Creation 1.3

I had a lot to process, and a decent bit of time to myself to go over it all. First, to reaffirm my midair epiphany; I was not suicidal. I was not going to be suicidal. I would not try that, or anything like it, ever again.

Even though I felt somewhat hollow, and certainly thought differently from my fellow-aged classmates, I had forgotten the good times. The playing with my family; the unconditional love of a pet; the worlds in the pages of a book. I would have regretted every second I had given up if there was indeed a next life, and would have taken something from those who loved me that I had no reason to take. No, I would never wish to die needlessly, and would no longer value my life (or others') so lowly.

Secondly; I had powers. I was a cape. I needed to know what my powers were, and how to use them. Much of this would wait until later, but I was definitely going to try the dreams again. I could feel them, now that I focused on the idea; like an endless book of treasures, each a shimmering jewel just out of sight. I couldn't count them, and I felt that the more I looked, the less here I would be.

The hum of the air was still there, and the orange juice I was drinking was faint, but present in my mind. I could sort of tune out the music, and ignore the jewels, but only a little; luckily, they weren't too distracting, not any more than anything else was; heck, they might give me something to fiddle with, help curb my ADD. Regardless, I would wait until tonight to try anything at all.

Next, there was the Wards. I tried to remember what I could about them; there were 6 or 7 of them in the Bay, and it was mostly boys. I remembered Aegis and Kid Win, Triumph, and Clockblocker, and I think that one had something to do with paintings or landscapes or something, but I couldn't remember much about them.

I knew the Protectorate team fairly well; they came by our school for an assembly once. Armsmaster was in charge there, and he seemed like the kind of adult I could maybe chat with; a straight to the point, no nonsense person, gruff but apparently fair. As for the PRT, they weren't very public. I had no idea who the Director was, but since the paperwork said the Wards reported to him/her, I figured I'd find out soon enough.

Finishing the last bite of my meatloaf, I wrote a note to thank the cooks for their delicious work (and wishing I could tell them myself), and called a nurse to come get it. I then decided to see what happened if I closed my eyes and tried to 'touch' one of the 'jewels'.

A feeling of choice between pushing it out, and it pulling me in. I let it pull me in, and – disorientation, noticing the pain disappear. I opened my eyes. I was lying in a quaint little meadow, flowers dotting the grass in splashes of color, trees surrounding it, with rivers flowing through the skies above me. Wait, what? I checked, and yes, there were rivers. In the air. Flowing between the flying mountains.

My power was strange. My power…was awesome.

I looked around for a while, taking it all in. The rainbows of light from the winding sky-rivers, the mountains floating lazily like clouds on a calm day. The clouds flowing through them all like a shimmering fog. I finally, regretfully tore myself away from it all, and focused instead on the steady beat of my resonance on the ground beneath my feet. I tried to harmonize, tears burning my eyes as I remembered my voice was gone. Not vocal then. I tried to reach out with my mind, add a beat, but nothing. A pang of sadness; I would've looked so cool like that, regardless of whatever my powers did. Wait, add a beat. I tried to tap my foot, and felt the slightest addition to it, which disappeared soon after. A stomp, and the ground shifted. It felt off-key, though. Like playing the wrong part of the melody for that section of the song.

I danced a little jig. Barely a response.

I tried a conductor pose. I could sort of feel something, but not in the ground.

Maybe a backflip? If so, I was doomed to be powerless.

In desperation, I tried one more thing; a basic form from my single month of Tae-kwon-do, a forward step with a firm stomping finish. I didn't expect much, just thought it might, maybe, do something; I certainly didn't expect a chunk of rock to burst from the grass, fly weakly up a foot or two, then fall back down. Nor did I expect that upon falling back in surprise, flailing my arms, to be cushioned slightly by a freak wind. Or the feeling of two disparate parts of my resonance coming into a simple melody for a moment.

Okay, for some reason, martial arts were my name, and at least two parts of my game might be identified. (Side note, powers were weird. Why martial arts? Would I have to do poses and stuff like a power ranger?) Anyway, I suspected the others were water, and maybe fire or heat, based on the forest fire. It fit; if I remembered right, the classical elements were earth, water, air, and fire, plus ether or aether or something, and sometimes void. Yay for mythology books! I had at least felt all four of those, so it stood to reason that I could move them all. Also, Element for a cape name wasn't bad, but I bet somebody probably had it already. And it didn't get the dream thingy.

Anyway, I needed to find a volcano or something, I had to find water and fire. I really wanted to confirm this stuff.

I reached to the gems again, picking one at random. I did my best to memorize the one I was currently standing in, and let myself be pulled. Disorientation; then I appeared atop a mesa, golden skies overhead. The sky was gold like a sunset, but no true light source was visible; it was as if the sky faintly glowed a pulsing, banded gold from all sides at once, with motes of brighter gold roving here and there across the expanse. The mesa was of bluestone, like the rocks of Stonehenge; indeed, giant monoliths dotted the landscape atop it.

The monoliths were detailed with etchings, carved in strange patterns like some forgotten geometry of power. They were spotted with lichens like pads of sliver ore, glimmering in the golden light, and outlining the carvings upon the great stones. The land below the singular mesa was cracked with riverbeds, and had the occasional ruin of a palace of grand and royal scale, covered in a scarlet ivy, while purple-blue grass stretched between. It was all stained a majestic, faint sepia by the light above.

It was alien. It was wondrous. It made me sad, knowing I would have to leave it behind, to search for water and fire. I could spend years in each of these gems, and I had an endless array of them to choose from. I wished life could pause, that I could live in these for a time, an eternity, and…

No.

That was no better than suicide.

I tore myself away from the view, the anger at myself growing, burning for an outlet. I punched the nearest monolith, and as I did, it dented inward and fire burst back at me, curling out from the impact point. I sank to my knees, torn - between happiness at this discovery, and loss - at the reality that my dreams now felt, not like an inviting and wondrous place, but like they were trying to possess me, to entice me to leave my family. Worse, to leave my body intact, but unresponsive, a stark reminder that I was just out of reach. My dreams were now real, and of terrible, conquering majesty; a harmless allure that could lead to my loss of all I had just realized was so important to me.

Darn it, I needed a therapist. I needed somebody to talk to about this, at least.

I was so frustrated, so sad, so hopeless. I just wanted peace, and instead, I was being thrust into a new world of changes. I couldn't even communicate my problems. Everything was so hard to put into words, and now I couldn't even let go a stream of consciousness by talking. How would I describe the horror of my power's beauty to others? How could I ever explain my real feelings on a subject, when any thought would, by necessity, be delayed for a time before others could hear it? Would a therapist even be able to help? My last ones hadn't, and I could talk to them.

I gave up on power testing for the night; crushing despair took all the fun out of it. I pushed away from the alien landscape, opening my eyes in my bed. I needed the time, and some more water, so I called a nurse. It was 11:18 pm, and as I halfheartedly tested what I could with my good hand, I found that water seemed to respond best to flowing motions, like drawing strings on a harp or stroking a dog. After a while I noticed I didn't feel tired. I was always a late sleeper, but it had to be like 1 in the morning now. Maybe my power compensated for sleep while I was out. Great. I guess that would be something to point out in power testing.

The jewels were still there, feeling like they hovered just out of sight, only now I was no longer happy with their presence. I didn't want the beauty they offered, I wanted to talk, to laugh, and to dream. I would trade it all for that.

Six hours later, I was still lying in bed, still not tired in the slightest, bored out of my mind, and still wishing I could take it back.