Managing a thread of Qi is a lot like juggling, it requires constant movement, coordination, and dexterity. The more Qi in the thread the more balls there are to juggle. The metaphor kind of dies a gruesome death once another thread is added, but the point is the meager act of pulling Qi is complicated and requires intense focus and skill. That brings us to Tantra, who is sitting cross legged in her bed, weaving together two threads of Qi into one small rope.
She has spent an hour 'circulating’ and the rope has yet to travel a single inch, it simply takes forever to weave together the threads. That simple separation at the start of the process exacerbates the ethereal burden to a point where she’s sure even her soul will be sore.
But it’ll all be worth it, her control will hopefully see a marked improvement, and Yorin can stop his whining. They only miss half their classes! Besides, she’s a fantastic tutor, he’s already pulling ahead of his peers. On the other hand, over a month of needing to alternate which day she gathers Qi and which one she circulates has left her further behind the pack. It’s not a dramatic change, but she can tell they’ve been getting better with the exercises, her included. She just isn’t experiencing the same rate of growth.
She’s a little jealous honestly, they don’t have to pull Qi from the world. One night's rest and voila, a full core at their disposal. She doesn’t have that luxury. Tantra doesn’t even remember the last time her core was full.
There is a knock on her window.
Tantra’s brow twitches as she loses control of the rope and the Qi dissipates, spreading out into the atmosphere. She turns to her window, stomps her way there, and opens it rather violently. Kisrin is on the other side with a sheepish expression.
Tantra narrows her eyes at him, “my fellow disciple, while it is a pleasure to see you, we are, in fact, in possession of a door.”
Kisrin scratches the back of his head, “apologies disciple Tantra, I came to pick you up for training, but your housemates seemed determined in their refusal to inform you of my presence.”
Tantra sighs, “and so your last resort was to knock on the window of a lady?”
Kisrin blushes and bows, “a thousand apologies, disciple Tantra!” he yells.
Tantra waves him off, “no need, now get out of the way.”
Kisrin seems confused but does as she says, Tantra takes a breath and jumps out the window, doing a roll as she lands on the ground. Kisrin has a look of shock and surprise on his face that Tantra almost laughs at, but the long hours of controlling her expression in the merchant world proved useful as serene indifference graces her features.
Kisrin stares slack jawed as she brushes off her robes.
“Well, disciple Kisrin? We may as well be off.”
-
The center of the training field is filled with the shouts of children as they each punch the air to the tune of master Karr. They stand in horse stance, an unsuitable form for combat, but Tantra assumes it's more for stressing the legs than it is for combat. It wouldn’t surprise her if cultivators devised methods to multi-task training. Next they’ll have them balance buckets of water while hopping between posts, or carrying bags of sand up and down the mountain. She stops that train of thought as she’d rather not tempt fate.
“One!”
A dozen hands snap forward, punching air as they yell out their battle cries. Tantra doesn’t get the point of all the yelling, is it supposed to be intimidating? They don’t yell in combat, it’s a waste of breath and a massive tell to your next move. She guesses it’s some more cultivator bullshit, probably too awkward to have a bunch of students punch air in silence.
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“Two!”
In what is a hopefully smooth motion, Tantra pulls back her right arm and throws out her left, snapping her hip to add power. That’s a pretty crucial thing she’s learned about punching, if you just use your arm, you’re not gonna do much of anything. Just a love tap really. Instead you have to put your whole body into the punch, every muscle moving in synchronicity to provide a more devastating blow. Tantra doesn’t think her punches are particularly devastating, but damage is damage, and that’s good enough for her.
-
Yorin munches on an apple as he watches Tantra collect the forest’s bounty from his perch on the treetop. She’s almost at her merit goal for a Qi stone, he’s tried to help her but she always refuses. Refuses? Yes, that’s the word…he thinks. He really should be studying instead of lazing on a tree but his brain honestly can’t handle Tantra’s expectations. He barely escaped with the excuse that he could watch for any beasts from up here.
Which he hasn’t been doing because, you know, forest.
He can’t exactly see through trees.
Would be pretty cool though.
So instead he keeps his eyes on his latest friend. She has a habit of using fancy words that he doesn’t understand, but she’s surprisingly calm, unlike his other fellows. They're all about duels and competitions and honour, he’s grateful to his past self for approaching her and not having to deal with all that.
Everyone seems to avoid her like the plague for some reason. Well, except for Kisrin, but he's a given, all things considered. He’s hoping to make a new friend but the boy is too awkward, and keeps trying to talk like Tantra. Which is kind of creepy ‘cause that means he knew how she talks before they actually talked.
Hmmmm.
Maybe Yorin should look into that.
Later, he’ll do that later. For now he has an apple to eat and studies to skip.
-
Tantra skips down to the merit hall, giddy for perhaps the first time since coming to the Serpent's Fang sect. Her basket weighs heavy on her back, but she doesn’t care, she’ll finally have enough! Now she can spend her entire evening practicing control instead of gathering Qi. Ok, that thought puts a slight damper on her excitement, but still, progress is progress is a step closer to home. Tantra swings open the doors to the merit hall, ignoring the dozen or so servants on her way to the delivery area, Yorin follows behind with a bemused expression.
“Good day honourable Bomin!” Tantra chirps, “I’m here to deliver my bounty.”
Bomin chuckles, “get something good for me today Tantra?”
“Yup! One DuskBloom flower, and a bunch of other assorted foliage.” She replies
Bomin raises a brow, “a DuskBloom?, you didn’t travel deeper than the outskirts, did you now?”
“Now Bomin, I would never do something so foolish. No, the gods saw fit to bless me on this day. I discovered this beautiful specimen just before coming back to the sect.” Tantra says as she waves around the flower.
Bomin chuckles, “Alright, alright. I get it, it’s a very nice flower, now let’s get down to business”
Tantra lets loose a shark-toothed grin, “I’d say the DuskBloom alone should grant me one-hundred merits.”
“What?!?” Bomin exclaims, “you trying to scam me girl? Seventy at best.”
“Come now Bomin, all you get are the younger disciples, you’ll never get another chance at one of these in your lifetime. Ninety merits”
Borin rubs at his brow, “No,no, even if it’s a unique opportunity it's not worth such a cost. Eighty five, final offer.”
“Deal!” Tantra says enthusiastically, offering her hand which the man reluctantly shakes.
“I swear, you’re going to drive this poor old man broke.” He laments.
“I would never, besides, I'm sure the other alchemists will be quite pleased by your acquisition.” She comfort’s.
Bomin sighs, “Indeed they will, indeed they will. Now, let’s get that basket over with before you give me a heart attack.”
Tantra smiles, ah the merit hall, best place in all the Serpent's Fang.
-
“I always forget how cruel you can be,” Yorin muses, “poor Bomin.”
Tantra waves him off, “don’t be so soft hearted Yorin, that’s how a proper merchant sinks their teeth into your coin purse.”
Yorin chuckles, “I think I just witnessed the opposite Tantra, how much do DuskBlooms normally go for anyway?”
Tantra shakes her hand, “around sixty to seventy, but that’s if you’re going for one of the more well known buyers. A lot less wiggle room to haggle with those.”
Yorin tilts his head, “mother always told me to be wary of merchants, I think I’m starting to see why.”
A sad smile finds its way on Tantra’s face, “yeah,” she says softly, “we’re quite scary.”