68 Winter, 513
The sea. It was a noble, powerful force, worthy of respect and admiration to be sure, but Volanaro did not afford either of those to it. To him, it was a tool, a toy to be played with and cast about into Reimancy as he desired. More than once, he had already done so, reveling in the ritualistic conversion of Djed into Res, spilling it out of the body and manipulating shape and form as necessary. It was his tool, the paint brush that he employed to paint his environment with a rich tapestry of ice. Or warp it with air. Splash it with water. The discovery of the para-element of ice, known to him for nearly a century but employed only as necessary, was beginning to gnaw at him.
For 400 years, Volanaro's delving into the art of Reimancy had been slow, the boy Nuit finding far more interest in measuring the passing of time, passing through it much like a ghost, though his undead condition allowed him the ability to leave a permanent mark upon the world. And at times, he did. But, it was the Djed Storm that had truly inspired him to begin a far more active shaping of the world, the Nuit enthralled by the concept of altering the scape of reality rather than simply watching it pass him by. The world aged, passed. People grew old, contacts lost to the cold grip of death. Volanaro was, by definition, no longer a mortal. He had been an immortal for more than 500 years now, and the role he had given himself, as timekeeper, was no longer of interest. Tanroa was not a Goddess he revered.
Shaking his head of the thought, Volanaro allowed his mind to wander to the sea again, his mind racing at the possibilities of his craft. He was limited, truly, only by the amount of control he could exert over his Res, a variable that was directly associated with the concentration of Res he wished to manifest.
So many options... But I have built spheres of Res before. I have... another idea in mind now.
Eyes closed as the Reimancer lifted his hands, clasped together almost in a way of prayer before separating them. His arms extended outwards, palms outstretched as the Res began to flee from the pores at his fingertips. It rose as a gaseous mass, wafting into the air, almost independent of his will. Two masses of crimson miasma, the form his Res took, dispersed, his hands raising to direct it, each finger controlling a different movement for each distinct mass. He brought the masses together, extending control to his hands as a collective instead as he spread the Res along the top of the rippling tides, approximately four meters from his person. The Res dispersed as a froth of white tide crashed into it, but Volanaro merely grinned.
The froth of the wave itself seemed to stay in place as it made contact, Volanaro willing the layer of miasma, approximately four feet across and two inches thick, to magnetise the wave, pulling water from its course towards the shore. The liquid coated the layer of Res, swirling crimson slowly becoming blurred, and at points, completely invisible as Syna's light reflected off of the water that rose. Volanaro's fists clenched, the uppermost layer, a quarter-inch of the Res below the water Transmuted, converted from the miasma into freezing air, the Reimancerwatching as the water he had Magnetised was transformed into a shining discus of ice.
There was still an amount of Res stored within, allowing the Reimancer a measure of control over his creation. It allowed it to remain airborne, though the Nuit pulled it towards him, the discus tilted to float before him, as if the boy desired to use it as a mirror. A finger reached out to touch it, the cold scarcely felt on dead flesh as Syna's light reflected Volanaro's appearance back at him.
Success.
I thought you had abandoned our thread T_T And, mine is just as short