If Simon was going to jump down and risk hostilities with whatever it was that lived beneath him, he needed to be prepared. As such, he returned to the Mirror, and selected the Archon he felt offered the best chance of survival for someone with no experience with magic thingamajigs. That basically ruled out the Archons with a Weave dependence, which left either the Hammer or the Whisper. While he was drawn to the Lesser Vitality the Hammer seemed to have -being able to take a hit might be useful after all- he chose the Whisper, since he felt that hiding required less skill, and being unseen in the darkness might be very useful if he would encounter something more powerful than him. He connected to the dark grey mist, and dug deeper within in an attempt to adopt the Archon of darkness.
The force flooded his body through his sternum once again with a sharp ache, accompanied by the dark grey mist that obscured his vision. When he opened his eyes, he looked around for new changes, and found that his home felt ordinary again, the way it had before he’d adopted the Housecarl. His clothes had been replaced by a black short-sleeved vest with a grey shirt underneath, and black boots underneath black pants. Yup, he'd turned into an angsty teen. He also noted a difference in height. Where first his eyes had been level with the top part of the ring, they were now slightly lower. He wondered what else had changed, and noticed he seemed to have less fat on him, and more lean muscle, strong arms sticking out of his shirt with calloused hands. Also, where there had first been a welcoming hearth now stood a small, simple wooden table with some items on it. He approached it, and smiled at the fact he would not jump completely unprepared.
On the table was a utility belt with a holstered dagger and room to store small items. There was also a warm long overcoat, that surprisingly was not a sunny yellow. It was black as night aside from a dark red inner lining. Of course. He almost expected to find a fedora and a katana somewhere, but was glad those were not part of the costume. He donned the belt and coat, and stored both Skybeacons in separate places to ensure he would be able to return. One in his belt, and the other he tucked into his right boot. His remaining Impact Counter was once again pinned to his chest, and the Gauge got a spot opposite to his dagger, on his left hip. Before jumping, he wanted to familiarize himself with his new body. He went out the front door, turned around, and tried climbing into his bedroom window. Which actually wasn't all that difficult. Simon hadn't been out of shape before, but the lean muscle and smaller size of this body made his previous body seem sluggish and unrefined. He climbed around his house a bit more, wincing at the weathered roof tiles, then eagerly turned to testing out his abilities.
The scale in his bathroom had fortunately survived the previous purges, as he had luckily had the foresight to use it as a test for his Featherweight ability. When he got on, he noticed he weighed only 70kg compared to his previous 84kg. He then focused on his weight, and willed the little needle on the dial to go down. Nothing happened. He closed his eyes and tried to feel for his weight, and to draw it into him like taking a breath of mass. Something worked. He looked down, and saw he now weighed 60kg. He tried to draw in more, but it would not go much further. If he focused he managed 58kg, but when he lost that focus he quickly gained a few extra kilos. It was definitely not too consistent in the amount he lost, but he couldn't help being amazed.
‘Doctors don't want you to know this amazing trick to lose weight!' Simon chuckled to himself. When he got off the scale, he felt a notable increase in the lightness of his movements, as if he had just dropped a sack of potatoes. However, he also felt some strain on his muscles. Changing his mass or whatever it was, it required some of his energy. He looked at himself in the mirror. He didn’t seem thinner. Just regular Simon, except a little shorter and more muscular, hair perhaps a shade darker than it was. Next, Simon shut off the light in the bathroom, plunging the windowless chamber into darkness. It felt… kind of nice. Cosy. At home. While there was no light source, he was still able to see what was around him in clear shades of grey. His hands however were a little harder to make out. It almost seemed to be the color of whatever was behind it, and while he could see his hands when he moved them it was quite a bit harder when he did not. This was worth the lack of coloured clothes, he mused.
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He then tried if this Blinking thing was possible. He knew he should be able to do it. He simply had to let himself sink into the darkness around him while focusing on a different spot of darkness. But that was a lot easier theorized than done. The Whisper may know how to do it, but to Simon it felt unnatural to simply sink into a solid surface. He tried it for some time, before he got the notion to think of the darkness as water, and he would just take a dive. He let himself fall back while focusing on a spot a meter in front of him, and felt a cool sensation spread out from his back, quickly engulfing his body. And then he fell through it, the sensation once again retreating from his back while he emerged from the spot he had focused on. I just motherfucking teleported! Holy hell! Simon tried a few more times, and quickly grew more accustomed to the odd feeling, to the point where he even tried to run into a wall and come out on the opposite end of the bathroom. However, the strain on his body was building rapidly, and by his sixth Blink he was taking deep breaths with his hands on his head. He wouldn't quite call it 'mastery', but he at least seemed able to consistently do it, and even change his orientation on emergence.
Satisfied with his quick progress, Simon left the bathroom and went back downstairs. He had dinner, packed a small, dark blue backpack with food and water, and had a short nap after an exhausting day. He set his alarm for in a few hours. When it went off, he was quickly awakened at the prospect of his next move. He pocketed the phone, grabbed his backpack, and went outside. Just this morning he had woken up thinking he still had a job to do, and now, as the sun had long been replaced by a full moon that lit his yard and wisps of cloud beyond, he was preparing to jump down several kilometers without a parachute.
He reconsidered the whole thing. When thinking of his current abilities, landing in the dark was definitely the way to go. But it was not the timing that bothered him so much. It was the fact that he simply did not know what awaited him down there. His Beacons would definitely help him out if something unexpected happened, but his fear of the unknown remained. Would the Impact Counter work with this large an impact? Would the Counter simply absorb the blow against the highest tree branch he hit, dooming him to fall the rest of the way without it? Would he land in the middle of Times Square? Simon peeked over the edge once more, and while the cloud cover seemed to have diminished, he still could not see what the surface consisted of despite the fairly bright moonlight.
It didn't matter, he had prepared as much as he could, Simon concluded. He stepped back from the edge, took one more deep breath, sprinted at the dark sky and jumped.
The first thing he noticed was how cold it suddenly became. Stinging winds rushed past him, forcing his eyes to close. He was falling blind now, and a mild panic began to set in, animal instincts of his hairy ancestors struggling against his rational mindset. Deep breaths, Simon. But to his dismay, he found that was near impossible. The freezing, rushing wind fought him every step of the way, and every breath he took was spent by the time he could take another one. The simple act of breathing he'd taken for granted was a struggle now, and it only increased his panic.
I was way higher up than I thought! If I pass out right now, I will be done for if I land in water!
Simon kept up the struggle, wresting away as many breaths as he could from the quickening air, but he felt the cold spread through his lungs, impairing his muscles, stacking the fight against him even further. His chest seemed to tighten, thoughts came more sluggish and a subtle ache started building in his head. He felt freezing droplets clinging to his face, and Simon tried opening his eyes to slits once more. All he saw was clouds tumbling around him rapidly. In a desperate effort, he tried to pull his coat up over his face and breathe the air trapped within. It seemed to work, but only briefly, as the feeling of suffocation quickly returned. He searched his pocket for the Beacon, but his vision was poor, his fingers numb, and his mind too clouded by panic and oxygen-deprivation to remember he’d put it in his belt. He felt himself rapidly growing weaker, dark spots appearing in his vision, just as he got a glimpse of where he was headed.
Well, at least it's not wate...