The juggernaut ushered Caret into the over-large training facility, the mechanic’s eyes puffy and pink. Caret sniffed and wiped her nose. However, her face was not one of weepy sorrow, but instead one of deep and intense frustration. “I know that she didn’t… do anything,” she said firmly, attempting to talk out her feelings, “it was just the way she didn’t even want to engage with me.”
The bandit patted a rough palm her back, not entirely sure how to best console her. “I mean, yeah, she was being a little bit of a dick, but not everyone is gonna want to talk with you, Caret. It might not even be a secondary thing. She just might have been distracted, or busy or something.”
“She wasn’t though!” the young mechanic retorted. “Whatever,” she spat, “I just hate being treated like I’m a nobody.”
The broad woman’s lip curled down, “Yeah, it sucks.” She took deep breath as if to speak, but only let out a long exhalation. Instead she just patted her on the shoulder again. “Do you wanna take that anger and hit a bag a few times? Punch it out?”
She shook her head. “Nah, I want to build something.” She rubbed her palms together, looking down at them. “Need to get my hands dirty.”
“I dunno kid,” the monolith of a woman said, planting a hand on her hip. “I don’t think this place has anything set up for that kind of thing.”
Caret’s fingers interlaced and her expression somewhat deflated. It was then that Balanlara walked from the back of the room, where she had previously gone unnoticed. Without a word she took up Caret’s hand, looked into her eyes, and smiled. Caret returned the nurturing gaze, a sense of placid wonderment replacing that of frustration. The serene eldar led her away, towards the back of the room, and lowered herself to the floor.
“Sit with me,” she said, the echo of her voice seeming to encapsulate the pair from the rest of the world. Caret complied, kneeling down in front of her. “A Mon’Keigh cannot truly understand what I will attempt to teach you, but it may be helpful nonetheless.” Caret didn’t understand what the strange woman meant, but she remained silent.
“For my people, emotion and obsession are very dangerous. Dangerous in both a personal sense and a literal one.” She closed her eyes, and held hers hands out in front of her body, fingers straight and palms flat. “Our culture proscribes us to follow certain paths, Ai’elethra, to aid us in controlling our emotions. It allows us to segregate ourselves and our lives from dangerous emotions. This was a ritual I learned during my time within the Path of Awakening. Follow along with me.”
Caret solemnly nodded her head, then attempted to mirror her hand position. Balanlara took a deep breath, and held it. “Acknowledge the air around you. Feel it. Know it in its stillness. Sense its currents, and know that even in stillness, there is motion.” She slowly exhaled and paused, only breathing in just enough to speak. “Know that every breath is a choice. You welcome the air into your body only after consenting to its presence. You may deny it at any time.”
Caret took a few slow, calm, cautious breaths, then exhaled. She held it, her lungs empty, her hands wavering in front of her. She pushed her eyes together firmly in concentration, thinking and feeling, and eventually her face turned pink. She gasped suddenly, then took a few more panicked breaths. “But don’t I need air?”
“You need nothing,” Balanlara responded placidly. “You see two fates before you: one where you choose to breath and live, or one where you refuse and die.”
Caret’s eyes opened and her hands fell. “What kind of choice is that?”
“The choice we make in every moment, at every intersection of our lives. You alone can make it.” She inhaled slowly, in a controlled manner. “You decide what shall have power over you. You decide if whether or not pain will command you.”
The lithe woman’s hands flowed through a series of complex movements that Caret could never hope to follow. “In blindness, do not attempt to see. In deafness, to not attempt to hear. Simply feel the air around you. Feel your body in its presence, and feel your body affect it. Know the air, just as you know your own breath.”
Caret closed her eyes again and held her hand out in front of herself. “Move slowly, at first. Until you know the small things that come before the large,” the eldar instructed soothingly. Caret’s hand move back and forth, tiny turbulence creating almost unnoticeable sensation. “Do you feel it?”
“Yes,” the mechanic said softly, “I can feel it.”
“Good.” Balanlara’s eyes opened and she gazed upon the human. “Do you still feel angry?”
Caret paused and thought for a moment before confirming, “No.”
“Then I believe that is enough for now.” Balanlara stood, her red rep dress flowing up with her.
The nameless woman nodded to her subtly. “Thank you.”
The bandit patted a rough palm her back, not entirely sure how to best console her. “I mean, yeah, she was being a little bit of a dick, but not everyone is gonna want to talk with you, Caret. It might not even be a secondary thing. She just might have been distracted, or busy or something.”
“She wasn’t though!” the young mechanic retorted. “Whatever,” she spat, “I just hate being treated like I’m a nobody.”
The broad woman’s lip curled down, “Yeah, it sucks.” She took deep breath as if to speak, but only let out a long exhalation. Instead she just patted her on the shoulder again. “Do you wanna take that anger and hit a bag a few times? Punch it out?”
She shook her head. “Nah, I want to build something.” She rubbed her palms together, looking down at them. “Need to get my hands dirty.”
“I dunno kid,” the monolith of a woman said, planting a hand on her hip. “I don’t think this place has anything set up for that kind of thing.”
Caret’s fingers interlaced and her expression somewhat deflated. It was then that Balanlara walked from the back of the room, where she had previously gone unnoticed. Without a word she took up Caret’s hand, looked into her eyes, and smiled. Caret returned the nurturing gaze, a sense of placid wonderment replacing that of frustration. The serene eldar led her away, towards the back of the room, and lowered herself to the floor.
“Sit with me,” she said, the echo of her voice seeming to encapsulate the pair from the rest of the world. Caret complied, kneeling down in front of her. “A Mon’Keigh cannot truly understand what I will attempt to teach you, but it may be helpful nonetheless.” Caret didn’t understand what the strange woman meant, but she remained silent.
“For my people, emotion and obsession are very dangerous. Dangerous in both a personal sense and a literal one.” She closed her eyes, and held hers hands out in front of her body, fingers straight and palms flat. “Our culture proscribes us to follow certain paths, Ai’elethra, to aid us in controlling our emotions. It allows us to segregate ourselves and our lives from dangerous emotions. This was a ritual I learned during my time within the Path of Awakening. Follow along with me.”
Caret solemnly nodded her head, then attempted to mirror her hand position. Balanlara took a deep breath, and held it. “Acknowledge the air around you. Feel it. Know it in its stillness. Sense its currents, and know that even in stillness, there is motion.” She slowly exhaled and paused, only breathing in just enough to speak. “Know that every breath is a choice. You welcome the air into your body only after consenting to its presence. You may deny it at any time.”
Caret took a few slow, calm, cautious breaths, then exhaled. She held it, her lungs empty, her hands wavering in front of her. She pushed her eyes together firmly in concentration, thinking and feeling, and eventually her face turned pink. She gasped suddenly, then took a few more panicked breaths. “But don’t I need air?”
“You need nothing,” Balanlara responded placidly. “You see two fates before you: one where you choose to breath and live, or one where you refuse and die.”
Caret’s eyes opened and her hands fell. “What kind of choice is that?”
“The choice we make in every moment, at every intersection of our lives. You alone can make it.” She inhaled slowly, in a controlled manner. “You decide what shall have power over you. You decide if whether or not pain will command you.”
The lithe woman’s hands flowed through a series of complex movements that Caret could never hope to follow. “In blindness, do not attempt to see. In deafness, to not attempt to hear. Simply feel the air around you. Feel your body in its presence, and feel your body affect it. Know the air, just as you know your own breath.”
Caret closed her eyes again and held her hand out in front of herself. “Move slowly, at first. Until you know the small things that come before the large,” the eldar instructed soothingly. Caret’s hand move back and forth, tiny turbulence creating almost unnoticeable sensation. “Do you feel it?”
“Yes,” the mechanic said softly, “I can feel it.”
“Good.” Balanlara’s eyes opened and she gazed upon the human. “Do you still feel angry?”
Caret paused and thought for a moment before confirming, “No.”
“Then I believe that is enough for now.” Balanlara stood, her red rep dress flowing up with her.
The nameless woman nodded to her subtly. “Thank you.”