15 Chapter 12: Selection
As we approached the extensive library of scrolls and tomes, the air dense with the history and knowledge they contained, Davos and I prepared to part ways, each set to explore different aspects of the martial arts that called to us.
Davos, forever stoic and silent, maintained his characteristic seriousness, a testament to his deep respect for the martial traditions we were about to delve into. His eyes scanned the vast array of scrolls with an intensity that spoke volumes of his dedication.
"We should split up," I suggested, looking over the sections. "Cover more ground, find what truly speaks to us."
Davos nodded in agreement, his gaze still fixed on the shelves. "Yes. We'll have a better chance of finding what resonates with us individually."
I clapped him on the shoulder, feeling a sense of camaraderie and shared purpose. "Alright, see you back here in a bit. Good luck."
"Likewise," Davos replied, already moving towards a section filled with texts on grappling techniques. His movement was deliberate, each step taken with a quiet confidence.
I turned and headed towards the striking techniques, drawn by a deep-rooted interest in the power and precision I knew they promised. The scrolls in this section were numerous, each offering insights into different styles and approaches.
As I browsed through the scrolls, I could hear the faint rustle of parchment from where Davos was. It was a comforting reminder that we were in this together, each on our own path but united in our purpose.
As I continued perusing the scrolls in the striking techniques section, a particular scroll stood out, not just for its age and the wear of its edges, but for its name. I carefully unrolled it, revealing its title: "Tardigrade fist".
The name alone piqued my curiosity, drawing an immediate connection to the renowned resilience of the tardigrade, often hailed as one of nature's most indestructible creatures.
Tardigrades, also known as water bears, are microscopic organisms known for their extraordinary survival abilities. They can endure extreme conditions that would be fatal to most other forms of life, including intense radiation, the vacuum of space, and temperatures ranging from near absolute zero to well above the boiling point of water. Their resilience stems from their unique ability to enter a state of cryptobiosis, effectively shutting down their metabolic processes and becoming almost impervious to the external environment.
"Tardigrade fist" was a venerable striking art within the teachings of K'unlun, known for its unique emphasis on adaptability and environmental awareness. The scroll detailed a variety of striking techniques, each crafted to harmonize with the practitioner's surroundings.
Intrigued, I began to read more deeply. The art focused on utilizing the environment to enhance the effectiveness of strikes, whether in a forest, beside a river, in mountainous terrain, or even in urban settings. It taught how different terrains and elements could be used to one's advantage, turning seemingly innocuous aspects of the environment into extensions of the martial artist's own body.
The techniques ranged from utilizing uneven ground for leverage, to incorporating natural obstacles for enhanced force or surprise attacks. The illustrations showed practitioners using tree branches for elevated strikes, rocks for added momentum, and even shadows and light for deception.
What truly set "Tardigrade fist" apart was its detailed breakdown of scenarios. It wasn't just a list of techniques; it was a comprehensive guide on how to adapt and improvise in nearly any situation. Each scenario was accompanied by thoughtful analysis, guiding the reader on how to assess their environment and use it to their advantage.
Additionally, "Tardigrade Fist" incorporated principles of leveraging an opponent's force against them, embodying the tardigrade's ability to absorb and neutralize external pressures. The striking techniques were about precision and conservation of energy, ensuring that each strike was effective and sustainable over a prolonged period, much like the tardigrade's efficient use of resources to survive in extreme conditions.
The art required not only physical prowess but a deep mental acuity, an understanding of one's surroundings, and the ability to think and act swiftly.
This would work well with my adaptation, no matter how nerfed it is right now. Speaking of that… I need to figure out how to make it better.
If this really is like Lord of Mysteries, then I need my own version of beyonder recipes as well. Which means I have to create them from scratch..
I could feel the incoming headache.
Clutching the scroll of "Tardigrade Fist" closely, I turned away from the striking section, ready to explore the grappling techniques that K'unlun had to offer.
As I walked towards the grappling section, my steps filled with anticipation, I noticed Davos emerging from another part of the library. There was a distinct air of excitement about him, a vibrancy that seemed to emanate from his very being. The air almost smelled of it, like a rich, invigorating spice. His face bore an expression of satisfaction and eagerness, suggesting that he too had found a grappling discipline that spoke to him.
As our paths converged, Davos's eyes met mine, and there was an unmistakable spark of enthusiasm in them. It was clear that whatever he had chosen had ignited a fire within him. With an uncharacteristic spring in his step, he approached me.
Then, unexpectedly, Davos extended his hand for a fist bump. It was a simple gesture, but in that moment, it signified so much more.
I couldn't help but smile at his gesture, pleasantly surprised by this display of enthusiasm from the usually stoic Davos. I raised my hand and returned the fist bump.
Navigating through the grappling section of the library proved to be a more challenging task than I had anticipated. Unlike the striking section, where "Tardigrade Fist" had almost immediately resonated with me, finding the right grappling art required a deeper search and consideration.
The shelves were lined with an extensive array of scrolls, each detailing different grappling techniques and philosophies. Some focused on throws and takedowns, others on joint locks or chokeholds. The variety was vast, and each style had its unique approach and strategic nuances.
I spent the first few minutes scanning the titles, pulling out several scrolls and skimming through their contents. One detailed a style focused primarily on throws, another emphasized immobilizing techniques, but neither felt quite right. I was looking for something that combined ground control with submission techniques, akin to Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, maybe with a unique mystical twist.
As time passed, I became more immersed in the search, carefully reading through the descriptions and studying the illustrations. The intricate details of each style were fascinating, yet I couldn't find one that clicked perfectly with what I envisioned.
Around fifteen minutes into the search, my eyes landed on a scroll tucked away in a less conspicuous part of the shelf. It was labeled "Coiling Dragon," and it was the last book of this particular shelf. I reached for it.
Unrolling the scroll, I discovered that "Coiling Dragon" was exactly what I had been looking for. It was a grappling art that emphasized taking the opponent to the ground and gaining control through joint locks and strangulation techniques. The illustrations showed fluid yet powerful movements, reminiscent of a dragon's coiling and uncoiling motions – striking for their blend of elegance and force.
The techniques described in the scroll ranged from sophisticated takedowns to a variety of joint locks targeting limbs, and strangulation methods aimed at incapacitating or, if necessary, lethally neutralizing an opponent. The illustrations showed intricate maneuvers designed to gain and maintain dominant positions, allowing the practitioner to apply submissions effectively.
It felt like a perfect complement to the striking techniques of "Tardigrade Fist," plus it sounded cool.
My eyes scanned the space, searching for the section dedicated to Meditation Classics. The chamber, with its high ceilings and rows of ancient texts, exuded a sense of timeless wisdom and tranquility.
After navigating through various sections, I finally came upon an area marked by elegant calligraphy that read "Meditation Classics." The beauty of the script was captivating, each stroke of the brush reflecting the depth and serenity of the teachings it represented.
As I approached, something unusual caught my eye. In front of the section, there appeared to be a barrier, but it was unlike anything I had encountered before. It was clear, almost watery in appearance, shimmering subtly in the dim light of the chamber. The transparent barrier seemed both ethereal and tangible, a curious anomaly in the otherwise conventional setting of the library.
Intrigued, I reached out slowly, extending my hand towards the barrier. To my surprise, my hand passed through it effortlessly, the barrier rippling gently around my fingers like water, yet offering no resistance. It felt cool and slightly tingly, an unusual sensation that piqued my curiosity further.
Encouraged by this, I took a step forward, passing through the barrier completely. It felt as though I was walking through a curtain of cool mist, the sensation fleeting yet unmistakable. As I emerged on the other side, I realized that this barrier might have been a test or a protective measure, guarding the precious knowledge contained within the Meditation Classics section.
As I delved deeper into the Meditation Classics section, surrounded by the profound tranquility of the ancient texts, something at the very edge of my vision caught my attention. I turned towards it, my curiosity piqued by this anomaly in the otherwise serene environment of the Martial Chamber.
What I saw was startlingly out of place - a jagged, irregular void that seemed to warp the very fabric of reality around it. It wasn't merely black; it was an absence, a void that reminded me strikingly of the black void during my "erasure", albeit much less…. insanity-inducing.
Though this anomaly in front of me seemed to represent a similar total collapse of the reality surrounding it, a place where light and matter ceased to exist.
The sight of it was both fascinating and unnerving. It was as if I was staring into the absence of everything - not just darkness, but a complete void of existence. The edges of the hole were irregular, almost as if torn from the fabric of the world, defying the natural laws of the universe.
I felt a mixture of awe and a primal sense of caution, because this time… I have an actual body.
As I cautiously observed the enigmatic void, I noticed something that had initially escaped my attention. Above the jagged, reality-warping anomaly, a word was inscribed, barely perceptible yet unmistakable: "Sutras." This revelation brought a moment of clarity – the void was a gateway to the next rank of martial arts in K'unlun, a realm that Lei Kung had mentioned but advised us not to concern ourselves with just yet.
The void, with its daunting absence of light and matter, suddenly took on a new meaning. It wasn't just a random anomaly; it was a deliberate, guarded entrance to more advanced and perhaps more dangerous knowledge – the Sutras.
I glanced back at the transparent, watery barrier I had passed through earlier to enter the Meditation Classics section. In contrast to the void, that barrier had felt inviting, almost welcoming, a threshold I was permitted to cross. The realization struck me that these barriers, one transparent and the other an ominous void, were similar in nature – both were gatekeepers, but I only had permission to cross one.
As I perused the Meditation Classics section, surrounded by the profound stillness of the chamber, I began to carefully examine the various scrolls, each bearing a name that reflected its unique focus and approach to inner mastery and chi cultivation.
The first scroll I unrolled was titled "Breath of the Mountain." It focused on deep breathing techniques meant to enhance endurance and physical vitality. While the teachings were undoubtedly valuable, I felt they were more aligned with physical conditioning than the deeper chi manipulation and mental focus I was seeking.
Next, I came across a text named "Echoes of Stillness." This scroll delved into practices for achieving deep states of meditation, aiming to quiet the mind and sharpen focus. While the concept of mental tranquility was appealing, I was looking for something that provided a more direct connection with chi control and its application in martial arts.
Another scroll, "Dance of the Elements," caught my eye. It explored the concept of aligning one's chi with the natural elements – earth, air, fire, water. The philosophy was intriguing, teaching harmony with nature as a pathway to mastering one's internal energy. However, I was searching for a meditation practice that was more directly focused on enhancing martial abilities, something that would complement my chosen disciplines of "Tardigrade Fist" and "Coiling Dragon."
Feeling slightly disheartened, I continued my search. I encountered scrolls like "Whispers of the Ancients," which delved into the historical philosophies of chi, and "Shadow's Embrace," focusing on using meditation to harness one's inner darkness and fears. While each scroll offered profound wisdom and techniques, they didn't quite align with what I envisioned for my training – a meditation classic that would directly augment my martial skills and chi manipulation in combat.
Sadly, it was quickly dawning on me that the choice of a Meditation Classic was not just about picking a Chi technique; it was about finding a practice that resonated with my state of mind and one that I would enjoy.
As I continued my search through the Meditation Classics, a sense of frustration began to settle in. Each scroll I examined seemed to focus either too heavily on physical aspects or leaned too far into mental tranquility. None struck the balance I was seeking. With a sigh, I scanned the shelves once more, feeling a bit disheartened.
"Am I looking for something that doesn't exist here?" I muttered to myself, feeling the weight of disappointment. The titles all seemed to blend together, echoing similar themes of peace, harmony, and inner stillness.
Just as I was about to give up, a title that was starkly out of place caught the corner of my eye: "The Sanguine Fiend." It stood out amidst the serene and gentle names surrounding it. My initial reaction was one of surprise, almost disbelief at the contrast it presented.
"The Sanguine Fiend?" I thought, my curiosity instantly piqued. "Now, that's different." The name itself suggested a blend of vitality and intensity, a far cry from the more subdued titles I had been browsing through.
I reached for the scroll.
As I carefully opened the scroll of "The Sanguine Fiend," my fingers traced the ancient parchment with a mix of curiosity and anticipation. The first thing that greeted my eyes was not a conventional introduction to meditation techniques, but an anecdote, stark and jarring in its tone.
"To become a fiend is to feel," the words leapt out at me, sharp and unyielding. I felt a slight catch in my throat, a gulp of apprehension at the unanticipated bluntness of the opening line. My pupils dilated, trying to absorb the weight of each word, each sentence, as I continued.
"Feel a chilling pain that is constant and sharp. A fiend does not hope for a better world, for it cannot exist in one." The words echoed in my mind, painting a somber, almost bleak picture. A shiver ran down my spine, the stark realism of the text igniting a flurry of goosebumps on my arms. This was a far cry from the serene teachings I had encountered in K'unlun. It was raw, it was real, it was unsettling.
"It wishes. No. It craves for its pain to be inflicted on others. Escape does not exist. Not even for the fiend himself." The finality of these words hung heavily in the air. I felt a moment of hesitation, a twinge of doubt. These teachings were so antithetical.. so opposed everything K'unlun stood for, yet my curiosity propelled me forward, urging me to delve deeper into this uncharted territory.
The scroll in my hands felt like a living entity, its words cutting through the usual calm and tranquility I associated with meditation, replacing them with a biting edge of reality. This wasn't just a meditation practice; it was a confrontation with the darker, more complex aspects of the self and existence.
But I liked it.
I liked it alot.
I know I said that I wanted to live a peaceful life and all….
However, this is just too hard to resist…
The fierce sense of protectiveness for even strangers that enter their beloved city and the strong sensation of an adventure waiting to happen.
It is getting my blood rushing… no.. it is getting my blood boiling.
I wish I could see my face in the mirror because if I could, I would see myself smiling.
A cheshire smile that was stretching from one corner of my face to the other.
How troublesome…
Every time I smile, something bad happens..
Something exciting, yet bad always happens when I smile like this..
The problem is, I love smiling.
I chuckled to myself and forcefully changed my face to an impassive one
Nevertheless, my eyes still conveyed my intense amusement.
This is going to be so much fun.
I snapped the book shut and put all three books in one stack to carry. 'Tardigrade Fist' and 'Coiling Dragon' were about 130 and 60-ish pages respectively. 'The Sanguine Fiend' on the other hand was an entirely different animal.
Nearly 450 pages of whatever carnage and bloody words there are or at least that's how many sheets I counted.
I glanced at the stack in my hands and the vast library all around me.
"Don't worry, I will be getting to the rest of you very soon."
I looked behind me at the jagged void.
"Including you."
Satisfied, I started walking out towards the barrier.
Suppressing the chill going down my spine as I exited, feeling the tiniest resistance akin to stretching a rubber band surrounding my skin as the shape of the barrier contorted around me.
What a book hogger.
Then, it suddenly snapped back into place; taking shape as a flat transparent barrier again.
Reluctantly, I noted in my head.
I made my way back to Lei Kung and Davos, the scrolls of "Tardigrade Fist," "Coiling Dragon," and "The Sanguine Fiend" securely in my arms. The chamber seemed to echo with the quiet anticipation of the journey ahead.
Approaching them, I noticed Davos already there, a couple of scrolls in his hands. He raised an eyebrow playfully as I approached. "Took you long enough," he quipped, a light smirk on his face.
"I like to be thorough," I retorted with a grin, feeling a sense of accomplishment in my selections.
Lei Kung observed the exchange with a hint of a smile. "Taking time to choose wisely is a virtue, Daniel," he said approvingly, his gaze briefly shifting to the scrolls in my hands.
Davos, holding up his own selections, added, "Yeah, but let's hope your fighting is quicker than your decision-making."
I laughed, accepting the friendly jab. "We'll see about that."
As Davos and I, along with Lei Kung, prepared to leave the library, the atmosphere around us began to shift unexpectedly. The tranquil air of the library was suddenly pierced by a flicker of vibrant green flames. Lei Kung's chi manifested around him in a stunning turquoise aura, swirling like a fiery tempest.
We watched in awe as an emerald meteor materialized in front of us. It was a breathtaking spectacle, the air crackling with energy. Around the meteor, arrays of Sanskrit text began to float, glowing in green flame-like letters. The texts swirled around us, creating a mesmerizing dance of light and energy.
Before we could fully comprehend the situation, the glowing text and the energy around us seemed to converge, enveloping us in a bright, emerald light. The sensation was disorienting yet exhilarating, a feeling of being lifted from one reality and plunged into another.
In an instant, the scenery around us changed dramatically. We were no longer in the serene confines of the library but had been teleported to the training grounds of K'unlun. The transition was so sudden and unexpected that both Davos and I lost our balance, landing unceremoniously on our butts.
The training grounds were a stark contrast to the library, an open area marked for physical and martial training. As we picked ourselves up, still trying to process the swift change in our surroundings, Lei Kung stood calmly, his aura of chi fading back into subtlety.
Davos and I exchanged glances, both a mix of surprise and excitement.
Regaining my composure, I couldn't help but let out a chuckle at the unexpectedness of it all, brushing myself off, I quipped, "Well, that's one way to start training."
Shifu chuckled with me.
His expression changed as he gestured towards the scrolls. "Let's see what paths you both have chosen."
Shifu turned his attention to the scrolls Davos had selected. "Davos, present your choices," he said with a tone that carried both curiosity and gravity.
Davos stepped forward, unrolling his scrolls with a sense of respect and anticipation. He first revealed his choice for the striking art: "Volcanic Palm." Lei Kung's eyes scanned the scroll, a flicker of approval passing through his gaze.
"Volcanic Palm," Lei Kung mused, nodding slightly. "A powerful choice. This art is known for its explosive force and the ability to channel deep, eruptive energy into each strike. It demands control as much as it does strength."
Next, Davos presented his grappling choice: "Titan's Clutch." Lei Kung examined the scroll, his expression remaining thoughtful. "Titan's Clutch... a bold choice indeed. It embodies overwhelming strength and control, a style that requires not just physical power but a deep understanding of leverage and technique."
Finally, Davos unveiled his Meditation Classic: "Resonance of the Iron Will." Lei Kung took a moment to consider this selection. "An essential practice for a martial artist," he remarked. "This will forge your mental resilience, sharpen your focus and fortify your determination. A fitting complement to your martial choices."
Lei Kung gave Davos a measured nod, indicating his approval of the well-rounded and robust nature of his selections.
However Davos stepped back, Shifu added a cautionary note, his voice carrying a hint of wisdom born from experience. "Be mindful, however, Davos. The refinement of an iron will, while essential, has its pitfalls. Even what should remain fluid can turn solid. Stubbornness is a trait you already possess in abundance. Do not let 'Resonance of the Iron Will' turn you into more of a stubborn bull than you are already shaping to be."
Davos listened intently, his expression serious. The advice seemed to resonate with him, a silent acknowledgment of the fine line between strength and inflexibility.
With Davos's selections acknowledged and the sage advice imparted, Shifu's gaze shifted towards me, an unspoken invitation to reveal the paths I had chosen.
Holding the scrolls of "Tardigrade Fist" and "Coiling Dragon," I stepped forward, presenting them to Lei Kung. His gaze, sharp and discerning, fell upon the scrolls as I unrolled them for him to see.
First, he examined "Tardigrade Fist." Lei Kung's eyes moved across the text, taking in the details of the striking art I had chosen. "The Tardigrade Fist," he said thoughtfully, "An art that embodies resilience and adaptability. It teaches one to endure and to strike with precision and strength. A solid choice for developing robust striking techniques."
He then shifted his attention to "Coiling Dragon." As he perused the scroll, a subtle nod indicated his approval. "Coiling Dragon for grappling," Lei Kung remarked. "This art requires finesse and strategic thinking. It emphasizes not just physical control but also the tactical aspect of grappling. Together with the Tardigrade Fist, this will greatly enhance your versatility in combat."
His words were encouraging, acknowledging the synergy between the two martial arts I had chosen.
After reviewing both scrolls, Lei Kung looked at me, a hint of curiosity in his expression, ready to see the Meditation Classic I had selected to accompany my physical training.
With a slight hesitation, knowing the potential reaction it might evoke, I carefully presented my final choice, the scroll of "The Sanguine Fiend." As Lei Kung's gaze fell upon the scroll, particularly noting its creepy red coloring and the stark title, I saw a subtle but unmistakable reaction.
His hand twitched ever so slightly, a brief but clear indication of his surprise or perhaps concern. The wind around us seemed to pick up momentarily, as if responding to the shift in Lei Kung's energy.
He clenched his jaw, a rare display of emotion from the usually composed master. His face remained stoic, giving nothing away, but his eyes told a different story. They were like a turbulent sea, stormy and deep, reflecting a whirlwind of thoughts or memories.
As Lei Kung held "The Sanguine Fiend" in his hands, his usual composure seemed to falter slightly. Instead of offering advice or insights as he had with the other scrolls, he just stared at me, long and hard. His expression was inscrutable, but there was an undeniable intensity in his gaze.
Then, a subtle but distinct scent filled the air – minty, almost like peppermint, an aroma that was unexpected and out of place in the training grounds. I instinctively knew it wasn't coming from Davos; it was emanating from… Shifu???
The realization was startling. This particular scent was often associated with emotional turmoil, and in this context, it seemed to signify indignation, a rare crack in Shifu's usually imperturbable facade.
The presence of the book seemed to have triggered something in Shifu, a reaction that was both concerning and curious. For a master who had honed his emotional control over millennia, to exhibit even this subtle sign of disturbance was significant. It spoke volumes about the nature of "The Sanguine Fiend" and the memories or associations it might have evoked in him.
The moment stretched on, the air charged with unspoken tension. Lei Kung's eyes remained fixed on me, and in them, I could see a storm of emotions that he was meticulously keeping at bay. It was a rare glimpse into the depth of his character, a hint that behind his disciplined exterior lay experiences and emotions as complex as any other being.
Finally, Lei Kung handed the scroll back to me, his expression smoothing back into its usual calm. He didn't offer any comments or warnings about "The Sanguine Fiend," his silence on the matter speaking louder than words. I accepted the scroll back, now acutely aware of the profound impact it seemed to have on even the greatest warrior monk in K'unlun.
Davos, observing the silent exchange between Lei Kung and me, seemed visibly concerned. His eyes flicked back and forth, taking in the unusual tension in the air. He appeared to be wrestling with the decision to speak up or remain silent, his mouth opening and closing as if words were on the brink of escaping, yet he held them back.
The moment was broken by Lei Kung's voice, calm yet carrying an underlying seriousness. "Stay after training, Daniel. I wish to speak to you about this choice," he said, his gaze still fixed on me.
His words, though softly spoken, resonated with a gravity that underscored the importance of the forthcoming conversation. It was clear that 'The Sanguine Fiend'' was more than just another text in the vast collection of K'unlun's martial arts teachings. It held a significance, perhaps a personal one for Lei Kung, that warranted a deeper discussion.
Davos, hearing Lei Kung's request, gave me a look that mingled curiosity with concern, but he chose to remain silent, respecting the somber mood of the moment.
I nodded in acknowledgment to Shifu.
After indicating his desire to speak with me later, Lei Kung seamlessly returned to his usual composed demeanor. The peppermint scent that had briefly filled the air, indicative of his emotional response, gradually faded, becoming more like a faint aftertaste lingering in the background.
Without wasting any time, Shifu directed us to start our training session with a vigorous warm-up routine. He instructed us to begin with running, and we immediately set off, circling the serene lake that bordered the training grounds. The laps around the lake, about 20-25 in total, set a brisk pace, serving as an effective way to elevate our heart rates and warm up our muscles.
After completing the running portion, Lei Kung led us through a series of calisthenics exercises. We started with pushups, transitioning smoothly into planks. Each movement was controlled and deliberate, emphasizing form and endurance. This was followed by squats and burpees, exercises that engaged multiple muscle groups and further increased our heart rates.
Jumping jacks added a cardiovascular element to our routine, while side steps focused on agility and lateral movement. Lei Kung included a few additional exercises, each chosen for its effectiveness in warming up and preparing the body for more intense training.
The exertion had us sweating a bit, but my sweat seemed to dissipate within a few minutes of forming. The cooling sensation efficiently regulated my body temperature and any sort of small fatigue that I had, making the workout more endurable.
As we concluded the calisthenics routine, our bodies were fully warmed up, loose, and energized, ready for the more specialized martial arts training that lay ahead. Lei Kung observed us closely, with me and Davos not shying away.
He opened his lips as we got ready to drop down and give him another 20 pushups.
As we braced ourselves for another round of pushups, Shifu's voice interrupted our expectations. "Enough for today," he said, a slight change in his usual tone.
"Go home. Spend your time studying the scrolls you have chosen. Begin with practicing the grappling and striking techniques. Give the meditation classic a brief overview, but focus primarily on understanding its structure in comparison to the other techniques."
Our tense bodies slackened at the surprising directive.
He continued, "The purpose of this is to develop your own comprehension. Learn to absorb and apply knowledge on your own. Tomorrow, bring any questions you have, and I will address them."
Davos and I nodded.
He hesitantly grabbed his scrolls, but I shook my head at him; signifying it was okay.
He looked back between me and his father, ultimately just coming up to give me a fistbump and leaving.
THE END.
(A.N): Folks, I drowned in the holiday spirit a bit too much, well that and work. I got a bit of writer's block too.
IT SUCKS. The thing is that I know what major and minor arcs, along with building up to them.
HOWEVER, THE DIALOGUE IS KILLER. The small everyday filler things or the buildup just makes me stare at the wall and bang my head.
5000 words is easy when it's something significant, but when its just something not that crazy. It sucks.
5071 words not including the author's note.
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year everyone.
