Post by Marcelius on Oct 7, 2013 7:07:20 GMT -5
(OoC: This thread is for the training and mastery of Sonido. It is a solo thread, exclusive for Marcelius Despres.)
Crashing upon the sand, a deep sigh bellowed from his chest. Where he landed, a burst of soil now rose into the air. Behind him, on some other isolated dune, a identical cloud now began to settle. The distance between these two disturbances, rather considerable. With a glance over his shoulder, his old eyes inspected just how far he had travelled. His trip had been sloppy, and poor. It did not show upon the landscape, but he had felt it in his movements. His old bones had struggled against the force he exerted. Even after his arrival, he could feel the aching in his joints. It was the cost of his repeated trials. Again and again, he had stepped from on dune to another. Each time, he examined the sensations that accompanied his effort. From the labor of his muscles, to the strain of his soul.
It was his intention, to become more accustomed to this technique, one frequented by so many of his kin. It was Sonido which he practiced. This was the name given to a phenomenon. From what he understood of the basics, it was a momentary, and dramatic enhancement on one's speed. To invigorate the body with spiritual energies, and simply stepping towards a desired location. It sounded so simple, but in truth, it was quite a dramatic accomplishment. Well...doing it correctly, was a dramatic accomplishment. For what Marcelius had observed in his efforts, was a ever growing uncertainty. An uncertainty that existed within his ability to improve upon this technique.
Out alone in the dunes again; he had come to the only place where he could truly focus on the product of his labor. There was great knowledge to be uncovered about every aspect of life, this was a lesson Marc had held in his heart for a great time now. With his unique understanding of the world, he had always been able to see things more clearly than others. Marcelius always had a keen interest in sound. On that often bordered on affection. This may seem strange to those better informed about him, would question this fact. Marc does not often spare the detail, that a majority of his life was spent deaf. How then, could he develop such a bond with sound? Without hearing, how could he find any pleasure in noise? It was his second sight which helped produce his favor. In the world, as he saw it, all sound were marvelous displays of sensation. Tremendous ripples, that splashed in every direction. The vibrations caused by sound, tickled his skin and delighted his nerves. As a Hollow, there were few joys that were ever allowed to develops. Typically, the only thing one of his kind gets to savor is the taste of their victims. It was a sign of his individuality, his separation from all those other hims living within him. The rush that large sounds created, would sometimes border on the euphoric.
It was similar to the feeling of running water caressing the nerves. There would never be any heat or chill, just that pleasing and soothing motion. All of it was within his mind. What this produced of him, was a constant thrill of anticipation. As motion was always bound to happen again, never could it cease altogether, he was always just moments away from pleasure. It often made him feel a bit vulgar, despite the fact there was nothing truly delinquent about it. A nice cover story would always be, a supreme affinity for music....or possibly, a habit made out whistling. What did such aspects of his identity have to contribute to his training? Everything. For training his a means to improve one's self. But how can improvements be made, to a problem that is not fully understood?
A deep breath flushed from his open lips. His eyes lifted from from their weary droop. While his body may appear tired, or worn...his mind was alive, with more vigor than the combined lives of Las Noches. Inside his thoughts, a torrent of debates. The topics? All of them Sonido. Out of all the skills he acquired upon ascension, this one has always puzzled him most. Partly the means by which it is completed and enhanced, but also the instinctual aspect of it. Marcelius had become quite aware, that ever Arrancar can -from the moment of unmasking- can simply use Sonido. It is natural them, so natural...that their newborns can use it with average efficiency. Why was this, what made it such an integral part of the Arrancar existence? It was as a Cero to the Gillian...without reason or explanation, it simply existed. There was nothing to compare it to.
It had no rivals, though a world of imitators. For the Soul Reapers, Hollow's oldest rivals, a special style of training had to be devised in order to duplicate this power. They had to train, hard and endlessly, to forever strive for what the Hollows simply possessed. A sudden smile came to Marc's face as he thought of this. A bit of pride to bolster his mood. Hollows were predators, born superior with every other species desperate to close the gap with them. If anything, this was a weakness. It meant that Hollows, and Arrancar, would always be empowered in their mind. Given their natural superiority, they would not strive for further expanse of their abilities. Instead of learning, examining, and improving...they remain content with allotted advantages. This was not true for all of his kind, but it was still to frequent an issue. So. This was Marcelius' purpose for being outside today. Not simply to practice and refine his instinctual maneuvering, but to expand it.
Progress had been, thus far, arduous. Each time he made a step, it had felt the same. It started with the rise in his reiatsu. The reiatsu's activity, rather. Once he had focused enough of his energy, he pressed off one foot...usually his right, and flung himself to his target. The line was always straight, relatively precise, and stifling. The force of the world around him, Hueco Mundo's dense spiritual atmosphere, seemed to squeeze him as he travelled. Not only did it clearly reduce his potential speed, but it also through of his trajectory by several millimeters. Such errors could prove disastrous at the speed in which he travelled. However, there was cause for some hope. The optimism lay in Marc's recollection of travel.
While moving, even at great speeds, he could maintain focus on the world and it's flow. When any part of his body shifted or suffered from drag, he knew it. When reiatsu dispersed or shifted, he watched it with more care than a detective at a crime scene. A sudden boom, static spreading out all around him. Having stepped once more, this time stepping off of his opposite foot. Such a simple change. Yet his travel changed so greatly. All the pressure and weight, had now shifted to the former's counter. It felt different, but similar...much like a room changes when one relocates the furniture. There was a whole new feel to the motion, to the whole process. It was something to be inspected.
Taking several breathes, the old Hollow was beginning to feel the wear in his muscles. With energy still left to burn, only a small breather would be necessary. This time, before leaping off in one direction or another; Marcelius took time to slow down his procedure. Starting with his reiatsu, which he gathered only to hold prepared. Standing, energy primed and ready to go, he let his body shift weight from one side to the other. With shivering energy bubbling around inside of him, he used it to paint a brighter awareness on his bodies' reactions. All his muscles and tendons were tingling with power and anticipation. Muscle memory...always so honest and untainted. Opening his eyes, Marc looked for a nearby destination. This time would be different however, as he would do more than simply lean and fling himself. Instead, he would press with all his strength and fight against the resistance that awaited him. This time he was not aiming to step. This time, he was planning to carve his way to his location. Like a swimmer, utilizing the shape of their body to carve through water. There was no better place to practice this style of Sonido than that of Hueco Mundo.
So having allowed his gathered reaitsu to slosh about through his body, he prepared to flex his spiritual strength. In a sudden burst, much like the ones before, Marc launched himself. This time, his reaitsu was slicing as he went along. This did not increase his speed, that was not the intention. What it did, was allow him to extend his arms freely in mid flight. Why he want to do this? Well it was much akin to the way birds take flight upon the breeze. Instead of trying to overpower the wind and it's mighty bellows, they simply contort and conform to the incoming pressure...but in ways that suited their needs. This was Marc's objective. To fly amid his steps. Not off into the sky, but instead, to be able to toss and shift his weight and momentum by his design. So yes, he arrived at his location. This time he arrived exactly where he desired. Upon the top of the rise of sand, a small tree of quarts had sprouted.
Marc had wished for his fingers to slide around it's thin trunk, without him having to reach for it after arrival. With the swim completed, the mineral formation rested snugly between his thumb and central fingers. Not only had he hit his mark, but there was no sign of brusing on his skin. Given that he left Hierro inactive during his practices -the clanging of spiritual particles against the stubborn surface was always quite irritating- his flesh would have turned red from impact had he collided with the tree. It had not, for he had stopped short of collision. Both the landing and the deceleration, had been completely controlled. To have succeeded so surely on his first try, baffled him truly. It had to be his instincts, and Sonido's powerful connection to them. Truly remarkable, if only by his easily impressed standards.
This little test of control was but the start. For hours and hours still, he would ply his new method for controlled flight patterns. There would be no stopping, not until it had been mastered. In the future, if he would ever be called to utilize something with as much potential as Sonido...he would wield it with care and tact. For in a fight, speed may often determine the victor. There was no greater expression of speed than this marvelous power. In it's strength and scope, great care had to be placed. It deserved to be respected and maintained. No matter how masterful he became. No matter how much he learned. Sonido would require daily, studious practice and refinement. Marcelius could never stop examining and reexamining it. Someday, his proficiency with such a maneuver, could save or cost another soul's life. On that day, whenever it came, he needed to be prepared....and he would be.
Crashing upon the sand, a deep sigh bellowed from his chest. Where he landed, a burst of soil now rose into the air. Behind him, on some other isolated dune, a identical cloud now began to settle. The distance between these two disturbances, rather considerable. With a glance over his shoulder, his old eyes inspected just how far he had travelled. His trip had been sloppy, and poor. It did not show upon the landscape, but he had felt it in his movements. His old bones had struggled against the force he exerted. Even after his arrival, he could feel the aching in his joints. It was the cost of his repeated trials. Again and again, he had stepped from on dune to another. Each time, he examined the sensations that accompanied his effort. From the labor of his muscles, to the strain of his soul.
It was his intention, to become more accustomed to this technique, one frequented by so many of his kin. It was Sonido which he practiced. This was the name given to a phenomenon. From what he understood of the basics, it was a momentary, and dramatic enhancement on one's speed. To invigorate the body with spiritual energies, and simply stepping towards a desired location. It sounded so simple, but in truth, it was quite a dramatic accomplishment. Well...doing it correctly, was a dramatic accomplishment. For what Marcelius had observed in his efforts, was a ever growing uncertainty. An uncertainty that existed within his ability to improve upon this technique.
Out alone in the dunes again; he had come to the only place where he could truly focus on the product of his labor. There was great knowledge to be uncovered about every aspect of life, this was a lesson Marc had held in his heart for a great time now. With his unique understanding of the world, he had always been able to see things more clearly than others. Marcelius always had a keen interest in sound. On that often bordered on affection. This may seem strange to those better informed about him, would question this fact. Marc does not often spare the detail, that a majority of his life was spent deaf. How then, could he develop such a bond with sound? Without hearing, how could he find any pleasure in noise? It was his second sight which helped produce his favor. In the world, as he saw it, all sound were marvelous displays of sensation. Tremendous ripples, that splashed in every direction. The vibrations caused by sound, tickled his skin and delighted his nerves. As a Hollow, there were few joys that were ever allowed to develops. Typically, the only thing one of his kind gets to savor is the taste of their victims. It was a sign of his individuality, his separation from all those other hims living within him. The rush that large sounds created, would sometimes border on the euphoric.
It was similar to the feeling of running water caressing the nerves. There would never be any heat or chill, just that pleasing and soothing motion. All of it was within his mind. What this produced of him, was a constant thrill of anticipation. As motion was always bound to happen again, never could it cease altogether, he was always just moments away from pleasure. It often made him feel a bit vulgar, despite the fact there was nothing truly delinquent about it. A nice cover story would always be, a supreme affinity for music....or possibly, a habit made out whistling. What did such aspects of his identity have to contribute to his training? Everything. For training his a means to improve one's self. But how can improvements be made, to a problem that is not fully understood?
A deep breath flushed from his open lips. His eyes lifted from from their weary droop. While his body may appear tired, or worn...his mind was alive, with more vigor than the combined lives of Las Noches. Inside his thoughts, a torrent of debates. The topics? All of them Sonido. Out of all the skills he acquired upon ascension, this one has always puzzled him most. Partly the means by which it is completed and enhanced, but also the instinctual aspect of it. Marcelius had become quite aware, that ever Arrancar can -from the moment of unmasking- can simply use Sonido. It is natural them, so natural...that their newborns can use it with average efficiency. Why was this, what made it such an integral part of the Arrancar existence? It was as a Cero to the Gillian...without reason or explanation, it simply existed. There was nothing to compare it to.
It had no rivals, though a world of imitators. For the Soul Reapers, Hollow's oldest rivals, a special style of training had to be devised in order to duplicate this power. They had to train, hard and endlessly, to forever strive for what the Hollows simply possessed. A sudden smile came to Marc's face as he thought of this. A bit of pride to bolster his mood. Hollows were predators, born superior with every other species desperate to close the gap with them. If anything, this was a weakness. It meant that Hollows, and Arrancar, would always be empowered in their mind. Given their natural superiority, they would not strive for further expanse of their abilities. Instead of learning, examining, and improving...they remain content with allotted advantages. This was not true for all of his kind, but it was still to frequent an issue. So. This was Marcelius' purpose for being outside today. Not simply to practice and refine his instinctual maneuvering, but to expand it.
Progress had been, thus far, arduous. Each time he made a step, it had felt the same. It started with the rise in his reiatsu. The reiatsu's activity, rather. Once he had focused enough of his energy, he pressed off one foot...usually his right, and flung himself to his target. The line was always straight, relatively precise, and stifling. The force of the world around him, Hueco Mundo's dense spiritual atmosphere, seemed to squeeze him as he travelled. Not only did it clearly reduce his potential speed, but it also through of his trajectory by several millimeters. Such errors could prove disastrous at the speed in which he travelled. However, there was cause for some hope. The optimism lay in Marc's recollection of travel.
While moving, even at great speeds, he could maintain focus on the world and it's flow. When any part of his body shifted or suffered from drag, he knew it. When reiatsu dispersed or shifted, he watched it with more care than a detective at a crime scene. A sudden boom, static spreading out all around him. Having stepped once more, this time stepping off of his opposite foot. Such a simple change. Yet his travel changed so greatly. All the pressure and weight, had now shifted to the former's counter. It felt different, but similar...much like a room changes when one relocates the furniture. There was a whole new feel to the motion, to the whole process. It was something to be inspected.
Taking several breathes, the old Hollow was beginning to feel the wear in his muscles. With energy still left to burn, only a small breather would be necessary. This time, before leaping off in one direction or another; Marcelius took time to slow down his procedure. Starting with his reiatsu, which he gathered only to hold prepared. Standing, energy primed and ready to go, he let his body shift weight from one side to the other. With shivering energy bubbling around inside of him, he used it to paint a brighter awareness on his bodies' reactions. All his muscles and tendons were tingling with power and anticipation. Muscle memory...always so honest and untainted. Opening his eyes, Marc looked for a nearby destination. This time would be different however, as he would do more than simply lean and fling himself. Instead, he would press with all his strength and fight against the resistance that awaited him. This time he was not aiming to step. This time, he was planning to carve his way to his location. Like a swimmer, utilizing the shape of their body to carve through water. There was no better place to practice this style of Sonido than that of Hueco Mundo.
So having allowed his gathered reaitsu to slosh about through his body, he prepared to flex his spiritual strength. In a sudden burst, much like the ones before, Marc launched himself. This time, his reaitsu was slicing as he went along. This did not increase his speed, that was not the intention. What it did, was allow him to extend his arms freely in mid flight. Why he want to do this? Well it was much akin to the way birds take flight upon the breeze. Instead of trying to overpower the wind and it's mighty bellows, they simply contort and conform to the incoming pressure...but in ways that suited their needs. This was Marc's objective. To fly amid his steps. Not off into the sky, but instead, to be able to toss and shift his weight and momentum by his design. So yes, he arrived at his location. This time he arrived exactly where he desired. Upon the top of the rise of sand, a small tree of quarts had sprouted.
Marc had wished for his fingers to slide around it's thin trunk, without him having to reach for it after arrival. With the swim completed, the mineral formation rested snugly between his thumb and central fingers. Not only had he hit his mark, but there was no sign of brusing on his skin. Given that he left Hierro inactive during his practices -the clanging of spiritual particles against the stubborn surface was always quite irritating- his flesh would have turned red from impact had he collided with the tree. It had not, for he had stopped short of collision. Both the landing and the deceleration, had been completely controlled. To have succeeded so surely on his first try, baffled him truly. It had to be his instincts, and Sonido's powerful connection to them. Truly remarkable, if only by his easily impressed standards.
This little test of control was but the start. For hours and hours still, he would ply his new method for controlled flight patterns. There would be no stopping, not until it had been mastered. In the future, if he would ever be called to utilize something with as much potential as Sonido...he would wield it with care and tact. For in a fight, speed may often determine the victor. There was no greater expression of speed than this marvelous power. In it's strength and scope, great care had to be placed. It deserved to be respected and maintained. No matter how masterful he became. No matter how much he learned. Sonido would require daily, studious practice and refinement. Marcelius could never stop examining and reexamining it. Someday, his proficiency with such a maneuver, could save or cost another soul's life. On that day, whenever it came, he needed to be prepared....and he would be.
