pawnstorm | Yo momma's so fat she has her own orbiting bodies

Entry tags:

Yo momma's so fat she has her own orbiting bodies

Who: Potemkin and anyone
When: 1st of April
Where: Rm Q108, various areas in the Hall of Glory
What: Potemkin gets gravity powers. Oh boy.
Rating: None

After his ill-ending dungeon adventure the doctors had told Potemkin to take some time off and get lots of rest. (Between those two events he had tried to walk it off, and then was practically dragged into the infirmary by a certain someone, but those were the point a and point b.) If Potemkin could somehow be conscious while sleeping, then he would notice that he suddenly feels A LOT better in the middle of the night. The other thing he would notice is that a large fraction of his room is now defying gravity. Objects from lamps to nightstands lift off the ground before stopping and staying in place, like submerged objects hitting air. As soon as he starts waking up and feeling the wrongness of the situation, everything drops. Including himself, destroying his undersized bed once and for all in a crash of breaking wood.

Nothing good has ever come from falling asleep in this place.

2.
With his uncontrollable gravity powers even a trip down the hallway becomes an ordeal. If random objects aren't jumping straight up, then they're racing toward him (and it is always very obviously him). Most of the objects are silly (did anyone drop a nail file? An invoice from the local tavern? A used kick-me sign?), but a few of them are somewhat alarming. Potemkin stands puzzled, holding a metal bust of the Prime Minister which had almost beaned him in the head. He's not going to bother going to the dining hall this morning.

3.
Potemkin spends the rest of the day in the courtyard of the Hall of Glory, legs folded and eyes clamped shut in paradoxically intense meditation. He looks even more statuesque than usual; the only tip off that he isn't actually the picture of calm he appears to be is the vibrating rocks around him. The observant will notice that some of them aren't touching the ground...

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Strolling through the courtyard, a Wukong appears. Still recovering from their dungeon adventure, which had him pretty darn exhausted at the end of it, he decided early on that he needed a few days to 'recover'. And by that, he really meant he was going to eat some non-cafeteria food and maybe find a few nice trees to lie in, just in case.

But why do that when he could approach Potemkin with his eyes closed like that?! Hm... what's the best way to startle him?

RIGHT! With the obvious.

"Hey, you know you're making rocks float, right?"

Got 'em.

Edited (hey uh i am a competent human being) 2016-04-01 23:40 (UTC)

Potemkin opens his eyes in sincere surprise (he really didn't know about the rocks), but there's also something else visible in them. He seems crestfallen to hear that. The rocks fall as soon as he's interrupted, which is probably the best outcome that could have happened.

"I was not aware of that. I still have much further to go."

Wukong's also surprised. The way that Potemkin reacts is... unexpected? This requires more investigation, probably unnecessarily so, but this has made him a curious monkey.

"... until what? Are you going to try to lift boulders next?"

Obviously, he's under the pretense that Potemkin was trying to make them float, not trying to keep them from doing so! Such a cool trick, he thinks, as he decides to take a seat next to the man.

"Or am I not getting something here..."

Wukong's suggestion makes him outright alarmed for a second.

"No! No, not at all. I didn't mean to move anything!"

If it seems like he's treating himself like something dangerous, it's because he is. He's scared of himself. That's simply the nature of Potemkin. Being born with freakish strength had drilled it into him that any use of his power was his responsibility. Being given an ability he can't control is an emergency for him. Everything is going on hold until he has this locked down.

Oh! Now Wukong gets it. With a nod of some basic understanding, he reaches out to give the burly guy a few comforting pats on the back. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that, somehow, Potemkin must be unable to control some sort of freakish, new power? His tail twitches a few times, from left to right, hitting the ground with a few light thuds. It's also not hard for him to give an easy, relaxed smile in order to calm Potemkin. Perhaps if Wukong doesn't look worried, then neither will his friend?

"Have you ever meditated before, Potemkin? I could give you a few pointers, if you'd like. My master used to force me to meditate throughout my training, and I'd like to think I surpassed my old man just a week after he had me do it."

It's a nice day. The sun is clear but not too harsh, and a gentle wind blows delicate ornamental trees of the courtyard. It's the perfect setting to relax.

"Never formally. My training was more regimented." Though he can recall even Master Gabriel not-so-subtly nudging him toward taking breaks. Those suggestions were always rebuffed.

Oh, Wukong certainly trained with schedules in mind, but his break times were also extremely important. 'Balance in all things', an Ionian principle, being exercised in almost everything done while learning from the finest of master swordsman on the island where he learned how to become the monkey he is today...

"Hm. Well, I'm going to let you in on a secret, Temmy." Huh, that nickname feels weird... why doesn't Potemkin have a name that's easy to shorten? "Meditation doesn't have to come from sitting in a courtyard. As long as you're able to clear your mind and find your inner calm, you can do it wherever and however you want."

Standing up, Wukong raises his hands into the air as he decides that this is the perfect time to do a cartwheel. It's such a beautiful day, after all!

He's still not unfrazzled enough to allow himself to get up (though he could probably join in with a mean handstand if he wanted to), but from his sitting position he chews on that bit of insight. Inner calm? What in his life would he describe like that?

"I'm more used to pursuing goals. 'Wherever and however' is a hard concept to wrap my head around," he admits.

This isn't a surprise to Wukong, who does another cartwheel back toward Potemkin and lifts his arms again toward the sky with a mock 'ta-dah!' as he does so. He'd been thinking all the while, wondering if he could put his tutor's words in a way that he could understand. Not that he thought Potemkin wouldn't be able to, but unorthodox phrases and hypotheticals didn't always work for everyone.

(If Potemkin did a handstand, he would probably have a monkey jump onto his feet. Fine art, in the courtyard.)

"You can do it while doing anything. Taking a bath, eating a nutritious breakfast, punching lizard-men... it's all about finding the right amount of focus! Too much or too little, and you'll be unable to keep things from flying all over the place."

And then, he gives the big guy a pat on the back.

"Also... try not to worry about things too much."

And lo: it is in the wake of the great crash that one (1) Hero King, Sion Astal, happens upon his roommate fallen to the ground for a second time. Newly returned from his summons by the Commander, he had simply thought to pay a (perhaps long overdue!) visit to the quarters he shared with Potemkin and Shinn both, his time there fewer and far in between, as of late, due to their Heroes travels and Sion's own tendency to isolate himself.

Still, he is very much here in the present, and Potemkin is very much upon the ground, laying atop a bed which is now no more than a shattered frame and splintered wood.

"You are unharmed?" Shutting the door behind him, Sion walks an elegant path through toppled nightstands and overturned chests, coming to rest at the other man's side. And where he had once before extended a hand in an offer of aid the first time this scenario had come to pass, now he only sinks seamlessly to his knees, at rest near what he imagines might have been the foot of the bed. For all his expression rings of neutrality, in this moment, there is a flash of concern in his lambent eyes. "It looks as though you were at the epicenter of it all."

The it being rather ambiguous, of course, for while Sion had most certainly heard the crash, he hadn't glimpsed it—this, though, isn't to say he doesn't have his sneaking suspicions of course.

Edited (syyyntax) 2016-04-02 02:50 (UTC)

Potemkin just going to lie in the ruins of what used to be his bed for a moment because what the hell just happened. He alternates between staring at the ceiling in shock and giving side glances toward Sion, matching how his mind is currently going off in a dozen different directions at the same time (should he apologize? For something he wasn't even conscious of?)

"Y-y-yes, I'm fine.

Was that really me?"

He is patient, of course, thoroughly forgiving of both the damage done and Potemkin's daze, for neither had truly been the man's own fault. And in the moments it takes for Potemkin to ground himself in full (aha!), Sion surveys the small disaster area, finding himself thankful that their newest roommate hadn't been anywhere near the upheaval.

"Then I am glad," that no injury had been sustained, though... he does place a steadying hand atop Potemkin's leg, feeling that the man might be in need of it. "If there is a different culprit at hand, they have certainly managed a great vanishing act."

And, as it stands, the only other presence in the room is their pigeon of a room nanny which surfaces from beneath one of the overturned nightstands, aflutter and on alert, though unharmed as well.

"But magic was cast here, this I can feel." He pauses, then, eyes falling closed in his focus. "And perhaps you feel a bit different as well, Potemkin. Search for it within yourself."

He barely needs to try, since already he can tell that he's not poisoned anymore. Normally he would chalk that up to some very efficient resting, but given everything else he's going to take Sion's word for it.

Potemkin had come from a world ruled by magic and he was exceptionally UNmagical even there. He's about as magical as dirt or pocket lint or kidney beans. Or was, it seems like it's not going to be his choice. In a far cry from the rejection in the earlier situation, Potemkin accepts the touch as indeed he's quite solemn from this. One of his sources of stability, the reason why he could endure almost any trial he was thrown in, is that he could always trust that he knew himself. Even that is being tested now.

"You're right. I know you're right."

"Yet you worry still." As ever and as always, the Hero King's voice rings with a perfect calm, his tone only subject to change when in battle or so given to teasing. The latter, of course, is unlikely to occur (at least in this moment!), though for another Sion might have pursued the avenue to provide a measure of familiarity and of comfort. But more than anything, he knows Potemkin to be a soldier, and perhaps the only way to grant the man true peace of mind is an exercise. One of will, mind, and magic, for all that Potemkin seems ill at ease with it.

"And rightfully so, for I doubt there is a single soul who would not be unsettled by being the catalyst for magic which they did not know."

His head canting to the side, the long fall of his hair spills over his shoulder as he makes to seek out Potemkin's eyes.

"So I must ask you this: will you join me in an effort to recreate what happened here?"

Potemkin turns to meet their eyes. With such a intensely focused gaze, uncertainty looks plain strange on him. "I will try. I think anyone would have more experience in using magic than me.

There's some complicated history behind it, but the abbreviated version is that where I was raised, magic was not seen as something necessary or wanted. I've never used it before myself." Of course anyone could have figured that out by now but Potemkin feels the need to state it explicitly before it can be acknowledged.

Edited (forgot the end) 2016-04-05 03:55 (UTC)

And acknowledge it, the Hero King does, holding Potemkin's gaze as he nods his head, neither overlooking the uncertainty which is all too apparent in the other man's eyes, nor wholly accepting of it—Sion has faith, as he does in all people and things, in Potemkin's ability to rise up and above any manner of limitation, including those placed upon him by himself.

"Let history be just that." However complicated, a soldier must adapt, a soldier must move forward, and beyond that... A person, a man, Potemkin needs to carve a place in this world for himself. "Shortly after our arrival here, I became acquainted with a man whose homeland was bereft of magic entirely. If such a person could learn to weave spells, then I've no doubt you can come to control this."

The levitation of objects, defying gravity. For there to have been a crash (and oh, how there had been one!), the objects strewn in the area surrounding must have gone up.

"If it is useful to you, the magic of my realm and the magic of this world seem both to be extensions of will. Visualize what you mean to do, imprint it at the back of your mind, and use your mana to see it through."

Without any magic? Potemkin has some surprise at that. Most of those he had talked to were at least familiar with it, though to some it was a rare phenomenon.

But Sion's logic does line up with Potemkin's general train of thought. He always believed that the strongest forces in the world were not anything physical but sheer convictions. And who had more certainty in the strength of his convictions but Potemkin? With renewed confidence he concentrates on the mental image of objects floating. Indeed the magic does come out again, but this time the target is Potemkin himself. The physics of when something with Potemkin's mass suddenly weighs as much as a grape causes him to helplessly spin forward, falling on top of himself. And length times force equals torque. The bang of when his spinning body hits the opposite wall of the room is timed perfectly with the room nanny fluttering in to give its morning message.

"Congratulations, Hero Potemkin! You are hereby summoned to Commander Lisbrand's..."

Sion sees his hand withdrawn from Potemkin in the instant when the man tumbles forward, successful in his attempt to summon the magic which had seen their shared quarters overturned, but less so in his endeavor to wholly control it. Still, there is something rather magnificent (and perhaps even majestic!) about the sight of so very large a man, standing at least two feet and some inches above the Hero King's own height, floating as though he were weightless only to...!

Crash, in the absence of a fulcrum with which to pivot upon. It is quite an impressive bang, truth be told, but one significant of accomplishment—something has been marked here, on this day, and in the event that Potemkin had not heard the message which the room nanny relayed, Sion cares to elaborate,

"It would seem as though you're due for a promotion." And if there is a measure of pride in his voice, it is on Potemkin's own behalf: the man is certainly capable; to manifest a skill which one has no prior experience with on the very first attempt speaks to quite the ferocious will.

"I will see to finding your uniform. In the meantime, you'll want to dispel your magic." He does not ask if Potemkin is all right, out of respect for the man's dignity and faith that his roommate is (for the most part!) well, and without another word, he rises, locating the trunk which had once been at the foot of Potemkin's bed. "Do let me know, if you would like for me to brace your fall."

Yes, Potemkin would call himself alright. There are definitely worse audiences than Sion for this to happen in front of. And in his current position of his back against the wall and his head touching the floor, it looks like his mental image of the room floating came true after all. How nice.

Potemkin takes Sion's offer of help silently at first, taking a few moments to contemplate his lot in life. When he snaps out of it and tries to move again, he's forced to reconsider - Potemkin's legs aren't short at all, but he's preposterously top-heavy, making rebalancing difficult. Normally this would never come up as he didn't take to the air until just this morning.

"Sion, I think I will ask for some help."

"Why am I on the ceiling?"

Dust was having a strange day. He had no idea Potemkin might be responsible, so turning to address the big man -- upside-down -- was purely rhetorical, not an accusation.

Potemkin swears under his breath when he spots Dust up there. Which speaks to how stressed he is. He considers it very very lucky that the only people his power has affected so far are the ones with almost supernaturally good balance.

"I'm sorry, but according to Commander Lisbrand my body's mana manifests through localized gravity."

The next part he says with some resistance.

"And I don't know how to turn it off."

"Relax."

He had compared using magic to tensing a muscle, before -- well, relaxing ought to be the way to stop it, right?

Of course Potemkin would be very familiar with flexing muscles. But this is like a muscle that's invisible, can't be felt, and he has no idea where it is.

"I'm sorry, but can I trust that you'll be able to keep yourself safe again? Even if..." ...I mess up again, is implied.

Dust folded his arms, rather amused with the question.

"After everything we've been through, you have to ask?"

"You have a point," he concedes, for once.

Potemkin is not really sure if there's a method to deliberately relax. He starts by closing his eyes, taking a few deep breaths, and deliberately untensing his muscles. So far nothing is getting dragged toward him, but nothing is falling down, either. After a minute, he slowly cracks an eye open.

"I don't think this is achieving results - "

Potemkin had forgotten about that bust, because it's shooting up to join Dust on the ceiling.

Dust reacted exactly as the warrior he was: in an instant, he drew his sword and parried the bust with a phenomenal clash.

"That -- yeah, that didn't work. Are you sure you're relaxing? It's all still on!"

Potemkin is not sad to see the visage of Terry go. That thing was staring at him.

"I'm relaxing as hard as I can!" Feel free to mock that, Dust.

"I...think the range at which I can affect things is shorter than this hallway. If I get far enough from you, you might be freed."

"I'm more worried about you than myself, right now." Typical Dust, really.

Now, what to do? Obviously Potemkin was not really relaxing on command, so maybe distracting him would help. "Did you have any unusual abilities back where you came from?"

Potemkin is entirely willing to be distracted! He talks while hobbling over to the courtyard entrance - it's harder to panic while maintaining conversation at the same time. "All I've ever had is my strength. I'm stronger than I appear." No really, Potemkin. But to him the way he is in Blanc really does feel like a shadow of his former self.

"I don't think you needed to tell me that," Dust said wryly as he paced along on the ceiling after Potemkin. "You give every sign of being that way."

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Yo momma's so fat she has her own orbiting bodies

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