Her mental, serene lake rippled with the plink, plink, plinking of dripping, intrusive thoughts: like listening to the surface before a storm. Sitting in the nearby park, not a single voice interrupting her focus on the world and its channels, there was no one to blame but herself for this lack of focus. Her lack of balance. Junillerenn let out a deep exhale as she began to stabilize her mind once more. Starting at her feet, she focused on relaxing each muscle, letting the need for sensation go. “Your grasp on the channels is too lax, Juni,” spoke a familiar, deep voice, “What is bothering you?” The silken hairs on her head bristled as though fingers were being raked through them once more like smooth combs. She would not allow her mind to wander. Next came her legs, which tingled against the insides of her trousers as though she had accidentally bumped her knee into the corner of her father’s work table… Again. “When will Dad be home?” The voice was small, trembling as the beginnings of tears made her throat feel tight and suffocating. She could not swallow them quick enough, so she tightened her lids like corrugated steel. Junillerenn’s lips pursed inwards as she took another deep, faltering breath. Her eyes stared deep into the black, inky void of her eyelids for long moments as she moved up. Next was her torso. In and out… In and out…Her chest rose and fell as the muscles in her stomach slackened into repose. It felt lighter and the sensation made her smile - a real smile. “Your back is slumping, Juni,” reminded the deep, masculine voice like a teacher to his pupil, “do not let your lip quiver like that.” Her lips twitched downwards as a flood of emotions filled her body. Keeling over, she pressed her eyes into her hands and streams of tears trickled through the slits between her fingers like salty waterfalls. Rain fell over her mental lake, rippling its surface and washing away its reflectiveness. Pitiful and sniveling she cried until her palms felt like puddles, well aware of the burning sensation raking her scalp: eyes. Judging, disappointed, yet apathetic as a statue. As she turned to face her father, Juni could see the room around her. Sitting on one of the small, kneeling mats her dad had knitted before he left on his journey to beyond Tohn Maar Zintheer, numerous, foreign plants caught her eyes: often only having names in Shalota and far beyond what many Ailor botanists would believe possible. Prismatic crystals lit the room with a deep blue glow like a being just under the surface of a pond, barely bright enough to differ between the insides of her lids and the outside world. “You’re showing too much of yourself, Juni,” reminded Dad, his voice slow and bitter like dripping black coffee off a stirring spoon, “return to your meditation practice now.” No emotion crept into his tone, inert as he took another deep breath and returned to his own spiritual reconnection. Juni’s half-formed thoughts wandered to the consequences of her childly defiance. Not wishing another week without a word from him, Juni attempted to sit back up and dry her tears. As she stared across at her tall, dark-blue haired Father, she noted how he had not moved an inch: as unreactive as an adult consoling a child who scraped their knee on the pavement. Her hands clasped over her knees as she attempted to relax and return to her senses, pushing those intrusive thoughts to the side forcefully like pruning a mental bonsai of imperfections. Yet, she could not resist a single peak more. Reawakening from her dazed state, Junillerenn looked about the park’s grounds: the soft trickle of a natural stream into the pond, how the wind passed through the haygrass like hands patting a head affectionately, even a bird was nesting in a tree nearby, singing to its young. Then, voices. As her mind took a second to readjust itself into Common she began to pack her belongings, miniscule as they were. She would need a job or she would starve, she reasoned, her stomach agreeing loudly with the sentiment. After all, she had run out of granola due to a certain Urlan named Orm ( @SorryNari ). In an hour or two she would return to that spot and try again at the meditation. This time, hopefully, without failure.
