Closed Spiritism 101

[Madeira Dusk]

54th of Summer, 520

Moritz was getting a little too big to have his mother holding his hand anymore, but Madeira liked to do it anyway.

"I'm sorry this is so sudden, Moritz", she smiled down at her son even as she expertly dodged the mid-bell crowed. "I was asked this morning if I wanted to come in tonight to take over a novice spiritism class for an ill teacher. Since you aren't at the Academy or the Shinya's place, I think this is a good opportunity for you to listen in and learn about Spiritism."

Another thunderstorm was brewing over the mountains. The promise of rain hung low and humid over Ziltila's bustling streets, causing Madeira to alternate between throwing her red cloak back over her shoulders and clutching it closer to her throat. Leth and the first scattering of evening stars were completely obscured by the boiling grey clouds, but the low, flat light made Emma's ethereal shroud more visible. She could be seen between the shoulders and elbows of the crowd, dancing ahead in her tattered nightdress and occasionally looking back to make sure the other two were keeping up.

"Are you doing well in your training and studies?" Madeira continued, struck by a sudden pang of curiosity and guilt. Perhaps it was a mark of how inept a mother she was that she didn't keep up with her child's education when she worked in education herself. "What are you learning at the Academy?"

It wasn't too long before they reached the Dusk Tower's lush grounds, though Madeira noted that they were looking marginally less lush since the scorching first half of the season. Students and teachers were milling on the lawns despite the threatening weather. Madeira pulled Moritz along without stopping, explaining as they went: "So, this is the Dusk Tower. It's run by the Dusk family, who are one of the three lineages that founded Lhavit. They teach Auristics and Spiritism here."

Through the front doors, she waved absently to Mirihar, who nodded politely back. They passed another set of doors and ascended a set of stairs to the second floor. The novice classrooms were on the lower levels, which meant...

"Aha, here it is." Madeira rewarded Emma, their capable chaperone, with a smile. The ghost was bouncing on her toes in front of a numbered oak door. On the other side she could hear a babble of conversation. It seemed the students were already there.

Madeira finally let go of Moritz' hand so she could beat out her green skirts. Then motioning the Kelvic to follow she twisted the knob and breezed inside. The classroom was small and airy. Tall windows looked down into the dark plaza below, and leafy plants in every corner gave off the fresh, relaxed feeling of a summer grotto. Twelve chairs faced a great wooden desk, chalkboard and what must be an incredibly expensive collection of books at the front. Each desk was occupied with a student, and each student was staring at the trio.

The students, from just over sixteen with pimply faces and nervous eyes, to just under twenty with deep voices and five-o’clock shadows, shifted in their seats and quieted immediately. Emma, nervous at the attention, faded into a indistinct haze and ducked behind a potted plant. Madeira took her accustomed place at the head of the room and introduced them.

“Good evening, and welcome to your Spiritism class. I’m Ms Craven, and I’ll be your instructor. Emma will be our ghostly helper. And this is Moritz. He'll be joining you today.”

Now every eye was turned to the boy, who didn't look old enough to be out of Alluvion, much less in a Tower. Unveiled teenage judgment shot from every direction, taking in the wild pastel hair and weird eyes.

x

[Moritz Craven]

54 Summer 520

Every time Moritz saw his mother she seemed smaller. Or, in truth, he was noticeably bigger. Growing like a weed, in his human form he looked close to nine years old. In truth he would be six seasons old at the end of summer.

But then being a kelvic he grew faster, and due to this had to learn faster. Every so often he pondered what he would have been like had he been human, more out of curiosity than anything else. But he quickly turned back to the fact of things, and was happy with who he was. He was himself,and could not imagine being anything else in anything more than a passing momentary thought.

Being dragged along by his mother who refused to release his hand, Moritz simply examined his surroundings as he walked.

He noticed his clothing was starting to grow a bit tight, a bit short, yet again. It seemed a constant fight to keep him in well fitting clothes. As soon as he got a new set he had grown again and shortly they did not fit.

He was still somewhat lean and gangling, but slowly thickening out. Most of the issue with his clothing was due to his height which seemed to increase faster than any other aspect of him.

For a moment he considered responding to her comment on the lesson, but after considering further realized it was not a question. No, as usual with his mother it was a statement. An expectation of how things were. Which was fine enough, until he disagreed with that statement. Sometimes he agreed, sometimes he was indifferent and did not care enough to go against her. But if he disagreed then a clashing of wills and heads was inevitable.

So far today that had not occurred, but that did not mean it would not.

"Mmm...."

More a confirmation that he had heard her than anything else, the pair carried on to their destination.

Before them was one of Madeiras ghosts, not her friends as she said to him before... But when the ghost was around, she seemed to change her tune. So which was the truth? Was she lying to him? To the ghost? Were both a lie? Both partly true an untrue? He was unsure as he was in regard to many things his mother said.

When she continued speaking and did ask a question he was a bit surprised. Not in the open mouth wide eyed surprise, but still something he had not been expecting. But then she was paying for his lessons.

"I'm learning. You'd need to ask my teachers on if I'm doing well or not. I haven't broken anything yet, or lost any fingers. I suppose that's a positive sign for the combat training. With my other classes... I keep getting put into new ones, so I don't really know much of anyone. Usually I'm with a new group each season or so."

Realizing that this last statement was a bit vague Moritz continued regarding his studies.

"The other kids, they take too long with stuff. I do group work, but the rest... Its slow. So they keep putting me on to the next class. With older kids. Is that a kelvic thing? I know I grow faster than others, but does that apply to other stuff to?"

Realizing his mother had also asked for something he was learning, Moritz considered before giving an example.

"Earlier this season, we had a group project where we designed a holiday. I had to present it for my group."

He was unsure if his mother was listening or not, often she seemed to ask questions without really caring about the answer or listening to it.

When they finally arrived at the building he realized it was not a normal building. No, it was a tower. A big, tall, building. He had passed it before at a distance, but did not recall coming up to the building itself.

"I know Spritism, its what you do. But what is Auristics? Mmm... I think Octarus mentioned something about it when we met that night earlier this season. But I don't think he knew what it was."

Seeing as he did not meet or talk to his mother overly much with her schedule and his own, he had not had time to bring up his meeting with the Ethaefal prior. And Moritz being Moritz, he hadn't felt the need to volunteer the information. He hadn't hidden it, but it didn't occur to him to go out of his way to mention it to her. So often he seemed to inform her of something by bringing it up in an offhand manner when it came to his mind.

Of course it was also possible Octarus himself had told Madeira if he'd seen her. Or the Shinya who he had run into that night.

Shortly they were inside the building, up the stairs and to the next level. Moritz did not have much time to look around as Madeira knew where she was going and seemed focused on getting them there.

Inside the room there were a number of students. Is was a smaller room than he had been expecting, with the windows open so it at least was not too stuffy inside. Each chair within the room was filled with a bottom, a student peering forward silently at Madeira their instructor. That did leave Moritz wondering where he was to sit, and what exactly his mother had planned for tonight in this class.

When he noticed one of the older boys sitting near the front of the class was staring at Moritz he turned and met his gaze. With an open eyed glare he let his stare peer into him, not blinking. This lasted for several moments without much happening.

Whether it was the stare, the oddness of Moritz eyes appearance, or his demeanor, the student shortly looked away and focused back on the front of the class. Other eyes however continued to stare, and Moritz could not stare them all down at the same time.

Focusing on the most pressing matter, Moritz turned to his mother.

"Where should I sit? Or am I standing?"

[Madeira Dusk]

Madeira listened as Moritz explained his schooling. His offhand comment about not knowing anybody worried her. Did that mean he wasn't making friends? Was that a bad thing? She was never encouraged to make friends as a child, but looking back she wondered if that was healthy.

Otherwise his metric of success seemed to boil down to how many things had been broken and how many fingers lost, which made her smile. His question however stumped her. She honestly didn't know what the cognitive abilities of Kelvics were. Moritz' father certainly didn't behave like the four-year-old he was, but then again Allister was mad. It was hardly a sound comparison.

"You mean does your mind grow as fast as your body? I'm not sure", she admitted. "Though if you're not having trouble keeping up then you must be learning faster than the rest."

At his age any other race would still be in diapers. Perhaps this was an animal trait, you had to learn fast or die. The morbid thought of his short life span flashed in her head and she almost missed what he said next.

"Sorry, a holiday?" she smiled. "That's an interesting project. You'll have to tell me about it later, maybe it can be something our household celebrates."

His offhanded mention of Octarus threw her for a moment. She had no idea the two knew each other. Now that the boy was walking himself to school and training and allowed more freedom about the city it wasn't impossible for him to have bumped into the Eth, but what were the chances? And why were they meeting at night? And why the hai were they talking about magic? She would be having words with Octarus later, she promised herself darkly.

"Well, Auristics is a magic discipline where you learn to see auras and interpret them. Auras are these coronas of energy that djed give off, and they can tell you a lot about a person or an object. Djed itself is this energy that makes up the universe and everything we are. It is our thoughts and our substance and exists in everyone and everything."

Once they were in the classroom she allowed the class to gape at them for a tick before snapping her fingers and calling their attention solely to her. "Focus up everyone, class is starting. Sit at my desk, Moritz", she waved the boy in behind her.

"Now", she addressed the class at large, switching to a voice that was all annunciation and projection. "I've been told you have a handle on what Spiritism is, correct?" She waited for a chorus of mumbled yeses before continuing. "Good. Today will be your first practical lesson. We are going to learn about soulmist; what it is, how we make it, and what we do with it. Who can answer the first question?"

A brave hand was raised in the back row. "Yes?", Madeira smiled encouragingly.

The girl, young and nervous, stood to speak. "Soulmist is what ghosts are made out of. It replaces the body."

"Correct, thank you. When the body dies the soul can still exist by replacing the physical body with their astral body, the process of which essentially turns the soul into a ghost, and therefore soulmist." Sliding behind the teacher's desk, Madeira leaned down to open one of the bottom drawers. Finding when she needed, she surfaced with a jar of what looked like crackers and a bowl of tacks and put them down on the top of the desk. "Who can answer the second question, how do we make soulmist?"

At this she looked behind her, expecting Moritz' hand to be raised, and willing to call on him if it was. She had never taught him explicitly on how to make it, but he must have seen it enough times to at least know the steps.

x

[Moritz Craven]

Moritz was a bit disapointed to yet again learn his own mothers lack of knowledge. She, he assumed, knew a lot about certain things. But that seemed to almost never include the things he was asking about.

Still, it made sense to him, that he was developing mentally as well as physically faster. Or maybe he was just unusually smart, even for another in a comparable position. Of course, he was an Okomo, and they were much wiser and more intelligent than most of the other animal forms of kelvic he had met. So maybe that was also a factor?

It would be simpler if anyone knew of another Okomo kelvic and their upbringing, but he had not heard of such yet.

"Or maybe I'm just smart. Or maybe its because I'm an Okomo kelvic. Okomo are smarter than other animals I've met. Not that I've met many... Maybe the animal side, the base animal, also affects a Kelvic."

Moritz grimly smiled at his mother, at her offhand comment. He had a feeling she would not like his holiday, or at least celebrating it. Not considering what it was about. Basically being anathema to her seeming everyday life.

Turning to something his mother seemed to know more about, he found she did have a better understanding of magic, or one magic, than she did kelvic. Having recently had souls explained to him in a temple during a confusing exchange, he also better understood her words. That and her prior attempt at explaining magic in which she said souls, which confused him as soles.

Auristics was a magic involving the energy about a person, which let you learn information... Both people and things gave them off... From context corona meant... Something off or around? Like smoke off a fire? Auras came from djed, which makes up everything... Which would explain why not only people with souls had them, if it came from the djed itself. Everything was made up of stuff, and that stuff gave off an aura, but not everything was made of the same stuff or as much and not everything had a soul.

Almost by habit at this point, Moritz began picking away at his mothers words. Considering, thinking, rewording, reordering, and looking at it from several directions. Trying to understand the magic she was explaining.

Although, how could djed be thought? Thought happened in your head, and was something physical? Or... That was an odd.... Thought.

Once they were inside Moritz mother quickly took order and began giving instructions. Quieting the class and getting them on task.

Following her instruction to him Moritz headed around to sit at the teachers desk.

At her mentioning of soulmist Motitz thought back to home, and seeing his mother make it for the ghosts. Feeding time. Making food and also making soulmist... He could not recall the specifics, had not been paying that much attention or had been too young at the time... But one thing did clearly hold a spot in his mind. In his memory of his mother making soulmist.

Visible perhaps for its oddness, poking out among other thoughts.

Ghosts were made of soulmist, a soulless body... And in place of that body, or their... Astral body? That, whatever it was, turned into soulmist. In place of the body? Which was, he guessed, how they interacted with the world. Picked things up, and did stuff.

At her second query, Moritz noted his mother looking at him. He had been pondering over what had been said, pulling it apart and reordering it for storage, when he was distracted by her query. How was soulmist made? Like several other students, Moritz raised his hand.

His mind flashed back to his memories, sorted and collated... Soulmist. One facet, quite clear. Seeing his hand raised his mother called on him, and he spoke his memory.

"Blood. You need blood to make soulmist."

[Madeira Dusk]

"Very good, Moritz", Madeira nodded, pleased, before turning back to address the whole class. "Blood is an essential component. You could even argue that it is the most important component. At your level you will want to use your own blood as much as you can, though any blood can be used in a pinch."

Taking the bowl of tacks and the jar of crackers in each hand, she approached the first desk of the farthest row.

"Take one wafer and a tack apiece, please. There you go."

She moved slowly down one row and back up the other, making sure each student had a wafer and a tack apiece.

"Nobody is quite sure why using your own blood makes a purer product. As you gain more experience however you will be able not only to produce desirable soulmist out of another's blood, but be able to embude that soulmist with the skills and abilities of the blood's source. But I'm getting ahead of myself."

Once she was finished handing out the supplies to everyone in the class she returned to the front, where she put a cracker and tack down in front of Moritz. Then she pushed down her glove to her wrist and rolled up her sleeve to her elbow, exposing the rough, thatched forearm of a serial bloodletter.

"The other ingredients of soulmist are flexible. You need at least three ingredients from three different sources; the most widely used are egg, cheese and flour. I encourage you to experiment with the recipe to find what best suits you. In the meantime your teacher left us these", she held her own cracker up between two gloved fingers. "The necessary ingredients in a conveniently baked form."

"Now, let's try combining these ingredients ourselves. Pick up your tacks and draw your blood. Never cut up your fingers or palms to extract blood. Not only is the skin very thick, it's also extremely sensitive and will take a long time to heal. Anyway, use your tack on the back of your hand, your wrist, cheek, ankle, wherever your skin is thinnest and runs hottest. You'll want to be careful not to cut too deep with blades, but you cannot do much damage with a tack, so go for it."

Tracing the underside of her arm, Madeira found the blue-green vein under her pale skin and pricked it efficiently with her tack. Almost immediately a ruby red drop of blood welled from the wound, and turning over her hand she dropped it onto the wafer. The dry cracker sucked up the liquid greedily, a dark, soggy depression forming in the center while its outward edge crawled with little lines like it was building its own network of bloody veins.

Once she had witnessed the majority of the class successfully drip blood onto their wafers, she moved on.

"I'll demonstrate the process, then it'll be your turn. First, place the wafer in your mouth and chew." She placed the wafer on her tongue and chewed emphatically. "If you feel you're about to vomit", she spoke around the food in her mouth and from behind a polite hand, "just grit your teeth and power through. The taste of blood is something you'll become very familiar with."

Madeira swallowed to give herself room to speak. Spiritism was not a flashy or spectacular discipline. She wouldn't be able to show them what was happening in her body for them to understand, she would have to narrate it.

"You need to focus on what you are trying to do. You'll make your soulmist by killing and harvesting a piece of your own soul... Don't look so shocked, it grows back. Once the dough inside you, you must believe with every fiber of your being that the dough is a part of you. Focus, turn your soul inward and let it soak into it. Then, once it is every bit a part of you as your own body, sever it. Your soulmist, just like a ghost's, is the outer edges of a soul without a vessel. You'll know you're done by this ghostly chill you'll feel from your body, and then..."

What happened next was both anticlimactic and nauseating. Leaning over the teacher's desk, Madeira made a noise like a dog about to be sick. Her throat undulated beneath its high collar, and with a wet hack a startling amount of soulmist poured from her mouth.

It was off white and faintly luminescent, an unnatural marriage of gas, solid liquid that was all and neither all at once.

Standing straight again, the lady dabbed the corner of her mouth with her glove. Suddenly the room became a little bit colder, as from beside the potted plant by the door Emma slowly became visible again. She was still shyly tucked away in the foliage, but her eyes were focused hungrily on Madeira.

Ignoring her, Madeira cleared her throat.

"This is soulmist. With it you can either dress a ghost in your own soulmist to repair or strengthen theirs, or else imbued it into weapons, tools or armor to attack or repel them... It is truly your most powerful spell. And your only spell, but we will discuss that later. Right now I want you to try to produce it yourself. Take your time- this is not a difficult magic to learn but I do not expect everyone to be successful on the first day. Flag me if you have a question."

There was a low, general clatter as the class settled in to attempt the magic themselves. Madeira looked to the corner and finally motioned Emma forward, then took a step back behind the desk as the little ghost leapt for the spilt soulmist.

Madeira looked down on Moritz, discreetly brushing his pastel hair back with her fingers.

"Are you ready to try? Remember what I said: focus on what you are trying to do."

x

[Moritz Craven]

Moritz pondered once more over his mothers words.

Blood. Blood was the key, the most important thing that made it all work... Blood was... A thing he had, and other things had. But why was his blood, according to his mother, better for this use? He did not doubt her words, but he did feel there was more to it than that. A reason for his blood being more effective. And other living things blood being less.

Using blood though to carry along the skill of the wielder. That did seem interesting. So if he was skilled in fighting, and he gave his blood infused soulmist to a ghost... Then when they possessed someone, they'd be able to fight as well. Interesting. Possibilities. Things. Thoughts.

Or a skill he lacked, but blood willingly given by another with that ability, could then allow a ghost to use that ability...

Pure. The word struck him. Pure, clean and refined. Not made impure such as by adding things in. It was a purer process to work with ones own blood. Perhaps it was as simple as that? His mother spoke of djed in oneself. Surely ones own blood would be of a djed more familiar to oneself, and thus more pure in terms of using djed to make it into soulmist? Pure... It made a logical sense.

Clearly though this was all far off, thoughts on the deep end of the pool when one had not even stepped into the shallows.

Once it was his turn Moritz accepted his tack and cracker, wondering what was in it. Surely his mother would not try to trick him into eating something he did not in such a setting?

He trusted her... But in some manners, he did not. She had an idea of what was good for him, and it sometimes interfered with what was right or honest or true.

Blood, plus three ingredients. Recipes, like cooking, but in making soulmist.

Three ingredients from three different sources. Why was that? Surely there was a reason for that as well. And was it at least three, or exactly three? He assumed at least three, but could not think why more would not work. Purity? Confusion? He was unsure.

Picking up his tack Moritz followed his mothers instructions, taking in a deep breath before lightly stabbing into his flesh on the back of his hand just off the crook between his thumb and forefinger. There was a bit of pain, then as he pulled back the now reddened tack a bead of blood slowly formed. It was a meaty part of his hand, no bone beneath, just a fleshy bit in between.

Holding his hand just so he tilted and let the drop of blood fall onto the cracker as his mother had done. The cracker absorbed the blood and beyond changing hue around the area it had dropped did not seem to discernibly change. But then that made sense, nothing magic about spilling blood in and of itself.

Once his mother was done with her demonstration he followed along with the other students without a word. Surely actions spoke louder, and his commencing would indicate his readiness. He took the bloodied cracker, wiping off on the cracker another drop of blood that had formed before he placed it in his mouth, and took it into his mouth in one bite. He did not like the taste, his face screwing up. The blood tasted harsh, reminding him of biting a fork by accident but a bit different. The cracker was no better, dry and harsh and made of something he did not know.

After chewing for a bit the two flavors mixed together, and he realized the tang of the blood was not as bad as the ill tasting cracker. Somehow it was worse.

Then Moritz did the next step as his mother described it, picturing the gunk in his mouth mixed with his own blood as a part of him. This was less hard to do than for most, as in truth he knew it was a part of him. His blood connected them, having left his body and returned with the cracker. In truth it was a part of him, even if only in part, and so he did not have trouble visualizing this.

No his problem was perhaps being to visual, as he pictured the gunk in his mouth as a literal chunk of himself bitten off. Self cannibalism, if eating meat and things of living animals was wrong then eating of oneself was somehow... Even more wrong. Too vivid a mental picture was his issue.

He focused on the gunk in his mouth, focused on himself. Pictured himself as a pool of water, clear and blue. This gunk was a small red bit in the middle. Like water was want to do he pictured them melding and mixing, the overpowering strength of the larger blue mass soaking into and mixing with the small red patch.

Soon the red was all but gone, mixed into the larger blue while leaving all with the tiniest tinge of red. And yet in doing this he still focused on a small patch of "there" that was the spot where the red patch had been. The gunk he was chewing like cud. It was at once combined with it, and yet separate as he focused on it distinctly from the rest.

And then as his mother had described he mentally focused on severing it. Picturing a knife sweeping down through the liquid and cutting off the bit with a circular swish to separate it once more now that it was remixed.

He focused on the texture and feeling in his mouth, but it felt the same to him. He had chewed it so long it had lost all texture, and so did not feel different. And his mouth was quite hot from the thoughts of blood and eating himself, and so in truth he could not tell if the temperature had changed. Plus he enjoyed running around in winter without much clothing, chill had never really bothered him much. He was an Okomo after all.

Once he felt he was done Moritz opened his mouth, checking to see if anything was visible. Any change or such. He felt he had done as instructed well enough, had done the visualization-perhaps too well- as instructed. But in truth he had no idea if it had worked. He was left to find out as the same time as anyone else looking. Perhaps later, since he couldn't really see if there was a glow coming from within his own mouth.

[Madeira Dusk]

timestamp

Madeira walked between the rows of desks as the students worked, watching their faces fold and contort in concentration.

"Don't hold your breath", she tapped a young man on the shoulder who's face was red and pinched like soulmist was something you could force out like a kidney stone. His held breath was expelled in a wet gust, but the red didn't quite leave his ears.

"Control your thoughts", she addressed the class as a whole, still prowling between the desks. "This is an exercise in meditation and concentration. We're working with the soul, not against."

As she passed the desk of a teenage girl she recognized a thick, throaty noise and out of the corner of her eye saw the girl clamp both hands over her mouth. Without a word Madeira clamped a hand in her collar and the back of her neck and towed her towards an window. Shouldering it open she thrust the girl's head outside and rubbed her soothingly on the back. "Nice deep breaths", she coached as the girl spat and sputtered.

Eventually she made the rounds through the whole class, correcting where she could and giving advice when asked. But in the end this was an very internal magic. There was very little she could do to help.

She circled back to the front desk and to Moritz. The boy's mouth hung open, and inside Madeira could see a hint of a glow.

She picked a waterglass of the desk and held it under his chin. "Spit", she told him. Then she held up the glass to the light streaming in through the windows. There wasn't much, and it moved weakly, but collected in the bottom was unmistakably the glowing, ethereal material of soulmist.

Madeira beamed at her son, unmistakably proud. "Congratulations, Moritz! You have made your first soulmist."

He was the first in the class to succeed. Other heads looked up, some impressed by the accomplishment, and some frustrated to be shown up by a child. Madeira held the example of beginners soulmist up for the class to see.

"This is what you're looking for. Now, this soulmist will decay quickly, and it's cannot be used as a weapon or a barrier quite yet, but it is still nourishment for a ghost. There is a lot you can do as soon as you have something a ghost wants." Indeed, Emma eyes were tracking the glass with intense focus as Madeira showed it around. "This is the base of all your power. The only way to make it stronger is to keep practicing, keep making more. Right now it's your bargaining chip, but soon you will be able to put it to all kinds of use. It can change your appearance to a ghost, can be imbued into armor they cant penetrate, or a weapon that can rend the something physical weapons can't even touch. Use every opportunity to experiment with your soulmist, once you can produce it. It'll make you a stronger Spiritist."

Full of renewed determination, the class bent back to their task. Madeira returned the glass to Moritz.

"Are you going to try making more?" she asked her son. "Or do you want to do something with what you have? You can feed it to Emma and see how it affects her, or smear it on yourself to experience how it feels. I can even walk you through how to use it to Lie, though I don't expect it to work quite yet. What do you want to do?"

x

[Moritz Craven]

As Moritz worked by himself, there were various disturbances throughout the room his mother had to deal with. For Moritz own part he did not really care, and was focused on his own work. The others achieving their goal or not did not really affect him. He would do as he would do, working to improve if he failed or not. Even if he was successful he did not doubt it would need improvement, his first rough attempt just that. Particularly when it was also his first rough attempt at doing magic in general.

He was vaguely aware of someone almost passing out, not breathing through their nose. Was that not obvious? If one could not use one, the mouth, they used the other, the nose. Like walking, using each foot in turn as needed.

Another person had grown ill and was getting sick, which had resulted in his mother dragging said person to a window to be sick out of.

It was not that Moritz was a master of meditation, and could block out such distractions. It was simply that he did not care. He did not care what the others were doing, so long as it did not impact him, and so was easily able to focus on his own work.

When he finally attempted to finish his task and check to see if he was done, his mother was not far away. She seemed to react to his open mouth, ordering him to spit out his work. He was unsure if that meant he had failed or succeeded until the moment he spit it out into the glass and was able to see the faint glow from the material.

It was only a little bit, it was weak, barely glowed, was a faint... Ghost... Of his mothers creation. But still it was there, a mark of his success even if only a partial one.

As his mother congratulated him on his success Moritz tried to force a smile, as it seemed that was what would be expected. But he could not quite break the frown on his face.

"That tasted bad. Isn't there something better tasting for that? What do you usually use? And is it only three things, three things exactly, or at least three things and more being allowed?"

Moritz knew he should be proud of his success, and should respond in some manner, but all he could think about was the foul taste in his mouth. He did not like crackers. Once Madeira offered him back the glass with his result, Moritz turned from the taste in his mouth he could not quite get out. He needed to eat something when he left, and probably rinse his mouth out a few times.

At her queries on the soulmist he had made Moritz paused in consideration, mulling it over.

"I guess do something with this bit I have, and then try to make some more. If it won't be good for offense or defense, not much use in trying it for that. So I guess just let Emma take it. I've not really watched a ghost consume soulmist before. Not seen what it looks like. Emma, do you want it?"

Offering the result to the ghost, Moritz held up the glass, offering it to the female ghost. He would watch if she took the offered material, seeing what it looked like and how it worked. Did they suck it up like eating? Did it just sort of get absorbed into them as they moved? Did it matter which part of their body touched it? Or since they were covered in soulmist, was just proximity and contact important?

"What happens if a ghost tries to take soulmist they have not been offered? Does anything happen? Or does it just do nothing?"

Once his questions had been answered and he had seen the ghost react to his soulmist, Mortiz would begin on another attempt at making soulmist. Another cracker, reusing the pin from earlier, poking at the same fresh spot from before to get blood rather than doing it anywhere else. He was unsure if his mother would stay and watch, or move about the class, but either way he would do his best to focus on his task.

A poke of a pin, a bit of pain and blood welling up. Dripping onto the cracker, a few drops squeezed out before he sucked on the part of his hand that had been cut.

Then it was into his mouth with the bloody cracker, chewing once more. He kept chewing until the cracker was a fine paste, no longer distinguishable in terms of texture as a cracker. Only in terms of taste, the odd mix of metallic tasting blood and the dry and salty cracker. Surely there was a better way to do such....

Once more he focused on the mental picture, focusing on the blood within the mix. The bit of himself, in his mind, plucked off and dropped within himself. In his mouth. Any by nature of its mixing with his blood, the entire mass of gunk in his mouth was part of him, part of his being. Mixed into and within him.

In through his nose, and back out, breathing as his mouth worked to chew over and over as he did when he was eating. How else was one to eat without using their mouth? This was not eating, but it required chewing all the same. Like a tough bit of something being chewed.

This time Moritz pictured a tree, a strong sturdy tall tree. Then there formed a knot, a chunk pulled out of the tree and leaving a depression where a knot formed. And then he as the tree took that bit back in, mixing it throughout and within the tree. The bit of the tree, himself, that had been separated was joined back. Mixing and melding into the tree, but concentrated in the knot in the wood. A small hollow within himself. Within his djed.

He kept at this, chewing over and over, imagining the torn off bit of the tree mixing and blending until it was the same as the rest. But he knew where the knot was in the wood, the hollow, and he knew where this other bit had been. That was the bit in his mouth. And then like a woodcutter, he hacked and chopped off the bit within the hollow, separating it once more now that it had blended and mixed into his being.

An axe swinging, cutting, and leaving each part distinct.

Done with this Moritz opened his mouth, trying once more to check and see if he had succeeded. Was this mental image better? Worse? Had he gotten better, worse, or stayed the same? He was unsure, and still was having trouble telling the subtlety of the small change in soulmist from before and after without visible looking at it.

If his mother was not nearby or did not say anything Moritz would spit out his newest attempt into the glass. If this attempt had failed though he would pop it back into his mouth, though with its odd taste and chewed over texture this would not be overly pleasant.

WC: 1,207

[Madeira Dusk]

Madeira was glowing with pride at Moritz' achievement. Not only was it his first magical success, he had beat his own mother's first success by at least four years. But he was a bad liar, and the smile he tried on at her encouragement only grimaced in the corners of his mouth. Ever practical, he didn't linger but plunged ahead.

“You have to use at least three ingredients to make soulmist, but you can add as many beyond that as you like", Madeira took a mental step back from her sentimental pride and slipped back into her teacher voice. "The only necessity is that it must come from at least three different sources and must form a dough-like consistency. I know you don’t like animal products, Moritz, so perhaps you could try something like honey as a binding agent instead of egg. Though the one thing you can’t replace is the blood activation”, she smiled apologetically. “You’ll get used to it, I’m sure. You're doing really well, Moritz. I'm proud of you.”

Moritz decided to offer Emma the glass of soulmist. The little ghost immediately reached across the table and swiped at it with the fingers of her hand. She passed neatly through the glass and absorbed the soulmist with a touch. The physical effect on the girl was slight but unmistakable. Suddenly her shroud was a little more clearly defined in the brightly lit room, her eyes a little brighter. She smiled for Moritz and mumbled a shy “thank you”.

“The soulmist is still technically part of you, so you have a modicum of control over it.” Madeira answered her son’s next question while reaching over to affectionately ruffle Emma's hair. “If you will it to not be a part of her, she can’t absorb it. But”, Madeira raised a finger emphatically to mark her point, “once she has it, it's no longer part of you, it’s a part of her. A lot of compassionate Spiritists have been fooled into giving soulmist to a ghost who then turned and use that given energy to attack them. So be careful with your consent, it can’t be taken back.”

Moritz seemed ready to try again. He began the process with another cracker, and Madeira left him to it. It seemed most of the class had spat out their first attempts, with mixed success. Two more had soulmist cupped in their palms, the glow of it reflected in their excited eyes, a handful had mixed success with half-transformed dough, and the rest were sheepishly cleaning the mess off their desks. Madeira returned to the blackboard and addressed the class.

“If you’re working on your second attempt, keep going. But I want to go over one last thing before we end today’s class. This is your first step into spiritism, so lets map out where you will go from here." Turning to the blackboard she wrote JOURNEY in bold letters across the top. "Once you have mastered one aspect you will build and move up, so lets see what that will look like."

Behind her she heard a wet plop as Moritz spit out his second attempt. This one was not successful, and in the half a tick it took him to realize this he had stuffed the half chewed dough back into his mouth.

"The first steps in your Spiritism journey you have already taken: soulmist production. Then it will be possession. Possession is having another soul take over your body. It is soul trauma, the most intimate form of rape. But through repeated exposure you'll harden to it and your soul will be able to fight against it." she wrote this down in bullet points at the bottom of the board.

"Step two", she scratched another line into the board, "once you've practiced enough you'll begin making better quality soulmist. You'll start using that soulmist to imbued objects and turn them into weapons, armor, and safe zones. You'll be able to imbued yourself to touch a ghost and practice something called the Lie, which is how you essentially disguise yourself as other people."

"The third step" she moved up another like", is building on what you have learned, moving to souldarts and what's called graceful possession. You'll also learn something called evocation; transporting a ghost instantly from anywhere in the world right to you. And", she added with some hesitation, "Dusting, which is a heinous magic, but one you must know."

"Lastly", now she was on her toes to reach the top of the board, "Once you have mastered those techniques, you are yourself a master. The last thing you can be taught is an evocation that reaches beyond the world and can call down beings from the Ukalas, where the gods are." She dropped back to her heels and looked over her shoulder. "Why don't I hear anyone writing this down?"

There was a flurry of activity as the students scrambled to take out notebooks and jot down the key points.

"This is every shining step to mastery. This is the path every one of you are on starting today. Some will take a more wandering path, some will overextend or fall off, some wont make it to the end. But some of you," her eyes flicked to Moritz and away, "will. Now, any questions before I let you go?"

x

[Moritz Craven]

Moritz nodded at his mothers response, her clarification helping to further hone down the words that had been said. But still as his mother and others spoke, he sometimes wondered on how they knew things. Did they know it? Some things were clear. If you lit a fire on something, it burned. But did they truly understand why it happened just because they knew how to do it and said they understood how it worked? Moritz was not so sure.

At the moment his thoughts crept back to his mothers earlier words, saying that soulmist was made... By killing and harvesting part of ones soul. But... What did that mean? Was that correct, how it truly worked? Was that perhaps partly true but not all true? And if it was true how had his mother discovered it? Or had someone else told her that and she now just carried those words forward? If she had worked it out herself then how? And if someone had told her how had they worked it out? Where they trustworthy. He trusted to a degree, but he was not one to accept without question the deeper essence of a fact. Logic said that while not outright lies, many incorrect facts would be floating around and repeated and held as true. Not every fact could have been resolved and gotten the correct answer right away, so surely some things he was told were untrue.

The tricky bit was figuring out which, and why the things were untrue. That along with the motive of the one telling the untruth. He did not think in this case his mother would be lying, that would be malicious seeing as she was acting as a teacher here. But surely even she was able to be misinformed and carry that misinformation forward.

At least three, but possibly more. Three ingredients of different sources. It also had to be mashable, able to turn it into something like a dough. Of course there were surely other substances that could do that which did not require the killing or exploitation of an animal.

Once more Moritz nodded at her compliment, stating she was proud of his achievement, but once more Moritz was deep in thought about what had been said, what they were doing, how Moritz would do it...

He was distracted when Emma the ghost moved to take his soulmist. It was interesting to see as her hand seemed to easily slip through the glass, but moved through the soulmist like it was a solid thing. She only touched it briefly before it was gone, absorbing it and taking it into her being. He did not notice much of a change from the extra soulmist, and was left wondering how much of an impact it had. Perhaps a eye better trained at seeing a ghost and their various states would notice, but Moritz did not notice enough of a change for him to be able to put his finger on it and say that had been caused by his soulmist.

"Your welcome Emma."

Instead he was left to ponder on how much he had left to improve, particularly compared to his mother. He was in no rush, but seeing her skill and comparing it to his own was akin to seeing his master Kyra fight. She was so far ahead of him it was a bit discouraging. Not enough that he would quit, but still discouraging.

From his mothers explanation giving over soulmist was an irrevocable thing, once done it could not be undone. Before it was done the soulmist was still his, Moritz, or the person who made it. Once it was made the maker had control by nature of that connection in its crafting. Which explained how one could will it into other effects, like imbuing into weapons and body parts to allow it to touch a ghost.

Once that willing was directed towards offering it up though it changed, and was able to be absorbed by a ghost.

Her explanation over Madeira returned to her rounds as a teacher, helping and supervising her other students. From a casual look Moritz saw that some had also been successful, though throughout the class that success was to varying degrees. Some more than others, and some not at all.

As Madeira returned to do a bit more lecture Moritz checked to see if the soulmist he had been working on was done. It was not, the chewed over messy and doughy food making an odd mix in his hand, forcing him to scrunch up his face as he popped it back in. He was left to wonder if he could find a food mix that would taste better, or if he truly was resolved to have to continue such nasty tasting things.

He listened as he worked, chewing and focusing on the mental image of the tree as she spoke. He also listened and filed away her words as normal. Considering, comparing, contrasting, and such with each thing that was said against things he already knew, using it to refine his prior knowledge or to replace it in others. Unlike the why of how things worked these seemed more firm when his mother said them, being after all firm techniques and specific uses of soulmist and the like rather than supposition on how things worked.

First one made soulmist. Next one was possessed by a ghost. After that was the next step, several things one could do. Soulmist by then had become stronger, which allowed using it to imbue things. Weapons and armor, but also... A safe zone. From the context Moritz assumed this was a zone a ghost could either not enter, function in, or perhaps that weakened them if they were in. All useful in fighting ghosts he supposed. One could even imbue their own limbs so they could touch a ghost with their body.

There was also lying to a ghost, something called The Lie, which let you pretend to be someone else. Moritz was not sure he liked the sound of that, and was unsure why someone would want to do that. Was there a purpose behind such actions? It seemed to do nothing but trick and fool ghosts, which did not make sense to him. For what purpose was there to do that?

After that one could make souldarts, Moritz was unclear on what that was, but one was also better able to be possessed and could do so in a manner called graceful possession. Evocation let one call a ghost to them from somewhere else in the world, which he supposed could be used to summon a ghostly ally. The hows of many of these techniques were not gone into, just that they could be done. Dusting also did not sound good, and even less information was given on it, and even his mother did not seem to like it. As he did not know what it was he was left to wonder why, but he did not doubt that if even his mother disfavored it then it had to be pretty bad.

Finally was a more powerful form of the earlier mentioned evocation, which let one pull a ghost or ghosts, beings, from the realm of the divine. The Ukulas. As she finished speaking Moritz ran through each step and phase of each step in turn, locking it into his memory by repetition. Each made sense, building upon the earlier in terms of power to get to the next step.

Now that her talking was done Moritz focused on his dough once more, filling his mouth. With sincere conviction he returned to his mental image as he chewed, mulling it over. This time he got more literal, not going for the metaphoric, believing in the truth of his thoughts and images as she knew them to be true.

He pictured the goop that was the dough in his mouth, picturing it as the disparate parts before he began. Blood and a cracker. then he mixed them together, and pictured it going through the process of being chewed and mashed until it looked like the goop he had last spit out. Within that was still his blood, his essence, which made it a part of him. As he chewed he pictured it inside of his mouth, connected to his entire body. The part that was once him was back inside of him, being mashed and turned and processed. He pictured his body overlay-ed by a color, the rainbow mixed hue of his pelt. Then he saw the pale color of the dough in his mouth, and willed his color to move through the dough in waves. The color rippled and waved, mixing and churning to be pulled through the dough in his mouth. Each time he did this he pictured the physical dough becoming a part more of him, gaining more of the color in his mental image, while the actual dough slowly took on more of the color of the soulmist his mother had made.

He kept at this for another chime, slowly shifting the color in opposite ways. Once the color in his mind had shifted to the same as the rest of him, and the color of the physical had become the same off glowing pale hue, he severed them. With a rush of color he willed the two to detach, once more becoming separate and distinct things.

He did not question, did not doubt, and acted with conviction and surety when he once more spit out the dough. Opening his eyes he was not surprised to find that his dough had once more turned to the same off glowing pale hue as before. It had taken two tries, but he had been successful.

It was then that Moritz realized his mother had asked a question, and was waiting to see if anyone had a question. Moritz of course raised his hand, and since he did not see anyone else asking a question he spoke.

"How do you know how much blood you need? Is there a rule, a ratio, or something, to work out how much blood you need per amount of dough to be turned into soulmist?"

"And also you spoke on souls, saying that you make soulmist by killing and harvesting a bit of your soul to make it. But.... Doesn't the food you are using as the base have djed? So what happens to it, and its djed?"

Moritz waited patiently for his mother to answer, assuming she was wrapping up the class and would end it soon from her actions and words.

WC: 1,774