40th Trial, Ymiden, 719
How much does a rock weigh in a dream?
As much as you want it to.
His dreamscape was still the shattered, empty place it had been for trials now. Etzos as it likely was, battered and ruined, surviving the onslaught of Lissira's hordes but doing so by the skin of her teeth. Trials before, Kasoria had walked in his dreams for the first time, and found his home all but destroyed. Then again, there was a lot of grey area in "all but". Just like "almost" or "practically". It all depended on the will to mend and the time to do so. Fortunately for him, he had time to spare in his dreams... and he was fast learning how to make this place of mist and ether work for him in the waking world.
The little man had worked quietly, talking only to the one-eyed alley cat that showed up now and then to watch him. He doubted Bella would be waiting for him when he got back home. If swathes of humans by the tens of thousands had been wiped out, famine and anarchy had followed. Stringy street cats with meat wrapped around their bones didn't last long once that happened. But here, in his dreams, Bella was alive and well and snarky as ever.
"Think that's the right size?"
"Size and weight," he confirmed for her, hefting the chunk of masonry about a third as large as his torso. A rough and jagged mass of a thing, not a circle by any means, it still had the potential he was looking for. And the fact he did have to heft it let him know he could do what he planned. "'til I find something better, anyway."
The cat purred and with a human voice coming out of her, it sounded more like a snort of amusement. She went back to cleaning herself on the edge of the yard wall, perched precariously between two gashes smashed into the bricks. Below her, Kasoria was stripped to the waist. He lifted up the rock. First up off the ground, then up to his chest... adjusted his hands so they went under it... and then-
-grunted as he burst upward, rock how over his head. He held the pose for a few moments, getting accustomed to the strain. He smiled in spite of it. This was all in his head. Every bit of it. Yet his muscles, his joints, his bones, his lungs and his heart, all were reacting as if he were waking. Because he willed it to be so, and so his mind made it that way. The little man edged his feet out to the side, so they were shoulder-width... then he crouched... feeling the burn in his thighs as he did so, the stretching, straining ache... at the same time as he lowered the rock to his chest...
Here comes the hard part.
With a grunt he forced his arms up, from bent to straight, doing the same with his legs. In an instant the man went from crouching to standing, rock held high over his head. He held the pose... then started to lower it again... and crouching again. That was one movement. He wanted at least ten for this set. He breathed in as his body contracted downwards, filling his lungs until his legs were bent enough and the rock was cold and gritty against his chest and-
-another burst, this time a mite harder. Already his muscles were burning under his skin, straining and swollen with the exertion. He could even feel sweat start to spring from his forehead as he began the next movement. By the fifth, it was starting to drip. But still he continued. Bending, flexing, contracting, bursting, over and over and all the time, his mind was only on the next.
Don't think about the whole lot. Just the next one. Not the mile or the race, just the next step, the next breath.
The world rose and fell around him, as his body did the same. He barely noticed it. No point using his eyes for this task. He could feel the weight of the slab, seeming to grow with every movement, and he had but to match it with his own strength. His body pleaded with him to cease, but he refused. Ten. Now ten more. He screwed his eyes shut as sweat flowed into them, burning and scalding his vision.
Eighteen...
Nineteen...
Twe... Twe...
The cat's tail stopped twitching above him. Even Bella seemed curious now, watching the strange, self-flagellating human pause. He was shaking. His muscles ached. He stank of chemicals his body released to fight the pain he was inflicting upon himself. But then he breathed in again, and with a hoarse cry-
-hefted the rock up over his head, held it in numbing hands for a moment-
-then stepped away sharply-
CRACK
-letting the heavy stone chunk smash down onto the cobbles of the yard. The little man stood there for long moments. Hands on his hips, breathing so deep and exhaling so hard he seemed to swell and shrink every other moment. Finally he swept the back of his hands across his face and looked up at her. The cat yawned and rolled onto her side.
"Done?"
"Not... quite..."
He was tired, and ached, and wanted to rest. But what he wanted and what he would do were different things. Even in this place, solely in his mind, his true flesh sleeping under a threadbare blanket in the new wastelands between Etzos and Westguard, he could not break the habit. The harder he pushed, the further he had to go. Because if he faltered and failed, left his regimen unfinished coming so close to the end, all that pain was for nothing. So the little man shook his long hair like a dog and sent sweat flying everywhere. Even Bella bristled as a droplet or too spattered into her mangy fur. Mangy, but at least she didn't have monkey sweat in it.
Kasoria walked over to the rock, rolling his shoulders, twisting from side to side. Things popped and cracked from his knees to his neck. Good. Get the kinks out before he started again.
Shoulders and Legs. But that's just two.
"Time for the back."
"Your funeral."
Kasoria grunted in amusement and bent over. Keeping his legs somewhat straight, under he found the proper handholds around the jagged hunk of rubble. This one, he really had to be careful. He didn't want to lose his grip and crush his feet-
"Why? Because your body would be so badly damaged?"
"It's a hard... unh... habit t'break..."
He spoke between movements. Lifting the rock upwards so his spine went from perpendicular to vertical. Keeping his legs a little bent to take some of the weight, but focusing most of it into his back. He could maintain this for longer, and so decided on fifteen movements in a group, not just ten. But he had to be watchful. Throwing out a shoulder was one thing; damaging your back... he could hardly afford that at his age.
"Again, you're not-"
"It bloody well feels like it, a'right?!"
Bella just yawned at him, remorseless and carefree as any feline every born and bred and lorded over mankind. Kasoria let out another bark as he bobbed up and down like a clockwork doll. Rock between his fingers getting heavier with every movement. Until he was sweating again, salty drops becoming rivulets that soaked into his breeches. Fates, but he could smell it and taste it, just like in the waking world. He let his mind latch onto the idea, the mystery of this place he still had yet to solve. It was a fine distraction, if nothing else.
How much does a rock weigh in a dream?
"Depends on how much the dreamer wants to damage himself."
Kasoria grunted but did not reply. It never helped to argue with cats.
I am sooo going to have to put that in a "Lisirra" post.
