Breathing was just the beginning of meditation, and while properly focusing on it could be a difficult task by itself, once one was familiar with it, it made for a perfect start of a session. Of course, there were many kinds of breathing; there was normal breathing, shallow breathing, panting, relaxed breathing, and so many more For different tasks, Brandon used different techniques and ways to breathe. For running he usually inhaled via his mouth and exhaled via his nose, though only if he was not sprinting. If he was actually dashing, everything happened through his mouth, less controlled than at slower speeds, but that seemed to be the best way to run. When fighting, Brandon usually tried to be as calm as possible, breathing just as calmly. Some people believed tensing up was the way to go, but the Kelvic knew better. It only made you slow, for martial arts one had to be calm and relaxed, analytical too. Adaptive like flowing water, balanced and unforced. Actually, that had been one of the first things his mother had taught him.
The rippling of the water when Dru moved a bit actually helped to increase his concentration as well, though too much and it became distracting. Usually he would just go to a place where few people came, a place where he could be alone and at peace, in silence. No distractions, and no need to try hard to block them out, which was something he had to do now. As such, Dru's question was ignored, though it wasn't like she'd just expect him to answer anyway. No one expected animals to reply, and usually not a lot of people talked this much to non-humanoid beings either, just because of that. Humanoids usually wanted a conversation partner that could actually answer questions and help to keep the conversation alive.
This one was different though. Whether she was a bit broken in the head or just chatty in general he didn't quite know, but from what he'd hear he wouldn't be surprised if it was the former. Being forced to kill off your pets at a young age -though said age had been his mother's when he'd left Kalinor, which was pretty old to him- was no pleasant experience to go through. As a matter of fact, the bat supposed that the reason why the Symenestra seemed so worried for his safety might be a direct result of it. She finally had some sort of pet, and there was no step-mother to tell her to kill it. Perhaps this was a moment she'd been longing for for years... and that was pretty sad. For a tick he considered allowing her to have it her way, and let her rub his belly and pet his head, but that idea was quickly thrown overboard. A proud thief such as himself wouldn't stoop so low that he'd be treated as a pet, no matter if it was to please someone or make them feel better.
Quickly Brandon realized he'd been led astray by his own mind, carried away by the rapids that were his thoughts, while he should have been a boulder in the middle of the river. No thoughts, he had to clear his mind. How did one go about something like that though? Should he focus on something and then let go when he felt he'd gone sufficiently deep? Maybe that was the best way, focus on one singly thing; a word, an object, a color... What though? His mask? His friend? Engghaen's shiny blue eyes? Oh! His scarf! Yes, that was it, focus on the scarf. Slowly, Brandon imagined the shape of it, wrapping itself around his mind, keeping everything else out. The black color pierced his mind, and his mind replicated the scent that clung to it, the feel of the fabric when he held it... Memories flooded back to him, images, sounds, scents and tastes all invading his mind. Not good, no memories. An empty mind was what he needed, but he couldn't seem to get there.
One of his legs twitched, and Brandon snapped out of it entirely. It was always the leg! Always! Spoilsport couldn't handle being still for too long and decided to just ruin his attempts to meditate. Ah well, another time perhaps, he wouldn't have been able to hold on anyway, not when Drusilla's hands gently cupped around him and placed him back on the bed. She'd sleep? Now? Here? Wait, that wasn't too safe for him, he'd rather be in the cage -something he'd never expected coming from himself- where he could be sure he wouldn't be crushed by a Sym rolling over in her sleep. Brandon crept to the edge of the bed, having decided not to place his injured self in peril and gauged the distance to the floor. Could he handle that? Probably. He didn't even have to jump down, he could just climb down by hooking his claws into the bedsheets. And thus the Kelvic clambered to the floor.