((Written while listening to this for inspiration! Have a listen while reading, if you like!))
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Even if it meant…dancing.
The power of the fifth rushed through him. Fromhis throat it spread, down to his chest, arms, belly, legs and feet. The power was -- different. It wasn't the raw rush of aether meant to be fired through his fists in any direction he pleased. It was a careful circulation to be honed and properly distributed in the right spots, at the right time. Punching, kicking and other actions of excessive blunt force would yield nothing.
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Berrod Armstrong stood next to the crackling fire near the Sil'Dih ruins in Central Thanalan, surrounded by the blackness of an inky desert night. His hair was loose, and fell wildly down his back -- voided from his shoulders due to the shaved sides. All that covered him was a pair of snug, dark shorts -- likely stolen from one of the twins. The firelight splashed him with flickers of orange that highlighted well against the sweat-damped bronze. A slow pulsing swept from under his feet, slightly disturbing the sand beneath him. His eyes were closed, and his face was scarlet for reasons he did not wish to bring to mind. Priority laid upon utilizing the power of the fifth for aught other than the Voice.
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It was Ginny who had given him the idea, and very recently, at one of their occasional nights out. The answer of how to control a circulating flow had been in front of his face the entire time, in the form of that woman.
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Dancing.
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Among many things that the Highlander wished for nigh no one to find out was his talent with dancing. The act of dancing itself bore no shame, but rather the sort of dance he excelled at. It was quite responsible for the flush at his cheeks -- but it was not the time to be embarrassed. He was alone, after all.
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He put one foot forward and let his toes onto the sand. Immediately he felt the energy rush to them -- but the circulating nature of it would only cause him pain if he tried to discharge it; he knew this from experience. He needed to make it flow back up his leg, and provided the motion for it to do so. The rock of his hips was slight, controlled, and almost seductive. It set a tightening in his large thighs and shifted his balance to the other foot. It worked well enough; he felt the rush up his leg and under his groin. Yet, it could not remain there. His waist rotated with the aid of corded obliques, and sent the flow down his other leg.
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The throat recognized the flow and opted t provide more. It was both a blessing and a curse; more power was always good, but the control he required to direct it attained a steeper requirement. A pulse of aether shot down from his neck -- he had to act fast. A repeat of the roll of his hips sent the flow from his leg up to meet it at his waist, and a lascivious rotation of his waist mixed the two. It was rough at first, but with a few more slow, steady rotations combined them into a new, smooth, and powerful flow. The action in itself stirred thoughts that awakened the sacral, which leaked its own power that threatened to destabilize his efforts. The prospect of all that energy discharging in his waist was not at all appealing. From just below his navel the sacral aether poured, already muddying what he had worked to refine.
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Yet, it was all of him. It was all compatible; a solution, not a suspension. All of it could be mixed. Berrod took control and raised his arms above his head. With careful control of his abdomen he performed several bucking, rolling undulations, slow and focused. His feet kept him well balanced, and his thighs served as excellent suspension for the manouevre. Sure enough, it all blended, molding into something potent. Sweat rivered down his frame, gleaming in the firelight as streaks upon his skin. Through every motion, tautening and stretching of his muscles it glimmered, rendering him as a fluid dancer drenched in liquid, glowing heat.
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The energy migrated very quickly up to his arms-- it was an odd sensation; he felt as if a giant was about to tug him from the ground between a pinched finger and thumb. While it was safe to discharge the aether above him, it would be useless to do so. He wanted to use it, not waste it. Berrod found that motions of his arms could not make it flow downward -- it was focused on leaving his palms. Creativity was definitely required. His solution was to arc his arms downwards and plant his palms on his thighs. From there he slid them up his hips, his waist, then to his stomach. When the aether left his palms it simply deposited into his own body, nigh smeared throughout his form, well distributed thanks to the path he made along himself, marked with a disturbance of the sweat that now poured from him. The palms slid up his chest and up to his throat -- and the circle completed.
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He did not feel the outward blast of power -- he only saw the flame slowly disturbed, moving like a lazily flowing curtain of bright orange. The waves in the sand crept, and the little pebbles he had sent flying drifted. like leaves in the wind. Water in the stream nearby slopped like thick syrup. It stoked his curiosity, and he took a step toward it.
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When his foot set down on the dirt, a moment of disorientation took him. Something -- was off. The stream was nowhere to be seen and the gorge's walls were quite too close. It was dark, too -- had the fire gone out?
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No...there were still orange flickers about, and he felt the distant heat on his back. Slowly, he turned around. The stream was behind him, and the fire crackled on the other side of it. The distance was about ten yalms. The energy in him pulsed gently as well, nearly spent for the moment -- he would have to call upon more if he needed. This was the power of the fifth –outside of the Voice. The throat produced wind and sound...and now he had just moved with the grace and speed of both. Two people instantly came to mind -- both already annoyingly too fast for him in their own right; Galliford and Melkire. What would they be capable of with this power? It was frightening to think about.
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Yet, he was full eager to pass it onto them when the time came.Â
Even if it meant…dancing.
![[Image: tumblr_ojgu7zoaag1robwlio1_540.png]](https://68.media.tumblr.com/80be4033cdf57fb6268473ef9ce37db6/tumblr_ojgu7zoaag1robwlio1_540.png)
