A Grey Day

[kathminchin.livejournal.com]

From Ian Cannon



Rain spattered on the skylights, the gloom from a grey clad sky poured through and left much of the room in shadow. Winding through the patches of light and shadow, a man danced. His bare upper torso slabs of solid muscle, flowing from one movement to the next, his black clad legs keeping pace. The pale wooden floor thudding softly as he leapt, a foot striking at an imaginary foe’s head and then landing gracefully once more. He spins, his hands raised in a claw-like fashion and they lash out almost faster than the eye can follow, grasping and tearing at phantom flesh. He stalks purposely after his prey, his arms whirling as he blocks and counter attacks.

He flows from attack to block to attack once more, his rippling muscles gleaming with sweat, the long practiced forms as familiar as breathing and yet his mind is not on what his body is doing.

Service is Mastery:I am serving my Consillium, my fellow Awakened and am continuing my own small steps on the path of knowledge, but is that enough? When was the last time I was stretched? Challenged?

Existence is War: Without struggle am I just going through the motions?

Adaptability is Strength: When does the familiar become stagnation?

When was the last time I changed my tactics? Tried something new?

Am I hiding behind the others in my Cabal? Are they hiding behind me?

When was the last time we Actually Talked?

Are we so wrapped up in our own personal quests that we are neglecting the Cabal?
If this is so, should the Cabal stay together?

Enlightenment is Honour: I am doubting my place and that of my Cabal, I owe it to the others to talk about this with them before I make any decisions.

He ends up where he started; his body at peace, sweat dripping off him but his mind still whirls. He bows in respect both to his imaginary enemies he has fought today and to the spirit of kwoon. He grabs a towel and wipes his face before heading out for a shower, perhaps the hot water will clear his head, perhaps not.