Remnants of the Earth
AEDOLIS => Haviah => Advanced Training Complex => Topic started by: Nix on February 23, 2017, 04:35:47 pm
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Windsor was a bit of a marvel, at least in regards to avoiding the bullies and torment that often accompanied stage 2. When he closed his eyes he could see things and people around him through what he called 'mapping'. It worked kind of like psychic echo location and it allowed him to tell what kind of vibes were worth avoiding, and which people. He blinked a few times but his one contact was moving and really just annoying him today. He was at a point where he wondered why he was bothering with them. His eyesight was shit these days and it wasn't going to get better. He had been told that he would most likely be completely blind before he could even hope to graduate and by then there would be no hope of saving his eyesight. On top of that the odds were a lot lower he that he would graduate if he couldn't see.
Part of him wanted to give into the inevitability that he would be TRIM'd, but he was too stubborn to just give up. If there was a shot he was going to take it. So when he had gotten a new mentor about a month ago he hoped that the Pilot Royal would be able to help him. So far Pilot Royal Lockhart just seemed to hate mentoring.
Windsor cracked his eyes open so that he could check if the Pilot had sent him a message. He was pretty early, but just wanted to make sure nothing had changed. Pilots often got pulled away on missions even when they had plans to meet with you. It was just a fact. No. That message was just the chatroom. He really should just quit that. He barely ever read it anyway, it hurt his eyes a lot. He let them close and watched the few others in the large training hall go about their business.
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But seconds later if he would check it again, there would be a message.
"HEY! I've been standing in the gym for FIVE MINUTES! WHERE ARE YOU???"
Banning closed his comm and took off the watch that had been secured to his wrist. No he wasn't fond of mentoring, and he wasn't one to come off as a hard-ass, but when he was punctual and his candidate wasn't, he wasn't happy.
And if he wasn't happy, his Candidate probably wasn't going to be happy either.
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Another notification. Maybe he should just silence his com, ones from Pilot Royal Lockhart would still sound regardless so- shit. He looked down at the rather angry message and then scrolled up to double check. No. They definitely agreed to meet where he was sitting. Not that there was any arguing with a Pilot Royal. He squinted and typed a short 'I'm sorry sir. I was sitting at the north end of the training hall by the water dispensers. Must have misread where we were going to meet. I am headed to you now.'
There was also no point in arguing that he was still a good fifteen minutes early. Clearly the Pilot was not in a great mood. Neither was Windsor, but his own mood didn't matter. He picked up his things and headed across the edge of the training hall, walking with his eyes closed and trying to avoid being in anyone's way. He was doing a good job of it too until his foot knocked something over. From the sound of it it was one of those metal drink thermoses. Shit. He hadn't seen it on the floor. Smaller inconsequential objects with no embued energy didn't show up when he was mapping. Windsor opened his eyes and picked up the thermos, though some of the liquid had already spilled out. Still it obviously didn't seem important- or so he thought till he found himself slammed against the wall by a telekinetic force.
His head felt like it had split in two, it had been hurting before the impact with the wall and this certainly didn't help matters. He squinted but could barely see who had attacked him as he slid down the wall to his feet. He closed his eyes to be met with the sort of energy he would normally avoid at all costs.
"What the fuck do you think you are doing you asshole?! Why don't you watch where you are going??!!" The figure's energy pulsated with rage as they shouted at Windsor. Probably a stage 3 candidate as they seemed to act higher than him and there were a few others just watching. "OPEN YOUR FUCKING EYES!"
Windsor cracked them open again, squinting up at the other higher ranked candidates, though he could barely make them out he knew there were five of them right around him. "I am sorry. It was clumsy of me and rather careless. It won't happen again. I am running late for a meeting with my mentor though so please excuse me." He said just trying to get out of the situation.
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Whoops! He supposed he had told him earlier to meet him by the water dispensers. Banning cursed himself and slipped the phone back into his pocket. Maybe he just didn't want to admit being wrong but what kind of mentor would he be if he let his Candidate believe he could just go wherever he wanted. All he really knew of Candidate Annsley was his medical and psychiatric records.
Banning wasn't any good at this. It was a mistake that was too late to take back now, however.
All he could do now was wait. But already his patience was wearing thin. Not because of Candidate Annsley. Just because sometimes his condition made him ornerny. At least he'd eaten well and rubbed one out this morning. Two less things to worry about.
Yeah, he wasn't going to wait for him. So Banning marched off from the gym to go and meet his Candidate instead. The northern end of the hall wasn't that far off.
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Windsor found himself slammed against the wall again as he tried to walk past the group. He winced slightly and shut his eyes, trying to identify which of them had just pushed him back again. "...you are pretty strong if you can move other psychic's like that. It would be an honor to train with you but I really do have to meet my mentor now." Don't engage them, just keep being polite and get out of here, keep your thoughts guarded.
"He's just trying to get out of a proper apology." One of them scoffed. Whether that one read his mind or just deduced it Windsor couldn't tell.
"I did apologize. And I am late-" He explained before taking a punch to the face.
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Fifteen minutes here was also fifteen minutes there. And even with Banning's long stride he wouldn't get there faster than say 12 minutes. By minute 6 however, he had a bad feeling growing inside of him.
The hall still stretched another 9 minutes by walk, 5 by sprint. And the bodies that began to pollute the hallway, at least in this direction, maybe 6. Banning could feel something growing intensely wrong, and when Windsor was struck hard in the face, the red vibration echoed in pale stripes in his mind.
He dashed off at once, moving past people and running faster than most men, even Pilots could. Boots slammed against the ground until he rounded the corridor, left then right. 3 minutes. And closed his eyes to push a telekinetic force against the other five that were about to strike Windsor once again.
"Get the hell of my Candidate," Banning growled and took one of the Stage 3's by the collar. "Or pick on someone your own size, pal. And I suggest you brush your teeth. You still have egg salad in them." And pushed him off.
"Leave," he commanded. "Now. Or there's going to be a real fucking problem."
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Pain blossomed as did the red swelling on his cheek but he turned his head offering the other cheek to the candidate that struck him. The gesture seemed to baffle the others to the point where he heard one of them say "Let's just go." And then they were thrown back. Strange he hadn't done that.
With his eyes closed he could see the force that had done it but couldn't seem to locate the source. He turned to face the wall some trying to extend his mapping in that direction. Ah. Pilot Royal Lockhart. Shit. He was probably going to get in more trouble. He could see the other running towards him only because of the sheer energy behind the other's movements. Normally that would extend past his range, though it was getting better. And Pilot Royal Lockhart was really on the move.
In fact, he was there and grabbing one of the other candidates just as he started to come up behind Windsor again. The exchange between his mentor and the others was not something he had expected. He was a stage 2 candidate and he had heard stories of some mentors being a bit protective if they liked you but mostly they didn't care if you were beat up till you were stage 3 or higher. The others were scrambling to leave and the one Banning had grabbed was stammering a pathetic apology, obviously quite shocked. No one dare talk back to a Pilot Royal, especially not after the Pilot Cnyte incident. Punishments for insubordination had worsened almost back to Rosales-esque levels now that Pilot Echo Sheehy-Matthers was in charge, a surprise to most candidates since he had always been one of the more easy going instructors.
Windsor could 'see' the expressions on the stage 3 candidate's face as the other got back to his feet and grabbed his thermos. Fear, but he could see the rage radiating off of the other and it was directed right at Windsor.
"Pilot Royal Lockhart Sir. I apologize for being late. It was my fault. As well as being tardy I disrupted these candidates who were merely training. My apologies to you all."
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No, no one ever spoke back to a Pilot Royal that way before. It wasn't that Banning was counting on his rank to protect him from retaliation. He knew that these punks wouldn't mess with him anyway, being far less trained and strong than he was. As they skittered away like roaches from a kitchen light, he huffed and shook himself of the rage that broiled just underneath.
And now here Annsley was...apologizing? For what?
Banning quickly put a hand up. "Stop," he said, shaking his head. "I hate little punks like that. Yeah, the Candidate program is cutthroat, but five to one is straight up being a dick. Don't worry about a thing, Candidate Annsley. Those little fucks will learn to toe the line soon enough."
Banning pat the boy on the shoulder. "I think I just figured out my lesson for today. Let's get your nose patched up, and then head to the training rooms."
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He didn't disagree with five against one being unfair but he often found that was how bullies worked. They usually liked an entourage following them so they could feel big. He didn't feel fighting the system would help though. All he needed to do was make sure he graduated. He was fairly certain that if those kinds of candidates even managed to graduate they would have a very rude awakening once they became Pilots.
Still, it was nice to know he had a mentor who at least seemed to care about his well being. Well, more so than him not being dead. Wait... his nose? Was that where the pain in his face was coming from? Windsor reached up to touch his nose and that was a bad idea. It was really sore, almost more so then his head, but headaches he was used to powering through. It felt... broken, definitely out of place, and he hadn't even realized it was bleeding. Maybe he should have fought back. Windsor looked up at his mentor, even though his eyes were closed. "Yeah that sounds like a good plan sir."
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Banning wasn't going to let his Candidate bleed out all over the place. Especially not when he was supposed to be taking care of the poor sap. Regardless the trip to the infirmary was a short one, Banning dragging Windsor along the hall so the kid wouldn't run into a wall, or another fist - heaven forbid.
The nurse settled Windsor into the examination room, and Banning waited in the door way. "It's just a little crick. We'll have to break it back to settle it into place. Is that okay with you, Candidate Annsley?" the nurse replied.
Banning tilted his head. "Are you sure that's the only solution?"
"Unless he doesn't want to breath along with not being able to see, I'd say yes."
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Windsor was fairly certain he could find his way around even through the pain but he was fine with letting Pilot Royal Lockhart lead him. He stayed pretty silent the whole way to the infirmary and even as he was examined. He looked at both the nurse and his mentor with his eyes closed. "It's fine. If we don't do it my glasses won't sit right and my contacts are more trouble than they are worth as it is." He said putting on a brave and stoic face. He wasn't a glutton for pain but he knew it was inevitable anyway, there was no point whining about it.
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Frankly, Banning was surprised that Windsor made no complaint at the concept of having to rebreak his nose to fix a broken nose. He pursed his lips and nodded in a small ounce of respect. There was no use to stopping the matter further. The boy would only learn through action.
The nurse was quick and snapped it back into place. Banning watched with interest, wondering at Windsor's capacity for pain. When the deed was done and the nose was patched up, with cotton puffs sticking from his nostrils, Banning laughed and he clapped Windsor on the shoulder.
"You know, you're a strange kid. You don't even cry. Or scream. Why?"
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He forced himself to stay still while the nurse snapped his nose back in place, though he did inhale sharply and he dug his nails into the palms of his hands. But it was over quick. The whole area around his face hurt and he was just glad he didn't have to look at himself. He had never been particularly vain like most Aedolian teenagers, there was little point to it since he could barely see his reflection anyway, but he figured he probably looked a mess now.
He had been about to jump off the exam table when Banning clapped him on the shoulder. He turned towards his mentor and opened his eyes, a task that actually hurt more than normal due to the extra pain in his face. He wanted to cry or scream sometimes but... "I just don't see the point I guess." He muttered looking at his mentor's blurry face. "It doesn't change anything and its just indulging self pity isn't it?"
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"That's an interesting outlook," Banning muttered, crossing his arms. He noticed his Candidate's eyes and he pulled up a rolling stool from the side of the exam room beside a desk and sat in front of Windor. The nurse didn't look pleased to have him in there, either of them, having some kind of casual conversation. But she went about her business, filling out one form or another.
"How bad is your vision, exactly?" he asked, waving his hands in front of Windsor's face. "And why has nobody bothered to fix it? It's not like people really need glasses anymore. Except, I guess if you're a candidate, you'll just have to suffer through. Is that it?"
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"My parents didn't have the money for the surgery... and I can see you waving your hand in front of my face but it's blurry. I will probably be completely blind in about two years at this rate, and last I heard the government won't pay for my surgery unless I become graduate. Of course by that time I will be past the point of surgery helping so its a moot point." He forced himself to stay calm as he explained it. "It makes sense though. No point throwing away money on a candidate if they just end up getting shipped off to TRIM right?"
He let his eyes closed and watched as the nurse filled out the forms, she was obviously annoyed. "Shall we go train now Pilot Royal Lockhart?"
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"And it never occurred to them that fixing your eyes might actually guarantee their investment? Of course not," Banning scoffed. Yeah yeah, it wasn't becoming to talk ill of the government right in the ATC, but the nurse didn't seem to give a shit and even gave an audible sigh to know it was time for them to leave.
So Banning stood and offered to help Windors up. But, he soon retracted his hand and allowed Annsley to walk on his own out to one of the psychic training rooms. It was still early and some of the other Candidates had gone off on their own now. Banning ignored them and maneuvered around the kid.
"All right. Look I'm new at this whole mentoring thing, Annsley. So, I'm gonna need you to help me as much as you need help yourself. So...what kinds of things was your last mentor showing you?" he asked.
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It was nice to hear a Pilot talk that way. Like he wasn't just another sheep who may or may not be thinned from the herd. Windsor stood up of his own accord. His head was killing him and if he was completely honest he was really dizzy too but at least mapping didn't make him dizzier. It was much easier with his eyes closed.
He followed Banning to one of the training rooms, navigating around the few others they came across with a soft, 'excuse me' here and there when necessary. Once they were there he had to admit he was feeling a bit drained but he had to power through things before. It was part of what being a candidate was right? At least he didn't have it as bad as Val.
"Well... to be fair I don't think my last mentor knew the best way to train me. He was very focused on my telekinesis and telepathy. I don't think he knew what to make of the 'mapping'. He mostly made me train with my eyes open."
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Banning could understand that plight, and he grunted with a small sense of sympathy for the Candidate. He didn't come here to feel sorry for anybody, Banning knew you couldn't help everyone. You had to learn to survive or you were going to be steamrolled by everyone and everything. Some lessons were just learned the hard way.
Mapping... He'd read Annsley's file. And it was no wonder that his previous mentor had given up on him. A frown set into the corner of his mouth. "I had a similar problem. I'm vibrokinetic. I can read vibrations, both from sound and from people. Although people are easier as they give off a lot of energy."
Banning stood beside Windor and he could feel the kinetic vibrations stemming off of objects in the room. No doubt Hyperion could feel them too, but he was obviously less interested in them. Most of it was sealed down to prevent accidents. Perfectly understandable. "All right Candidate. When you begin mapping, how are you feeling? And please be as specific as possible."
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So Banning at least seemed to have a better understanding of what he was going through. Vibrokinetic huh?
Windsor opened his eyes and blinked a bit. "How I feel?" No one had ever asked him that before. He closed his eyes again and took a deep breath. "It feels like... I'm not sure how to describe it really. Everything is dark... But it feels like I am thinking really hard, even though it's automatic. And then I can 'see' it's more like outlines and colors though... If I try to see in greater detail than that I get really bad migraines."
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"All right, Candidate, let's try something," Banning said as he got up from beside Windsor and stepped out onto the field. He backed away approximately 15 feet and stood with legs spread out and his arms apart to cover a wider area.
"Map me. And only me. Not the room. Start with the basics, like how far away I am, my size and shape. Don't overwhelm yourself. Just go a little at a time, Annsley. Just focus on me."
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"Sir..." Windsor started to protest but silenced himself. What was he about to say? That he couldn't? That it didn't work like that? It didn't, it wasn't like scanning something... he wasn't sure he could block out the rest of the room, but he also had not tried. And there for there was no point in protesting.
He opened his eyes looking down at the ground to try and reset his mapping. When he closed his eyes he tried to focus just on Banning, but the walls of the room were coming up too. His brain was sending out telepathic wavelengths in every direction that were bouncing off the walls and off of the Pilot and sending back information; shape, size, and energy. The first two were easy to see as outlines but the third translated to colors in his 'vision'. He could see that his mentor wasn't that far away, maybe about 10 feet? A bit farther? Size... it was harder to translate at a distance but he was big... He could still see the walls...
Windsor sighed and shook his head. "I'm not sure how to focus solely on you Pilot Lockhart... I thought I was but I still see the walls."
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Banning could feel Windor's power, if only faintly, feeling that reverberation bouncing off of him like sound waves. Banning kept himself still and his breathing steady, projecting out a feeling of calm. Of focus and baded Windsor's lungs to breath in time with his.
"That's okay," he said across the distance. "You know how you stare at something for a long time, and the rest of everything else becomes blurred around it. Think of this just like that. Stare with your mind. Acknowledge the walls, know that they're there, but center your mental vision. Map the object of your attention. Breathe normally. In and out, Annsley. Easy-like, understand?"
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Windsor could feel his breathing become more even, was that Pilot Lockhart's doing? He felt calmer. "Ok... just focus on you..."
Saying it was much easier than doing it but repeating in his mind, and breathing... it made it easier. Pilot Lockhart was staying calm for his sake. It was rather, reassuring. Windsor kept focusing, trying to stare at his mentor with his mind like he had been told. And then...
"HOLY FUCKING SHIT!" Windsor wasn't sure he had ever cursed like that, certainly not in front of a Pilot, but for a second, for just a second, he could SEE Pilot Royal Lockhart, clear as day... and then his head started throbbing so badly he could barely stand. He winced and held his temples, squatting down so that his center of gravity was lower and he wouldn't fall over.
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At his exclamation, Banning darted forth. Bending down beside Windsor, he frowned and watched the younger Candidate grasp his skull. "Hey, hey! This is normal. Take a deep breath, Annsley. We're just getting started. You have to push through the pain, like you did with those punks."
Banning crossed the room to get the kid a cup of water and offered it to him. Sure he could extract the information with ease if he wanted to, but he'd rather have the Candidate tell him himself. "What did you see? Did it work?"
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Windsor nodded slightly but the pain in his face and head was so bad he wanted to just cut the whole thing off at the neck and be done with it. He blinked a bit unsure if the pain was worse with his eyes open or closed. Before he knew it Banning was next to him with a cup of water. He took it and blinked up at the blurry Pilot. "Thank you sir," The candidate said before taking a sip of the water, his hands shaking a bit despite his best efforts to be strong.
"...I saw you Pilot Royal Lockhart. Not your outline, or your energy but... you. Clearly. ...You have lavender eyes."
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"Lavender eyes? You noticed my eyes," Banning muttered with a snort. He was amused by that, but he was more impressed by how much focus Windsor had managed to get in a single shot. Granted, he only did it briefly and his head was being split open by a headache currently.
"You did good, Annsley. That was thoroughly beyond my expectations." He didn't have any, but he wasn't going to tell his Candidate that. "All right, we'll try it again. But with something smaller. An object. Tell me whenever you're ready, okay. I'm going to set a table up on the end of the room. It'll be farther this time."
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He finished his water and looked up at Banning, only 'seeing' his outline once again. He thought it was funny that he noticed it... "I barely remember seeing anything that clearly. Of course I noticed your eyes." He said quietly as he tried to stand again. He still felt dizzy but tried to steady himself and push through the pain.
"Thank you sir." He said when Banning praised him. He wasn't used to that either. It was a short lived feeling though when Banning mentioned mapping an object... and further away. "Pilot Royal Lockhart... I don't usually see smaller objects with my mapping at all. Usually furniture is ok but anything smaller than that is.. hit or miss."
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"Then it'll be hit or miss, Annsley," he commented, pulling a table across from the side wall, setting it down easily. There weren't many small things in these training rooms. But he just needed something simple, something small enough to be compact, but uncomplicated to make it doable. He took another cup, a simple white mug that had been left unattended and set it at the center of the black table.
"Okay Annsley. The object is approximately double the distance from you," Banning said aloud. "Reach out and map it's position, then however slow you can, hone in on the object at it's center. Take your time. Don't push too hard until you're ready. And focus like I told you earlier."
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Windsor nodded and closed his eyes again. Immediately he was seeing the walls again and Pilot Lockhart. It was much harder to try and shift his focus away from Banning now since he was giving off much more energy than the walls. Object, object. He was trying very hard though. It was harder. Much harder. Why was it much harder? He had never seen clearly before and he managed to do it. And he sometimes saw objects but he couldn't do that? This was pathetic.
He stood there, trying to force back his migraine and pain, trying to focus... how long was Pilot Lockhart going to give him before he hit him? How long before he got pissed. No. Don't think that. If he does he does. But Windsor was going to stand there and focus till that time came.
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"Well, now what do you think?" Banning projected to Hyperion. "Of my Candidate, I mean."
"I think you are wasting your time," Hyperion echoed in his head, voice deep and gravelly. The very sound had shook Banning to his core when he first met Hyperion, seeing it now had been a test. "If Annsley had any potential, his previous mentor would still be with him, would he not? They should do away with fodder like him. His sight will go. Then he is back to square one. And thus a waste of time. Which you mortals have so little of.".
Each word was muttered slowly and with irritated emphasis. Banning somehow could swallow each word though. Not right away. "And where would you be if you'd have given up on me, Hyperion?"
Hyperion laughed haughtily. "With another Pilot not currently making a fool of himself. But I will let you have your little hobbies, Banning. We will fly again soon."
Banning sealed off any further conversation, feeling now instead into Annsley's mind. " You're experiencing a great deal of pain. Use it. This is your own body trying to back you into a corner. Use that pain to make yourself angry Annsley. Use it and map the object, reach out further. In a battle, there will be no opportunities for second guesses. You do it, or you die."
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Windsor really hadn't been making any progress seeing the object and was a little surprised when he heard the Pilot in his head. He shouldn't have been, but it was always a bit startling when someone entered your mind uninvited. "Yes sir." Was all he said in return but... Angry? At what? At who?
At pathetic stage 3 candidates who had to gang up on him to feel superior? At his genetics for both causing his degenerative eyesight and making him a psychic? At his parents for having children and not caring for them? At the things he had to do to survive and provide for his siblings? At every adult that had failed him or taken advantage of him? Angry that he was being set up to fail? Anger had been long locked behind a wall within Windsor, along with all his emotions. Feeling anything was a dangerous downward spiral that led to destruction and he held on to that notion for so long. How was he supposed to just tap into that now without it all crashing down?
He took a deep breath, not realizing he had been holding it, but realizing he hadn't been focusing. In battle there will be no time for second guesses. I don't want to die.. He thought.
He concentrated on seeing the object. Anger... why did he have to hurt? Why did he have to have a wall? What had he done to deserve it? What had he done to deserve the catch 22 he had been dealt? The questions were chipping away at his wall as he channeled the energy and his thoughts on mapping the object... maybe 30 ft in front of him? He could see the table fairly well defined now. What was there on top of it?
Windsor had no idea if the Pilot was still in his head, nor did he realize how loud his thought process had been.
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He was listening to his thoughts, and even as Banning focused on what was going on in his mind, he did not interfere further as Annsley pushed outward.
He could only know what he would tell him. And tearing his mind apart wasn't any way to give the man the strength he needed.
Banning said nothing and stood back, watching Annsley still, remaining silent and out of the way. He could only hope he was strong enough to reach out to the final few inches.
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Windsor gritted his teeth. His eyes hurt. His head hurt. His face hurt. For what? So he could stand here and train to be something he would never be because they would not fix him? He WANTED to be able to see. And not for them. Not to pass and graduate. He wanted to see his little brothers and sister. He wanted to see their smiling faces. He wanted to make sure they were ok. That they were cared for and safe and never had to worry about going hungry or getting hurt. If he became a Pilot the government would fix his eyes... but more importantly if he became a Pilot he could provide for his siblings. More than anything he was sick and tired of people writing him off! He had never once given up and he wasn't going to quit now so everyone who thought the could just walk over him- everyone who thought he would be TRIM'd out of this stage...
He saw it. A mug. White. Standard 10-12 ounce capacity; he saw it. He was focusing all he had on it- and it shattered.
He opened his eyes and stared down at the blurry ground, panting and shaking. His hands were trembling, when had he started digging his nails into his palms again? They were bleeding.
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The moment the cup shattered made Banning jump. He jerked his whole body and stared at Windsor, watching the kid pant and his hands were bleeding. "Shit," was all he muttered as he ran toward him and crouched again.
"Annsley, talk to me. What's happening, pal? How are you feeling?" Banning said. He maneuvered around him to pull a chair out and scooted it underneath him for the Candidate to fall into.. "You did it. And I want to know how."
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Windsor wanted to lash out at Banning as the Pilot approached him- and he wasn't even sure why. His face felt wet. Was he bleeding there too? No. They were tears. Great. He was crying like some pathetic weak little child. He was well aware of the chair under him now but he didn't want to sit. He simultaneously felt the need to pace and like he was going to pass out and as a result he stood where he was, balling his hands into fists again and letting his nails dig deeper.
Pilot Lockhart was talking to him still, but he didn't want to open his mouth. He felt like he was going to scream if he did. Windsor grit his teeth and closed his eyes. He 'looked' in the direction of the table and the cup. He could see every shard of it now. It was imbued in a dark red, smoldering energy now. Was that him? Was that energy his?
He sat down finally, still trembling and forcing himself to breathe. "I focused on the mug..." Was all he could get out. His throat felt tight.
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Banning just let the Candidate cool off. Pushing him further would break the poor bastard that he'd have to drag his ass back to the infirmary for something worse than a broken nose. So instead he just sat next to Windsor and carefully cleaned up the mess with his powers, tossing the broken mug into a garbage receptacle and shoving the table aside.
Banning was quiet, and drank a cup of water as he watched the far wall of the training room, feeling Hyperion's laughter from the other side.
"What do you do when people laugh at you?" he asked gently after several long minutes had passed.
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He sat there, just trying to breath and relax and calm down again, trying to plug up the wall and scared of the energy he was giving off. He 'watched' as his mentor psychically cleaned up his mess. He broke something he was only trying to see.
Windsor sat there with his eyes closed, lost in a haze of spiraling and circling thoughts until Banning spoke again. His throat felt tight. "...I ignore them. I go about what I was doing... there is no point in engaging them for it. It doesn't change anything." He said simply but what would have seemed so matter of fact to him a few minutes ago suddenly had him riddled with doubts. Did he really ever ignore it? Or did he just not react?
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"Fair enough," Banning murmured as he sipped his water until the last droplet splattered across the landscape of his tongue.
"You ignore them. But how are you feeling inside? Just empty?" Banning glanced up at his Candidate. Windsor seemed like a smart kid. So he couldn't fathom why he put up with such nonsense from other people. Even for someone used to taking it as he did, there had to be a limit break. But the point was learning how to control it.
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"I suppose I just ignore them too. They get in the way and there are more important things to be concerned with. Feelings just lead to self pity right?" He asked as he shakily got to his feet again. It felt like everything was spinning but he wanted to get himself some water and just sitting there made him feel pathetic.
He stood by the cooler, trying not to be obvious about steadying himself on it. As the anger continued to ebb the sadness was creeping in. It was like waves of the two hitting against his mind. He missed his younger siblings and he was worried about them. He had to keep working hard for them. But what if he couldn't do it?
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"Don't think that," Banning muttered, standing now and looking at Windsor rather sternly. There wasn't any anger in his stance, but talking to him like this made him want to slap the Candidate.
"I mean it, Annsley. Self-doubt is going to be what makes you fail before your eyesight does. You have to start changing how you feel, how you react to your feelings however. Understand, Candidate?"
-
He turned back to face the Pilot even though he didn't need to to 'see' him. He didn't understand what Banning meant, and he was hurting and finding it hard to concentrate. He was just trying to shove his feelings back behind the wall. Wasn't not feeling anything better? Wasn't that easier?
Part of him wanted to lie and just 'yes, sir' Banning because it would be easy and unquestioning. But he didn't want to lie to his mentor, even if being honest was insubordinate. "I don't sir. I don't understand. I usually don't doubt myself. I trust that this is the right way. That not letting others affect me is easiest and best. I don't stoop to their level. I just ignore... everything that isn't important."
-
"You're not wrong, Annsley," Banning leveled with him. "But that doesn't make it right either. Consider this. For all the time you've been a Candidate, and people have gotten on you, teased you, beat you and berated you, how far have you gotten? Already the odds are against you, and if you don't fight back against them, they'll keep stacking until they bury you."
Banning took a seat again. "I'll ask you this one thing: What is it that you want to get out of this, Annsley? Honestly."
-
How far had he gotten? Well he was stage two but he was also very young so, how far was he supposed to be? He looked at Banning and sat down too, hoping that was ok with his mentor because he really needed too. His head was spinning and the conversation was a bit too intense for him at the moment but he had to focus.
What did he want? It was simple.
"I want to become a Pilot of course."
-
Banning made a soft grunting noise. It was one of thought, and while he didn't want to invade Annsley's mind, he figured he wasn't going to get anywhere with this sort of questioning. The boy was exhausted and needed his rest or he was going to pass out. Part of Banning was curious about just how much the lad could take.
And he was getting a little irritated by how little he was getting.
"Why?" Banning said, almost a bit harshly. "What's the point of it all? Why does it matter to you to graduate this hellish experience and become a Pilot?"
-
Windsor could 'see' the spikes in Banning's mood. He was frustrated it seemed. It was understandable. Windsor was aware he often had that affect on others even though he did not intend to. He cracked one eye open to see the blur that was his mentor. He wanted to focus on him again but his head was pounding. How long had it been since he had seen someone's features so clearly? He was still amazed he had done that... but he would be lying if he said the issue with the cup had not made him nervous.
That harshness was obviously out of Banning's frustration. The Pilot Royal seemed quite reasonable, a bit prone to irritability but not irrational.
Why did he want to graduate? The question was knocking on that wall inside him. Of course there was the obvious answer... if he failed he would be trim'd. No one in their right mind would wish for that. Then of course there was the loyalty to Aedolis, wanting to be useful, not wanting to give up... But he was sure Banning would not accept these answers, as true as they were. They were shallow and simply the surface of his motivations. "Pilots have homes in the upper levels. They have credits."
((I put the last paragraph in italics because he is thinking loudly without realizing it. So it would be right on the surface and easy for Banning to hear without even meaning to. Hope that's ok.))
-
Those thoughts just on the surface. Easy to read and only seemed to make Banning all that much more frustrated. He sealed it inside himself however and instead tilted his head, reaching up to nudge Windsor's side with his closed fist.
It wasn't a punch perse, like a hard nudge to make him wake up from his reverie. "And what will they do with those credits, Annsley? More to the point. What will you do? How will you make a difference? Because being a Pilot means more than serving yourself. We have enough assholes that do that on a daily basis. One you're a Pilot, you're connected to something greater. Beyond that, with what power you do have, how will you use it?"
-
That knock brought him back out of his muddled thoughts and had his mental shields go up immediately. But with it was a sense of annoyance. It seemed almost foreign, especially to him, but it was there and it was radiating in his gut. Serving yourself.
With everything he had done, with all the things he had to go through, all the shit he took- still took. For himself? No. Never. "I don't know sir. I don't know what I will do with what power I have but I will do what is asked of me. I will do whatever is necessary. As always." His own voice sounded wrong in his ears.
That could not have been his voice... it was angry. The words were practically spat out. And he felt hot. Inside and out. Like he was burning. Had he really spoken to his mentor in such a way?
-
Banning straightened when those words echoed back to him. He didn't have to ask again for his Candidate to repeat himself. He knew damn well what he said and how he said it. Even the gall it took to say it. Banning rolled his shoulders backwards and frowned.
"I just have one more question, Annsley," he said levelly. "One before before I dismiss you for the day. What's the one thing in the world - no in the galaxy - that's important to you? No pretense. No country. No Dragons, no military to get in the way of that. I don't want you to tell me what I want to hear. Just an honest to gods answer."
-
Windsor was expecting to be hit. He wouldn't have blamed the Pilot Royal either. He deserved to be reprimanded for his attitude and insubordination. When he wasn't, he found himself shocked and grateful. He didn't need another blow to the head today. Though at least this time he was truly asking for it.
He stood there mouth slightly agape for a moment before processing the question. "...My family sir. I am sorry for how I just answered you... that was beyond disrespectful and any punishment I receive for it is well deserved."
-
Banning didn't know why Annsley seemed so...mushy. It was sickening in a way, and frankly Banning hated that he felt sorry for the kid. But he couldn't help it. He was just such a sorry piece of work. But he still kept his annoyance in check and simply shook himself.
"You're dismissed for the day Annsley. Go and...I dunno, do whatever it was you were doing before. That'll be all. We can um, resume some exercises tomorrow I guess," Banning sighed and stood up. He made no comment on what Annsley added to that, and simply shook his head of it.
He was the first to leave the training room and put the chair back in the corner of the room, closing the door gently behind him. It was a damn good reason. So why the boy felt the need to apologize he didn't understand? He supposed it simply went deep down with everything else that Windsor took from everyone else. Pilot Lockhart so no reason to punish the boy for doing exactly what he asked. But he also knew the Candidate needed some time to himself.
-
Windsor was in a bit of shock. They way he had spoken to his mentor; a Pilot Royal, he knew Pilots that would crack skulls for half as much insubordination. "Yes sir." Was all he could muster before Pilot Royal Lockhart reset the chair and left.
Windsor didn't move for some time, half expecting someone to come back and yell at him at the very least. But no one did. He still had this flood of feelings crashing waves on the wall in his mind; in his heart. Now that it was cracked what was there to do? Push it all back, rebuild the wall? Or deal with it. Face it...
Right now his face and head hurt so bad he just wanted to sleep, though he wasn't sure he'd manage that. He head back to his dorm anyway. Tomorrow. His mentor said they'd continue tomorrow.
-
"Annsley. Report to the cafeteria at 0600. Grab a nutribar a d a thermos of coffee. And something for yourself. Then meet me out in the practice field. ASAP. -Pilot Royal Lockhart."
It was a simple enough message that Banning sent. In truth, after yesterday, he didn't feel much up to this whole mentoring gig. Then again, who did? Fuck it all.
He should have beat the crap out of Annsley for speaking to him the way he did. That's what his father would have done. But this wasn't a matter of rebellion against patriarchal rule. It was a matter of superior and subordinate. And maybe the reason he didn't turn kid into ash was because maybe there was some hope for him yet.
Banning was already waiting out on the field, in a set of worn training clothes of his own and he stood when he spotted Annsley. "You know, brat, I'm wondering. If you can't see very well, how do you go about navigating those halls? Just your gift in small doses?"
-
Wis face and nose were still sore the next day, but nothing he couldn't handle. The message from Banning woke him up and forced him to grab his stupid glasses, wincing as they sat on his sensitive nose, to try and stare at the screen of his com to no avail. Fuck. Screens were the hardest thing to see, especially upon just waking up. He pushed the button shortcut his technopath roommate had set for it to read the message out loud. He knew that his roommate was almost always annoyed by having to share a room with disabled TRIM fodder, but he still helped Windsor out here and there because in Sinjin's opinion they were all on the same team.
The technopath groaned and rolled over on his bunk when Banning's message was read out by the computerized voice. "You know you should put head phones in before you do that. Fuck man what if it was confidential?" The guy grumbled.
"You are right. Sorry." Windsor replied, yawning and stretching.
"What time is it anyway?" He asked before realizing it was easier for him to just check, and looked at his own com. "5:15. You better get moving. There's probably a line for the showers."
Shit. Early morning training sucked not because of the time but because a lot of mentors opted for it before their own duties, and that meant shower lines for the Stage 2 Candidates especially. Rumor was it wasn't as bad up on the Stage 3 floors and of course the Stage 4 Candidates had bathrooms in their dorms.
Windsor got up and navigated the room based on mainly memory while his eyes tried to adjust to his thick glasses. He grabbed his towel and fatigues shoving them into his shower bag. He was just heading for the door when Sinjin sat up. "Windsor. Glasses."
Right. Last time he brought them to the bathroom someone broke them and he had to get a replacement. He left them on his desk and closed his eyes as he headed out to navigate the busy halls with his mapping.
It was 5:58 when he spotted Banning out on the field, saluting him once he stood before the Pilot Royal. He put in his contacts after his shower but they still didn't help much. He handed over the coffee and nutribar. "Yes sir. My head hurts both when I use my eyes and when I use my ability so its just a matter of balancing the two. Hall ways are easier to 'map'. I can 'map' walls and people easily. Its details that are harder to make out." He explained as best he could.
"Sir I want to apologize again for my behavior yesterday." He was still a bit more emotionally shaken, his walls of stoicism still breached, but he was more composed now. More collected.
-
Training at the crack of dawn wasn't Banning's idea of a good time. But like everything that came with this mentoring gig, there was a learning curve for Windsor Annsley as much as there was for him. Hence the coffee and the energy bar. Why get his own breakfast when he had a perfectly good Candidate with legs to get it for him? There were lots of other Pilots, he was sure, that saw the Candidate pool as their own personal servants and whores to choose from. You couldn't refute a Pilots word after all.
For Banning, however, it was merely a matter of two targets, and a split shot to knock them down. They'd get to guns and other weapons later, he assumed. For now, Banning was still trying to decide if this venture was even worth it. Windsor Annsley seemed to have hard time grasping the concept of self-preservation.
Or perhaps his grasp of it was simply tweaked the wrong way.
By the time Annsley showed up, Banning was yawning and he coughed into his arm. The crusts forming in the corners of his eyes were scraped away and he took the thermos and energy bar in hand. The snatch was unintentional, but the tearing off that plastic wrapper was entirely on purpose. Banning shredded it with his canine and took a bite. He was hungry, but he wasn't that overzealous.
Oh...gods there he went again with that apology.
"Shut up, Annsley," he said simply. There was no anger in his tone, nothing more than vague annoyance as he carefully ate the nutribar and sipped the coffee. Ahh, there was nothing quite like the kick of ultra-processed, ultra-pastuerized, high sugar, low carb, synthesized peanut-butter choc crunch that tasted a lot like eating a brick scraping down his throat. It wasn't an ideal breakfast, but it would tide him over for now.
Banning washed it down with a swig of coffee.
"Stop apologizing. I don't want to hear it. What I do want to hear though is that you've eaten and you're ready to train? So, are you?" Banning didn't even look at him, tossed the empty wrapper in a disposal receptacle and downed the rest of that coffee. It's burning path scorched its way down his throat and left his ears ringing. Ah well, it was too late to yell at him for not adding enough creamer. Next time for sure.
-
"I had a breakfast bar on the walk here sir. I am ready to train." He was fairly certain that Banning wasn't actually pissed at him and he wasn't about to press anything further.
The last thing he wanted to do was alienate and anger his mentor. He wanted to train. He wanted to excel. He wanted to graduated.
He still felt badly about his outburst yesterday and his entire face was still sore, bruised and swollen. Still he was ready. He could still vividly remember the details of Banning's face and the color of his eyes. To be able to map in such detail, to map in color... that was incredible. He wanted to do that again. He needed to do that again.
-
Banning burped, just a quick one, and tried to carefully disguise it with his hand. Oh, it wasn't like Windsor could see him. Still, he was only so much of a brute. But for now, he wanted to see just how much Windsor could take.
"All right then, let's begin. I just want you to know, that while you might seem in pique physical condition for your age, being a Pilot will put all sorts of wear and tear on your body like a muthafucker. It's one thing to take a hit from some smarmy Stage 4 or 5 with nothing better to do. And another to face down a fuckton of swarming enemies that are looking to put you in your grave, much less your place," he murmured, burping again.
"Sorry."
Banning nudged Annsley in the direction of the field. All this open pace, and the track around it that had spots of red dabbled out in etched in corners, where other Candidates before him ran their drills, until blood was coming out of their noses, their eyeballs, their ears. That's just what he planned to put Annsley through today.
Banning removed his shirt, and tossed it onto the bench. He was in joggers and athletic shoes, weird soft squishy things on his feet that made him feel like he was walking on air.
"All right Annsley, On my count, we run. One, two, GO!" And shoved him off down the track. "Keep up with me, Annsley! Or I'm leaving your ass behind!"