Glamour with a Slightly Ghoulish and Childish Nature
Posted: Mon Jul 08, 2024 11:40 pm
33 Ymiden, 724
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The sky reflected a perfect image of the ocean: a cerulean blue that made even the most masterful of sailors double take as to where they were headed. Had the sky finally melded with the sea? Had the clouds at long last compromised with the shading of the rest of the sky?
Kotton’s limbs were limp as the rest of his body stole all the muscles he owned into dashing left to right to left again, searching the above for any remnants of what had once been a shadow or a cloud. He had cherished imagining objects from out of the clouds and had done so long lone into his childhood. Sometimes he could see a mushroom, other time he could see a dog, and on one very special occasion when his father had just finished his last round of cold treatment a butterfly with antennae, wings and all filled his entire field of vision. It was fortuitous that he still had some of his imagination left, but since there were no clouds in sight at the moment, he had no use for it. His imagination was but a memory just like a lot of other things that had been stuffed inside his brain.
Kotton bent his head down to his lap where he had a piece of fabric wrapped up into two straight columnar sections. He had just finished a chain, a basic loop pattern, something he had recently tried to follow but found difficulty in. Try as he might, though, he couldn’t seem to master how to finalise the slip stitch. He had looked at several textbooks for guidance, but still seemed unable to fully grasp how to complete such a specific manoeuvre. Needlecraft wasn’t meant to be easy and he knew that, but had wanted it to be enjoyable with minimal difficulties. No one enjoyed partaking in a craft when half the time they crossed paths with frustration. Maybe now was a good time to take a break and move on to something else.
He set his work to the side before continuing where he had left off, which was basically him staring up at the momentous clear sky. There were no signs of storm, no indications of wispy cottony whiteness and no evidence of their being a storm. Oh, how he wished he could be as clear and blank slated as the sky.
He smiled and adjusted his gaze to in front of him. He had been out on his front stoop for some time now just watching, gazing, looking and observing, not quite intent on finding or figuring anything out. He was merely admiring the world for what it was. But after a while, he realised that the sky was still blue, it was still clear, and there were no clouds. People walked past him left and right with nothing to say other than a brief, insincere ‘hello’. Thus, boredom quickly became of him.
The young man raised his arm so his hand was in his field of view. He wiggled his fingers before pointing his index finger. He began to work on his depth in respect to his ability to ‘unroll’. Had he been in Emea dreamwalking, it would have been easy to create a visage, though it would be less three-dimensional and more attached to himself. Astral projections, at least the limit he could confer were much different than magic disciplines in Idalos. Still, he used this knowledge to heighten his sense of understanding.
There was a couple languidly advancing to him. He smirked as he began to unroll his ability so that a specific scent occurred directly in the path of them. They approached without a sense of mind as to what would happen once they reached the very spot Kotton had expended his energy. Once they had, it was a scene that was harmless enough, yet hilarious all the same. The couple waltzed past where he sat on his stoop and immediately scrunched up their nose. The woman brought her sleeve to her nose and the man gagged audibly. He had just unrolled the dimensions of an ostentatious display of what smelled like someone having just passed gas. They hurried on, not once glancing at him with the thoughts as to him being the culprit for having created such a horrid smell.
Kotton busted out in laughter. He threw his head back, his body too, as he fought for a breath that would cease the pain stitching his sides. That had been far too hilarious for him not to do another. So he did. He gathered himself in composure, energy, and everything in between before focusing again on a random spot in front of him. Perhaps there would be more passersby that would fall into his trap. It was all in fun and games; being a prankster made his heart sing without bringing down the hammer of consequence so long as the pranks remained harmless.
In the distance was another party, though not a couple. Kotton could see this by the way they didn't interact physical via hand holding and by the distance they put between themselves as they walked. He closed his eyes and concentrated, letting go of the past humour that dared threaten another grin and onslaught of snickers. He had a visual perception of himself- a blank face, one that had just woken up, one that had recently been regaled listless. He also had a sensory perception of himself- soft, shallow, removed and unattached. Whilst unnecessary for his purposes, he acknowledged these facets before conjuring up the ether it took to further his ability to create a mirage.
As the group of individuals proceeded closer, Kotton willed his spirit to make true of his intentions. He formed to his face the facade of a decaying man who had been left to rest in a cemetery half dead. One of his eyes had popped out of its socket, the other was tainted with squirming maggots. His mouth was open, filled with the likes of cockroaches and small rats. His skin was grey, but only so grey that made it look like he was fading into the spirit realm. He made it so his hair appeared scraggly and white in nature. He dropped his chin so it seemed abnormal in length. And as the group of pedestrians passed, the shrieks and gasps and stares were the only things that gave him pleasure.
He was no ghoul and he certainly wasn’t a masochist. He was not evil in anyway. He was not someone who took pleasure in the fear of others. He wasn’t someone who felt great when others felt poorly. He needed to make that as clear as daylight- as clear as the sky was without clouds. He was just bored and wanted a little fun. And he was surely aware of the difference between prank and terrorism. It was like going to see a play at the local theatre and being frightened by the scenes demonstrated, especially if fear was what the play wished to invoke in its audience.
Still, Kotton couldn’t help but feel defeated. There would always be someone who would complain about the use of his magic. They would say things like, It isn’t meant to mess with people. Or, It’s supposed to help rather not hurt. But who was he hurting? Wasn’t there some festival that condoned the usage of strange and weird faces? Weren’t scares a point of some specific people's lifestyles and livelihood? Did this temporary prank of his leave such a large indentation into the lives as others so as to determinate as an act of ill will?
He wouldn’t think more of it. He didn't want to fall head first down the slippery slope of doubt, not when he was just starting to have some fun. He would go to bed carefree that night if not contemplating the proper techniques and usage of his magic. He had unrolled a nasty scent and had made his face seem absolutely unpleasant, so what else could he do before he threw in the towel and dissolved himself into the clean and velvety-like sheets of his bed?
Sight had been the most needy of senses in regards to the extension of range. That being said, range would be the point of precept given just how challenging it was in relation to illusion. Range was the most common additional expense of any magic user, but that didn’t guarantee the mage user’s acknowledgement of its presence. Kotton, for instance, knew of the subject, but he had also heard its usage was meant for more experienced mages than he. So what did that leave him? Was he overstepping? He sure hoped not. He already had a lot of other negative consequences knocking down his door.
Kotton stood up front his spot on the front porch and walked into his house, making sure the door was shut and locked behind him. He located his trajectory, the very position he would use his magic ability next. Using perspective, though in a time that took longer than he initially desired, he wrapped his ability round and round until it bolstered the dimensions he was determined to magnify. Then, at the conservation of his energy, he forced the physical extension of his kitchen water basin so that it appeared twice its size. Following that minor adjustment, he initiated a manoeuvre that saw how tiny his dining room cabinets were and conjured enough energy so as to also make them appear smaller than their original size.
He didn’t need his kitchen to be so large and he definitely didn’t need his sink to be as great as he had fabricated it to seem, but the act of doing so made his heart quiver with excitement. He was content with what he had. Sometimes the simple notion of having done something, of having the ability to do something was enough to make him smile. He liked knowing he was capable of amazing things and his ability to use Glamour was one of them. Besides, it was practise that he was after, for you could only become better at something if you practised.
A subconscious bout of yawning transcended him as did the spawning of a minor headache near his temples. Once upon a time, he would have neglected those signs, but he knew better than that now. Fatigue was an important thing to address, especially when using magic, so he made sure to address it.
Whether it was a bed with a frame and many comforters, or a couch with only a blanket or two, Kotton was promised a restful sleep. He would easily dream of magic that night as unrolling and perspective and cloak/aura casting pervaded his imagination.
Kotton’s limbs were limp as the rest of his body stole all the muscles he owned into dashing left to right to left again, searching the above for any remnants of what had once been a shadow or a cloud. He had cherished imagining objects from out of the clouds and had done so long lone into his childhood. Sometimes he could see a mushroom, other time he could see a dog, and on one very special occasion when his father had just finished his last round of cold treatment a butterfly with antennae, wings and all filled his entire field of vision. It was fortuitous that he still had some of his imagination left, but since there were no clouds in sight at the moment, he had no use for it. His imagination was but a memory just like a lot of other things that had been stuffed inside his brain.
Kotton bent his head down to his lap where he had a piece of fabric wrapped up into two straight columnar sections. He had just finished a chain, a basic loop pattern, something he had recently tried to follow but found difficulty in. Try as he might, though, he couldn’t seem to master how to finalise the slip stitch. He had looked at several textbooks for guidance, but still seemed unable to fully grasp how to complete such a specific manoeuvre. Needlecraft wasn’t meant to be easy and he knew that, but had wanted it to be enjoyable with minimal difficulties. No one enjoyed partaking in a craft when half the time they crossed paths with frustration. Maybe now was a good time to take a break and move on to something else.
He set his work to the side before continuing where he had left off, which was basically him staring up at the momentous clear sky. There were no signs of storm, no indications of wispy cottony whiteness and no evidence of their being a storm. Oh, how he wished he could be as clear and blank slated as the sky.
He smiled and adjusted his gaze to in front of him. He had been out on his front stoop for some time now just watching, gazing, looking and observing, not quite intent on finding or figuring anything out. He was merely admiring the world for what it was. But after a while, he realised that the sky was still blue, it was still clear, and there were no clouds. People walked past him left and right with nothing to say other than a brief, insincere ‘hello’. Thus, boredom quickly became of him.
The young man raised his arm so his hand was in his field of view. He wiggled his fingers before pointing his index finger. He began to work on his depth in respect to his ability to ‘unroll’. Had he been in Emea dreamwalking, it would have been easy to create a visage, though it would be less three-dimensional and more attached to himself. Astral projections, at least the limit he could confer were much different than magic disciplines in Idalos. Still, he used this knowledge to heighten his sense of understanding.
There was a couple languidly advancing to him. He smirked as he began to unroll his ability so that a specific scent occurred directly in the path of them. They approached without a sense of mind as to what would happen once they reached the very spot Kotton had expended his energy. Once they had, it was a scene that was harmless enough, yet hilarious all the same. The couple waltzed past where he sat on his stoop and immediately scrunched up their nose. The woman brought her sleeve to her nose and the man gagged audibly. He had just unrolled the dimensions of an ostentatious display of what smelled like someone having just passed gas. They hurried on, not once glancing at him with the thoughts as to him being the culprit for having created such a horrid smell.
Kotton busted out in laughter. He threw his head back, his body too, as he fought for a breath that would cease the pain stitching his sides. That had been far too hilarious for him not to do another. So he did. He gathered himself in composure, energy, and everything in between before focusing again on a random spot in front of him. Perhaps there would be more passersby that would fall into his trap. It was all in fun and games; being a prankster made his heart sing without bringing down the hammer of consequence so long as the pranks remained harmless.
In the distance was another party, though not a couple. Kotton could see this by the way they didn't interact physical via hand holding and by the distance they put between themselves as they walked. He closed his eyes and concentrated, letting go of the past humour that dared threaten another grin and onslaught of snickers. He had a visual perception of himself- a blank face, one that had just woken up, one that had recently been regaled listless. He also had a sensory perception of himself- soft, shallow, removed and unattached. Whilst unnecessary for his purposes, he acknowledged these facets before conjuring up the ether it took to further his ability to create a mirage.
As the group of individuals proceeded closer, Kotton willed his spirit to make true of his intentions. He formed to his face the facade of a decaying man who had been left to rest in a cemetery half dead. One of his eyes had popped out of its socket, the other was tainted with squirming maggots. His mouth was open, filled with the likes of cockroaches and small rats. His skin was grey, but only so grey that made it look like he was fading into the spirit realm. He made it so his hair appeared scraggly and white in nature. He dropped his chin so it seemed abnormal in length. And as the group of pedestrians passed, the shrieks and gasps and stares were the only things that gave him pleasure.
He was no ghoul and he certainly wasn’t a masochist. He was not evil in anyway. He was not someone who took pleasure in the fear of others. He wasn’t someone who felt great when others felt poorly. He needed to make that as clear as daylight- as clear as the sky was without clouds. He was just bored and wanted a little fun. And he was surely aware of the difference between prank and terrorism. It was like going to see a play at the local theatre and being frightened by the scenes demonstrated, especially if fear was what the play wished to invoke in its audience.
Still, Kotton couldn’t help but feel defeated. There would always be someone who would complain about the use of his magic. They would say things like, It isn’t meant to mess with people. Or, It’s supposed to help rather not hurt. But who was he hurting? Wasn’t there some festival that condoned the usage of strange and weird faces? Weren’t scares a point of some specific people's lifestyles and livelihood? Did this temporary prank of his leave such a large indentation into the lives as others so as to determinate as an act of ill will?
He wouldn’t think more of it. He didn't want to fall head first down the slippery slope of doubt, not when he was just starting to have some fun. He would go to bed carefree that night if not contemplating the proper techniques and usage of his magic. He had unrolled a nasty scent and had made his face seem absolutely unpleasant, so what else could he do before he threw in the towel and dissolved himself into the clean and velvety-like sheets of his bed?
Sight had been the most needy of senses in regards to the extension of range. That being said, range would be the point of precept given just how challenging it was in relation to illusion. Range was the most common additional expense of any magic user, but that didn’t guarantee the mage user’s acknowledgement of its presence. Kotton, for instance, knew of the subject, but he had also heard its usage was meant for more experienced mages than he. So what did that leave him? Was he overstepping? He sure hoped not. He already had a lot of other negative consequences knocking down his door.
Kotton stood up front his spot on the front porch and walked into his house, making sure the door was shut and locked behind him. He located his trajectory, the very position he would use his magic ability next. Using perspective, though in a time that took longer than he initially desired, he wrapped his ability round and round until it bolstered the dimensions he was determined to magnify. Then, at the conservation of his energy, he forced the physical extension of his kitchen water basin so that it appeared twice its size. Following that minor adjustment, he initiated a manoeuvre that saw how tiny his dining room cabinets were and conjured enough energy so as to also make them appear smaller than their original size.
He didn’t need his kitchen to be so large and he definitely didn’t need his sink to be as great as he had fabricated it to seem, but the act of doing so made his heart quiver with excitement. He was content with what he had. Sometimes the simple notion of having done something, of having the ability to do something was enough to make him smile. He liked knowing he was capable of amazing things and his ability to use Glamour was one of them. Besides, it was practise that he was after, for you could only become better at something if you practised.
A subconscious bout of yawning transcended him as did the spawning of a minor headache near his temples. Once upon a time, he would have neglected those signs, but he knew better than that now. Fatigue was an important thing to address, especially when using magic, so he made sure to address it.
Whether it was a bed with a frame and many comforters, or a couch with only a blanket or two, Kotton was promised a restful sleep. He would easily dream of magic that night as unrolling and perspective and cloak/aura casting pervaded his imagination.