The Art of Hypnotism

[Rosela]

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Timestamp: 39th of Autumn, 513AV

Rosela felt almost silly, practically smuggling the Hypnotism book down the street. She hugged it to her midsection under her closed cloak, trying to be conscious of keeping her face casual. Today, she didn't even make eyes at the good looking men she passed; all effort was put into looking as inconspicuous as possible. No one could ever guess at her having any connections to the magic.

One hand slipped out as she approached her shop door, quickly unlocking it and allowing her to slip inside. As much as she would have liked to learn from the comfort and privacy of her own home, the Sanctuary Project required her attention. It was her day to knot beads, a task so mind-numbing that it was perfect to go along with her little alternate project.

It had been a couple days since she'd looked into the various magical disciplines, and since then, she'd been back to the library nearly every night. The only one who'd seen her with the Hypnotism book had been the library boy, and after that, she'd made sure he caught her with a book on a different magic each night. In reality, she'd bought a journal and had been copying 'The Art of Hypnotism' into it to take home. It had helped her immensely, forcing her to read every word. She'd translated everything into Arumenic, as an additional level of security, though there were some words she didn't know the translation for.

Safely inside her back room, she untucked the book and pulled it out from under her cloak. It was bound in dark brown leather, and looked like nothing more than a large diary. However, it had gotten well-worn in the past few days, and opening it up, she saw her own slanting Arumenic in neat, black ink.

As unsecured as the shop felt, it was populated only by the shadows in these late, after-work hours and they knew the value of a secret. She pulled the expanse of black leather into her lap, opened up the bag of stones, and began threading the waxed linen. In front of her, in her two topmost hands, she held the book open to reread.
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[Rosela]

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It was more relaxing to read the book now that she was not alternating between being on the watch for people and trying to translate. The ideas were all familiar at this point, and she returned to the section on Techniques.

'Suggestion' intrigued her most, as being the most practical as well as the safest. Making a small suggestion to visit her store, or tell their friends about it would be her most commonly used technique. She'd already come up with a code of ethics for herself - she would use Hypnotism to advance the popularity of her shop, never to induce a customer to buy. She didn't need tricks to get people to buy her wares, her skill spoke for itself. Getting people to the door however... There she could use a little help.

'Emotional Response' would be of use as well, such as a feeling of comfort in the store, or a dissatisfaction with their current wardrobe. The rest of the techniques were progressively more severe, and progressively unnecessary for her uses. However, an unbidden thought of the barbarian Razkar came to mind, with the wish that she could employ some of these on him. Give him a nice Emotional Surge and Hallucination for standing her up. ...Miserable creature.

Shaking her head to clear the vengeful thoughts, she focused briefly on the repetitive action of knot-tying. She'd spent some time working out what knots to use on this project, wanting something much more than the half-hitch knots she typically used in beading. Instead, she used a buntline hitch knot, a rope knot if the book she'd referenced was correct. Each knot took a little longer, but she hoped it would pay off by lasting longer.

Her top hands flipped through the book, trying to refocus. Initiation came up, though the section was a short one. Meditation was needed to learn Hypnotism, and lots of it. Finishing up the knot she was working on, she put the pile of leather to the side and got up. She didn't have a mirror in the back, but quickly retrieved one from the front. It was an awkward setup above her desk, but in the end, she could sit at her desk and stare into the mirror. It was surprisingly pleasant - she liked looking at herself.

After a few chimes of setting up lines and lines of beads to knot, she settled in, and began knotting mindlessly while staring into the mirror. The first few chimes were awkward, as she acclimated to the now-familiar act of knotting without looking. The next few chimes were spent mentally critiquing the angle of her nose before she realized what she was doing, and refocused on her eyes. She'd always liked her eyes, a pretty green that stood out against her skin. Her makeup drew her focus and once again, she forced herself to concentrate. The book had said to empty the mind, to allow everything around her to become meaningless.

She stared past the green irises into the black pupil and forced herself to stare until the surrounding areas went dark. All the existed was the green-outlined back of her pupils. It was almost easy to fall into, to go slack and let nothing exist except for the frivolous movement of her hands and the eyes in the mirror.

She came back as abruptly as falling out of bed, reaching for the next knot to tie and finding nothing. There was no way of knowing how long it had been, except the darkness outside, which hadn't changed. Sighing, her breath sounded heavier, as though she'd been sleeping. Shifting the leather on the table, she spent half a bell setting up more knots, this time for the rest of the robe. If anything, the practice had allowed the dull task of knotting to go by quickly.
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[Rosela]

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The world felt dark and quiet. Nothing existed, save the slow rise and fall of her breath, and the fluttering of her fingers. Even her eyes, which had been her focus, were no longer truly her eyes. The shape of her face was only a vague image, kept in place by the stillness of her vision.

Breathe in.

Breath out.

Flitter, flutter of her fingers.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

When her fingers next met the patch of bare leather, unprepared for a knot, it was once again as though waking from sleep. Her fingers felt uselessly against the back of the leather, and finding nothing, she was forced to look down. She felt disoriented, surprised, and the fingers of her two hands rubbed against each other in the sudden absence of feeling. Slowly, she came back to herself and realized she'd finished the beading on the main body of the robe.

It seemed a good idea that she multi-task while learning to look inwards, but in reality she was only limiting herself. The small amount of beads that remained could be added later; she needed to concentrate. Folding up the leather, she sat back and once again stared at herself in the mirror. It was harder to settle into the mindlessness of the moment, and she found herself fidgeting the fingers of her two topmost hands while doing it. The first time she caught herself, she stopped and made a determined attempt to clear her mind. The second time, she decided the motion was comforting and ignored it as easily as she had the act of tying the knots.

The darkness came and she settled into it easily. It was comforting in a way, to allow her mind to float. One by one, her usual thoughts attempted to intrude, but were allowed to slide away. Her diminishing supply of women’s belts, the rise in the price of silk, the messiness of her work table… The darkness came and centered around the green-rimmed irises in the mirror. Her breathing became paramount, the motion of her fingers a soothing peripheral motion.

She wasn’t sure how long she sat there, but a falling sensation sent her starting awake and she realized she had nearly nodded off. Sighing deeply, she ran her fingers through her hair and realized her two thumbs were sore from the repeated motion of circling and pushing. She would continue her practice tomorrow.

The sounds of her door lock sliding into place were nearly deafening in the late night air, and a chill breeze swept along the street. Looking up she saw a lone figure strolling down the street, a young Akalak man with broad shoulders and an expensive furred cape that looked suspiciously like one of her designs. It billowed impressively in the breeze, showing off his fine build with his hands pushed casually into his pockets.

Pushing her key into her own purse, Rosela straightened and began moving up the street, opposite to him. It was much like the act of seduction, a discipline she’d studied with earnest not so long ago. The right moment was needed and just the right push. Straightening her back, she slowly turned her head to look at him as she walked, allowing a secretive smile when he noticed and looked back. His steps slowed, anticipating some action on her part, but she was pushing her mind against his, visualizing her influence as fragrant red fog reaching between them. The air seemed to still with time itself as he moved closer.

‘Don’t speak,’ she told him in her mind. ‘You don’t want to talk to me. Don’t say anything.’ She was openly looking at him, and her past experience told her that a good looking man would want to at least greet a good looking woman watching him. Under her cloak, two of her hands came together of their own volition and her thumbs rubbed soothingly. ‘Don’t speak. Just pass by.’

He seemed confused slightly, and they were close enough now that she could see his brow furrowing in the moonlight. Was he confused that a woman was openly staring at him wordlessly, or was he questioning why he had the urge to not call out some manner of greeting? She prayed for the latter. Her hands squeezed together with the effort of projecting her thoughts, her thumbs moving slowly, anxiously. She and the man were mere feet away now, and the moment would be broken soon. He just had to pass by without saying anything and this would be her victory-

”Oh!” So intent was she on the man that she kicked the edge of a protruding cobblestone, stumbling awkwardly. Her hands flew apart to steady herself and suddenly the man was there, steadying her with firm hands.

“Are you okay, miss? Hard to keep your step on these dark streets.”

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[Rosela]

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Rosela waved goodbye as the man turned the corner and was gone from sight. She felt she’d successfully hidden her anger at herself, as he’d seemed quite insistent, perhaps overly so, on walking her home and making dull conversation about his masonry business. He’d recognized her from her shop, but had dominated the conversation beyond that.

If only she hadn’t tripped… She made a concerted effort not to slam her cottage door behind her. She truly wanted to believe that she had had him, and it was only the interruption of her stumble that had broken the connection. The shadows left her alone, and without her usual greeting and initiation of conversation, they seemed only mildly interested in her for the moment. She wondered if they knew what she was up to. She wondered if they cared.

Throwing her cloak onto the bed, she grabbed her pillow to sit in front of the mirror, seeing the now unusually familiar shape of her face. Staring into her eyes, she imagined filling the air around her with her red fog, the perfume of her influence. As the darkness settled in on her vision again, she pulled slightly out of it, attempting to keep the darkened state as she stood. Unwilling to risk falling asleep in front of the mirror, and paying for it with a miserable back tomorrow, she struck up a candle and grabbed a spoon from her drawer. Wiggling the spoon back and forth into the wax, she embedded it far enough that it stayed, a short ways from the top. Enough for a bell or so.

Returning to the mirror, she was disappointed to see she’d lost the focus and settled back on her pillow to regain it quickly. Her thumbs moved to slide against each other without her thinking about it, and she allowed the dark focus to descend. Billowing red smoke behind her eyes was an easy enough image to maintain, and she pictured the situation with the man going off much better.

She would walk past him, maintaining what should have appeared to be casual eye contact, while he moved into her sphere of influence. He breathed in her smoke and was lost to her, moving by with smooth steps, unsure until he passed why he hadn’t said hello to the pretty woman. He’d turn then, but she’d already be moving quickly up the street. He’d go home, thinking on the encounter, and decide it was his conscious about his late wife (or some such nonsense) that had stayed his voice. A strange man, calling out to a young woman in the dead of night? He’d decide how sensible it was of him not to do so and go to sleep without another thought on it. Except, hopefully, how pretty the young woman was, and perhaps a resolve to see her again sometime. That was just gravy though.

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[Taylani]

XP Award!

Rosela:

XP Award:

• +1 stealth
• +3 Hypnosis
• +1 Knotting
• +2 beading
• +3 MeditationExample 2

Lore:

• Hypnosis: Suggestion
• Hypnosis: Emotional Response
• Razkar: Miserable Creature

Notes:

Comments :

Please feel free to pm me with concerns about the grade. Don't forget to edit/delete your grade request.

TAYLANI