Winter 30 512 AV
There was a noticeable calm in the lab which the nuit worked. It was not chaotic as it had been mere days ago. Since his arrival there had been work to do, much work, and since his arrival many things had happened. It was in this chaotic mess that the nuit found himself struggling to keep up, struggling to grasp onto exactly what was happening. Things seemed to be moving fast, and time was but a blur. There was this knot twisting inside the alchemist that he could not ignore any longer. It was a pitfall, a feeling of butterflies, but beyond that anxiety was the darkness of an extinguished light. It wasn’t common for Rayage to show any weakness, but the burden of his reality was slowly laying on him. The weight of his existence seemed to hold him down, paralyze his thoughts, and it was at this time that the nuit knew that something had to give.
This feeling was a natural force. It was the feeling of resistance of a flow, a plan of action, disturbed by a standing, unmoving being. This natural force was called Change, and its power was absolute, and there was nothing that one could do to stop it. Sure, people can halt its progress, but it can never be stopped, for in the power of change there is perfection, and with anything perfect it is absolute. Change will evolve, shift, and become something unexpected, above the mental and sometimes physical blocks which halt its progress. There is always something greater, and that is Changes greatest lesson. There is always something greater. Always…
In Sahova weakness of any kind could lead to a person’s ruin, and eventually kill them. The nuits played a high stakes game in which they were all pieces on the board. Even the Pulsers were players, albeit ones who hit the glass ceiling, but players nonetheless. They were bound by their flesh, whereas the nuit were bound only by their own existence, their own mind. Though sometimes the boundaries of flesh are preferable to those of the mind, for the mind can play cruel tricks. The mortals had not the centuries of experience which the nuit have, and so the same tricks of the mind do not really plague those who haven’t lived long enough to tax their persona.
”Why?” the question was barely breathed by the nuit as he sat at his desk, the chair however was not facing the writing surface, but outward overlooking his laboratory. ”Why do I feel this way?” he asked himself again, as if verbalizing would help him along the process to recovery, the process of change, to help him undergo a metamorphosis. ”After all these years…” he said, his eyes transfixed upon the alchemy circle which laid in the center of the room in all its glory. For it was the nuits center of power, but it was more than that it was his outlet for expression. If there was something bothering him he could always, always turn to his work, but not now. Not now. No, there was something stopping him. Himself?
He laughed at his own weakness as he further tried to understand himself. ”These emotions, I haven’t felt such in many, many years.” and the term ‘many years’ could be quite some time for the nuit. ”I feel paralyzed?” he tried to stab at the emotion, ”No, nervous, but why?” he again returned to the original question.
This was quite the puzzle. He had just got permission from Qiao himself to complete his lifes work. Why does he feel unable to do it? He pondered the question, mulling it over in his head. If anything he should be happy, he should be ecstatic, he should be beaming with inspiration and joy, but he wasn’t feeling any of this. If anything this felt wrong. If anything he felt empty, he felt unaccomplished, he felt unworthy, he felt like he had falling into something which he could not escape, he felt trapped like some animal, he felt like he was the experiment in this game of life, he felt regret… He felt fear, he felt weak, he felt feeble…
This swirling abyss of emotion was slowly eating the nuit from the inside out. All this time, he felt fear, not only for himself, but for own creations, for he was weak. Does weakness lead to fear? Connecting the dots with but a single question the nuit came to realize that he was far too powerless to protect himself, yet alone protect his babies, his children, his homunculus. He was weak and that was unacceptable. Any wizard with enough power in personal magic could kill him easily, shyke, anyone with who wield a blade could gut him and there was nothing he could do about it. Though was this the fear of death, or perhaps something else?
He tried to work through his emotions with this all too active form of self-reflection and meditation. He could no longer keep up the front that he was better, he felt that he could no longer bluff, no longer lie to himself or his opponent. He felt that he needed to become what he thought he always was: he needed to become powerful.
There was a noticeable calm in the lab which the nuit worked. It was not chaotic as it had been mere days ago. Since his arrival there had been work to do, much work, and since his arrival many things had happened. It was in this chaotic mess that the nuit found himself struggling to keep up, struggling to grasp onto exactly what was happening. Things seemed to be moving fast, and time was but a blur. There was this knot twisting inside the alchemist that he could not ignore any longer. It was a pitfall, a feeling of butterflies, but beyond that anxiety was the darkness of an extinguished light. It wasn’t common for Rayage to show any weakness, but the burden of his reality was slowly laying on him. The weight of his existence seemed to hold him down, paralyze his thoughts, and it was at this time that the nuit knew that something had to give.
This feeling was a natural force. It was the feeling of resistance of a flow, a plan of action, disturbed by a standing, unmoving being. This natural force was called Change, and its power was absolute, and there was nothing that one could do to stop it. Sure, people can halt its progress, but it can never be stopped, for in the power of change there is perfection, and with anything perfect it is absolute. Change will evolve, shift, and become something unexpected, above the mental and sometimes physical blocks which halt its progress. There is always something greater, and that is Changes greatest lesson. There is always something greater. Always…
In Sahova weakness of any kind could lead to a person’s ruin, and eventually kill them. The nuits played a high stakes game in which they were all pieces on the board. Even the Pulsers were players, albeit ones who hit the glass ceiling, but players nonetheless. They were bound by their flesh, whereas the nuit were bound only by their own existence, their own mind. Though sometimes the boundaries of flesh are preferable to those of the mind, for the mind can play cruel tricks. The mortals had not the centuries of experience which the nuit have, and so the same tricks of the mind do not really plague those who haven’t lived long enough to tax their persona.
”Why?” the question was barely breathed by the nuit as he sat at his desk, the chair however was not facing the writing surface, but outward overlooking his laboratory. ”Why do I feel this way?” he asked himself again, as if verbalizing would help him along the process to recovery, the process of change, to help him undergo a metamorphosis. ”After all these years…” he said, his eyes transfixed upon the alchemy circle which laid in the center of the room in all its glory. For it was the nuits center of power, but it was more than that it was his outlet for expression. If there was something bothering him he could always, always turn to his work, but not now. Not now. No, there was something stopping him. Himself?
He laughed at his own weakness as he further tried to understand himself. ”These emotions, I haven’t felt such in many, many years.” and the term ‘many years’ could be quite some time for the nuit. ”I feel paralyzed?” he tried to stab at the emotion, ”No, nervous, but why?” he again returned to the original question.
This was quite the puzzle. He had just got permission from Qiao himself to complete his lifes work. Why does he feel unable to do it? He pondered the question, mulling it over in his head. If anything he should be happy, he should be ecstatic, he should be beaming with inspiration and joy, but he wasn’t feeling any of this. If anything this felt wrong. If anything he felt empty, he felt unaccomplished, he felt unworthy, he felt like he had falling into something which he could not escape, he felt trapped like some animal, he felt like he was the experiment in this game of life, he felt regret… He felt fear, he felt weak, he felt feeble…
This swirling abyss of emotion was slowly eating the nuit from the inside out. All this time, he felt fear, not only for himself, but for own creations, for he was weak. Does weakness lead to fear? Connecting the dots with but a single question the nuit came to realize that he was far too powerless to protect himself, yet alone protect his babies, his children, his homunculus. He was weak and that was unacceptable. Any wizard with enough power in personal magic could kill him easily, shyke, anyone with who wield a blade could gut him and there was nothing he could do about it. Though was this the fear of death, or perhaps something else?
He tried to work through his emotions with this all too active form of self-reflection and meditation. He could no longer keep up the front that he was better, he felt that he could no longer bluff, no longer lie to himself or his opponent. He felt that he needed to become what he thought he always was: he needed to become powerful.