiting to hear any further concerns, Mads knelt down to start gathering up some stones from the mess of the now grounded balcony. He preferred to have noticeable improvements in his studies – both intellectual and physical – whenever Graciana left him behind. It was a matter of quietly showing her that he was always improving and, soon, would not need to be considered as a burden – rather an asset.

Stones in hand, he gestured toward the end of the alley, asking a question that needed no answer, as he had already started down the way before the words even passed through his lips. “Shall we try over there?”
word count: 1580
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Oberan
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Re: Acrobatics Memory 2

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Madscrobat

Points awarded: 10

Knowledge:

acrobatics-
balancing on a ledge
crouching to center one's weight
dodging via small shifts to the left and right
focusing on a target in order to anticipate how to avoid it
keep still to better maintain balnace on a shifting surface

meditation-
the feeling of panic

Magic: No magic exp

Other: N/A

Notes:
I have a soft spot for NPCs, to be honest, so I'm always glad when they feel like different people. Sometimes they're nothing more than a shell just there for exposition, but Ademar felt like a pretty 3 dimensional figure, which made reading this thread all the more interesting.

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word count: 155
Just because I shouldn't doesn't mean I won't.


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