Chapter Text
On an island floating in the sky sits a Warlock—or, rather, suspended “upside down” relative to the far-below ground levitates a Warlock—deep in mediation. Arc energies crackle around and through them as they sit, cross-legged, and ponder whatever it is they decided to ponder this day. Off in the distance, they can faintly make out the thunder and booms of Guardians at play further afield in the EAZ, something that might, on another day, interest the Warlock and their propensity for wanton, near indiscriminate destructive force.
Today, however, Qi is meditating, no matter how much their body might idly sing for combat, the Stormdancer has come to appreciate the more rumbling, contemplative aspects of the storm within as they have moved through their second life. Through each molecule of their being, Qi lets the storm flow, opening and closing bivalves and arteries with a precision envied by ascetics and martial artists alike—it took the Warlock hundreds of years and past-life knowledge to attain such minute control over their body, but they will gladly proclaim to everyone just how worth it this is.
In. Out.
“I’m worried.”
“I know.”
In. Out.
“They’ll need a bigger boat.”
“Got one in mind?”
In. Out.
“Gonna be hard getting it.”
“Why?”
In. Out.
“We’ll need manpower, more than we have. Not to mention clearing the place out…”
“You’re joking… right?”
In. Out.
“Mercury, you know it’s got all they’d need.”
“Yeah, but let’s not forget it’s permanently grounded. In ice.”
In. Out.
“Got a better idea?”
In. Out.
“No…”
In. Out.
“Let’s brainstorm when we get back, okay?”
“Solid plan.”
In…
The Warlock floating high in the sky holds their breath, feels the crackle and shiver and dance of the electricity across their skin; a fleeting neuron fires off the thought that this, this is the best feeling in the whole world. The storm directed inwards buoys the body and sharpens the mind—chaos herded with the gentle crook of will and discipline. Potential clashes with itself for the right of action, the right of life, and Qi revels in it, it is everything they are and can become. Their storm-brewing eyes snap open, their lip quivers up with finality.
Out…
The Warlock gets up.