7th of Summer
Year 514
Tenth bell
Year 514
Tenth bell
Armed with her rucksack and stalwart determination, Edith sets out across Riverfall's notorious beach looking for an appropriate nook with which to practice her magic. Her magic being a private study of hers that she hasn't had the opportunity to indulge in as of late, but that shall all be rectified today.
She dodges summer beachgoers as she tries to find some privacy, looking odd among the women frolicking in swim costumes. As always, she's wearing a high collar despite the moist heat. But she peels off her gloves as she goes, stuffing them in the waistband of her pants and stretching her sweaty hands languorously. Much better, she sighs. The heat doesn’t last long though, and she finds herself appreciating her unusual mode of dress. A light rain is falling by mid morning and heavy, pregnant clouds are rolling closer with dark intent. No matter, the heat will quickly burn away the clouds, she decides dismissively. And it’s not like rain in unwelcome in the summer.
She walks for the better half of a bell before she finds what she's looking for; a secluded, low, and dry beach cave. She pokes her head around the corner cautiously, unwilling to disturb a nest of snarlwings or an angry seal. But once she is certain that her abode in unoccupied she throws her pack in and makes herself at home.
Digging in her worn rucksack, she produces a blanket she nicked from the end of her bed and lays it out neatly on the sandy floor. She then unbuttons her thin shirt and unwraps her chest bindings and stuffs them both her the pack to replace it. Finally, she settles into a cross-legged pose in the center of her blanket, naked from the waist up, and takes a deep, cleansing breath. Her mind slipping easily into that space she uses to manipulate her dijed.
"What shall I do to you?" she asks her hands. Since she has nowhere to study her reflection, she endeavors to keep the manipulation to just her forearms, hands, and abdomen. Holding her hands up to the light thats filtering thorough the mouth of the cave, she studies the shape and texture of her hand; casting her mind through the bones sinew and tissue that holds it all together. Flipping them over, she traces the thin layer of almost opalescent scar tissue on her palm, her eyes following the stiff ridges where the scars fold so she can make a fist.
Then slowly and steadily she raises her dijed through her arms, imbedding it in every fiber of her hands. She cant see it outwardly, but she can feel the whole structure of her hands relax, and the limits of her body rewritten. It's a heady feeling. A false sense of invulnerability and limitlessness. But it something Edith has already marshaled since earlier in her studies, and she easily represses it.
And then, carefully, she starts to experiment with the fine workings of her hands. By pulling back flesh, kneading bone, and cracking nail she starts to make something new. So involve is she in her magic, the she doesn't hear the beginning patters and angry waves heralding a much heavier storm.