Practice

Cole sat hunched over on a rounded black rock, head in his hands and elbows on his knees. He was staring down at the sand while the midday sun warmed his back. He'd been enjoying his time free of his confining wheelchair, making full use of his legs. But he'd been making use a large portion of the afternoon, and felt ready to collapse. But his mind was filled to the brim with boundless energy.

The sand in front of him began to shift, a line tracing in its surface like an invisible knife. He started to draw a scene, an oak tree, a well beneath it. As he drew, his mind wandered, growing lethargic. A moment later he came to, looking down at the image his field had formed in his mind's wanderings.

The tree seemed dead, withering and hunched over the well. A splatter of sand appeared to be a hand reaching from the well.

Sighing, he swiped the image with his foot, standing. He needed to burn some energy. Nonphysically. Walking to the water's edge, he dipped his foot in. A shiver ran up his spine at the cold water, not quite recovered from the winter.

Grinning, His eyes darkened to a deep, dirty gold as he concentrated. The water seemed to recede from him, to pull away. But the sand pressed down, everything pushed away from him. Expanding his field, he made a bubble around himself, invisible save for where it touched the water. Walking out further, he remained dry as his air-filled bubble enclosed him.

Walking over the sandy floor of the lake shore, he stood around waist-height, the water around him pushed away by his forcefield.

Cole's interest was fading, figuring out ways to shape a tendril for different uses, making it a drill. He stretched it into the sand as deep as he could, reaching almost three meters before he realized his field around him was shrinking. The half-sphere of air imprinted in the water collapsed as he gave the tendril one last push.

Water flooded around Cole, soaking his black surf shorts and gray-blue shirt. He hadn't realized just how deep he'd been until the water closed above his head, forcing him to swim up a couple feet to catch a breath of air.

The irishman cursed as he swam back to shore, noticing someone running around the water. She stopped and was looking in his direction. Figuring she'd already seen his power, he sent out a paper-thin invisible wall from him to the shore, splitting it in two to part the water. Cole splashed through wet sand, trudging out of the water as it closed behind him.

Shaking his head, his hair whipped around his face and threw a spray of water.

Grinning at the girl, he walked up to her and tipped an imaginary hat.

“Hello, there. Having fun?” he winked a dark gold eye at her. The color in both eyes, which grew darker the more he used his power, were lightening now to a deep honey color.

“Drown?” He laughed, wheezing at the start. “Not without a fight.” He smiled at her. “Jogging can be fun if you just got back use of your legs.” He ran a hand through the wet mop of hair, admiring her appearance. Even for a runner, she managed to pull it off.

“Sorry, I don't pay much attention to much of anything. Been hidden away a good while.” He commented, eyes making a once-over of her oddly sharp features. Her ears seemed a bit pointed, many of her features very cat-like. His smile grew just a bit more during his observations. Realizing she was most likely still watching him, he darkened a little.

“Cole Solman. Lovely to meet you, Beatrice.” He bowed a bit, offering to take her hand.

Cole took up her hand, bowing his head and kissing the back softly. Letting it slide, he grinned at her, standing back up. “I really don't try to communicate much. I like the seclusion. I didn't leave on very good terms with anyone.” He smiled, muscles in his jaw tightening as a memory of his departure. His parents were not present, having sent him away on his own. There was no argument, just a cold, emotionless statement of sending him to the academy.

Cole counted to three and relaxed himself, flexing and rippling his fingers. “Want me to run with you?” He asked with a friendly grin. “Or, on second thought, was that question of my swimming alone an offer? You look like you could do with some cooling off.” He chuckled.

In his head ran a trail of thoughts about her, observations. As if made by a picky mother. It went over how she seemed too pretty to be good, very obnoxious, snobbish, uptight, full of herself. On and on it went, finding more and more things to use to attempt building a wall between Cole and Beatrice. He allowed the mental wall to build.

He wanted to see just how terrible the girl seemed on the outside, how repulsive it could get.

Then he would break through it to see who she really was.

The boy was a firm believer that your true person is who you are when you're by yourself. He knew this well, he acted happy and cheerful enough, but he was always at war with himself, angry at himself for what he'd done in the past. Nobody he'd met yet had tried to see who he was, to get inside his head non-forcefully. Shrinks, maybe, but their only interest was solving the problem so they could get their bundle of money.

“Do you want to swim with me?” He asked cheerily.

The corner of his mouth jerked up in a crooked grin at her comment. “Only with women.” He put on a disappointed look as she declined, not liking swimming. Smiling, he shrugged once and walked to her, side, taking a seat on a rock next to her.

“I'm fine with just sitting. Sounds awfully boring, though.” he lifted a fist-sized rock. Most of his excess energy was burned off in his experiment, but it was beginning to well up again. Perhaps something a little more delicate this time. The rock was quite smooth, worn down by the water.

Pulling a piece of chalk, likely stolen from his teacher, from his pocket, he pressed it to his shirt and spun it, pulling away the wet chalk. Carefully, he traced a design on the rock, enjoying how it glided over the black surface easily. Soon enough an intricate web of Celtic whorls and interweaving strips was traced out. For a moment, he thought of what was going to be left risen.

Feeling his mind smooth out, he began drawing on his welled up power, creating an invisible tendril that sprouted from his hands. He saw the end of the tendril change, shaping itself to a curiously sharpened v-shape. Slowly, he began to carve away slices of stone as if it were a block of rubber. The slices fell to the sand, leaving grooves in its place.

As this process continued, he felt it take up a pattern. Sure of his concentration, he looked up at Beatrice and smiled. “So why are you here?”